Sunday, November 13

Prepare for a long post. Classes are in full swing, albeit at times interrupted. This is due to the student riots that are happening with increasing frequency because of a failure on the loan board's part to properly record names, so that loans have not been distributed and people don't have money. I got to spend some time at an orphanage this weekend, which was absolutely wonderful, and starting this week I'm going to be helping to teach English to the salespeople at the carver's market a few nights a week-- It's a big tourist spot, so this will help them to be able to interact better to sell their goods. Language is an interesting thing here, as I will explain in a minute. Oh, and to those who asked if I washed my friend's clothes for him: No, I did not, although I wouldn't actually mind-- I find washing clothes almost therapeutic in a way. But I explained to him that if I washed them, they would not get nearly as clean as he wanted. They're really rough on their clothes here with the hand washing and it completely wears them out; I'm not going to do my washing like that.

Last week I got lost for the first time. I figured after being here a month, I was capable of venturing to the market on my own. And I was right, getting there was not a problem. Snagged a couple of headscarves for dirt cheap (My new preferred mode of fashion, it's just easiest when it is always hot and humid, and when you can't wash your hair because there's no water) So I was pretty proud of my excursion. The problem came when I wanted to leave and realized I had no idea where to catch the return daladala. I wandered quite a ways, and it was pretty apparent I was lost, but partly because of pride I was not willing to admit that. Also, it was at this moment I realized how much Swahili I don't actually know. In Nairobi this would not have been a problem. But here English is not so widespread. Most of the time, if you go off campus, English communication will not get you very far. This can be interesting when you're at a store and can't find something. For instance, my roommate and I were looking for a lighter or matches, which we had no idea how to say in Swahili. We instead had to ask for "something to make fire" which at first got interpreted as soda-- clearly something got lost in translation-- but eventually got sorted out and we got what we wanted. Even on campus, communication with vendors can be challenging, although I sometimes suspect this is their way of trying to cheat me out of money and that they know more English than they let on. I find they don't like to give me change-- just the other day, I got in an argument with a fruit vendor because I paid six hundred for something that cost five hundred, and he wouldn't give me my money back. Keep in mind the money in dispute was worth about 6 cents, and I really couldn't have cared less about it. It was more the principle-- they do this all the time and assume that because I'm foreign, I won't notice that they overcharged me. So an argument ensued which basically consisted of me saying in Swahili "I gave you 600" and him replying "you only gave me five," and both of us repeating those same phrases in increasingly agitated voices until he gave me my money.

It's just frustrating not being able to communicate to the extent I want, but I also don't feel like I have a right to get upset about it because I'm the visitor to their country and I should be the one speaking their language. And I am trying, it's just an extremely slow work in progress.

The real language topic I take issue with, though, is the use of English as the language of instruction at the university. I'm not complaining because it allowed me to come here, but I definitely disagree with the policy. I understand the desire for people to learn English, but I think they would obtain a much better education if classes were taught in Kiswahili and English instruction was simply included as a required course. To be blunt, the majority of people do not speak English at near the level appropriate for a university-level education. Because of this, subject matter is soooo simplified, and even then many students do not understand the material. Lectures are filled with students leaning over each other to copy notes that they didn't understand (me included, on account of the accent), and I'm getting more of an education here in subject matters outside of my own field of study simply because I spend so much time trying to explain concepts from lectures and readings to friends who come to me because they didn't quite grasp the English. I spent a good hour trying to explain to a linguistics/Kiswahili student the differences between language acquisition and language learning, and even then I had to insert some broken Kiswahili here and there to get my point across-- He's getting a degree in his own language, and he has to do it using a different language. That just seems unfortunate to me. It doesn't seem fair that a person be denied an education because he is not proficient enough in a language that is not even his own. There are other factors, though, such as the lack of teaching/ research material available in Kiswahili, so that if it were to be the language of instruction, people would have to find a way to have the materials translated. And I know there are other forces at play that I don't see as an outsider, but I just feel like there has to be a better way than the current system.

In case anyone is wondering, I did get un-lost. Hopped on a daladala I thought was going the direction I wanted, turns out it took me straight back to where I came from, wandered around a bit more so that it appeared it was my intention to arrive at the market and nobody would be able tell I made such a silly mistake, and came back to get on going the proper direction. Now I know.

Love

Sunday, October 30

It's been a crazy week. I'll be honest, sometimes I question my sanity for coming here. Don't get me wrong, I'm loving it-- I'm just not exactly sure WHY I'm loving it. Let's start with the fact that it's ninety-some degrees all the time and I can't wear shorts. Running in pants with 500% humidity is not fun. I've just gotten used to being constantly soaked with sweat, and I stopped wearing deodorant about three weeks ago-- Everyone else stinks, I might as well too. I have been bathing out of a bucket for the past month because even though we usually have running water, it's just much easier and more efficient to fill a bucket with water. Honestly, the thought of a hot shower is so completely foreign at this point that it doesn't even sound appealing (though that could be due to the constant heat). The electricity is subject to go out at any time without warning, and when it does, there is no way of knowing whether it will be out for twenty minutes or twenty-four hours. This can be interesting for lectures, especially night classes-- it gets dark around 6 here, which conveniently enough seems to be the time the power usually likes to go out. Best to hope for a good rainy season, because I'm told much of the power is hydroelectric, and if the rainy season isn't good, we can probably expect much more frequent and more lengthy power outages. Even without the power outages, lectures are an exercise in concentration. If a lecture hall is lucky enough to have a sound system, it usually doesn't work, which means you are constantly straining to hear and at the same time decipher the professor's accent. The halls are open to the outside so you can hear everything going on around and there are usually birds swooping down over your heads. This was especially a problem during the anniversary celebrations, because there was a tendency for marching bands to sporadically make appearances around campus, thus disrupting entire lecture periods. On top of that, the "African book famine" is a legit thing; getting the proper readings for class is nearly impossible and usually entails photocopying an entire book from either a professor or the library. If you're lucky enough to have a professor make readings available online, you're at the mercy of A) the electricity working and B) the internet working--- both of which have a tendency to fail.
But onto my crazy week-- Here's what I have learned: If there is an event with a promise of anything free, avoid it at all costs. Last Friday-- free transportation to a university-sponsored bash at a beach= people mobbing the buses to get on, jumping through windows, trying to jump on before the bus came to a stop. This should have been my indication to be weary of another university event Monday night- This one not only promised free transportation, but free food and drink as well as free entertainment. So we once again experienced the craziness of actually getting ON the bus, but then the bus tried to charge people for the ride when it was promised to be free, so I thought there was about to be a lynching.... They wouldn't open the doors to let people off because no one would pay, so people just started jumping out the windows. On top of that, the free food and drink were late, causing a stampede of people mobbing the tables once the food actually arrived---- Flying fanta bottles and broken glass, people sprinting away with cases of water and soda under their arms, bags of stolen chicken being consumed under secluded bushes as we observed the rioting from a distance-- It was quite the experience. (Let me clarify that the chicken was not actually stolen considering it was supposed to be free to begin with, it just took a certain amount of stampeding skill/ability to dodge flying objects that I did not want to discover if I possessed, so my group hid under the bushes as one of the Tanzanians made repeated trips into the war zone and came running back with goods that he shoved into our laps before running back into the chaos). It was truly something I wish I could have documented on film because there are no words to describe it.

I've also had some interesting bajaj experiences this week. The preferred transport is the daladala, which are basically oversized passenger minivans that are dirt cheap and extremely crowded. The problem with these is that they have specific, limited routes between certain places, and you cannot usually get one late at night. So if you have to go somewhere not on a daladala route, or you are traveling past 11-ish, you have to either get a slightly more expensive bajaji (below) and try to negotiate a decent price, or take a taxi-- the most reliable form of transport, but also the most expensive.

If you sit on top of each other, you can actually get about six or seven people in a bajaji which helps split the cost. You never know what you're going to encounter on the trip though. One night a group of us was coming back from the beach and the bajaji broke down in the middle of nowhere (reason # 1 why it's always a good idea to travel in large groups, preferably including guys, and definitely including Tanzanians), and we had to help push it to a petrol station AND pay for the petrol. Then last night on our way out, the university gate guard stopped the bajaji and after about fifteen minutes of holding us there while we tried to figure out exactly what the problem was, he made the driver pay 3,000 Tsh (the equivalent of $1.75) to let us pass because the bajaji was "overcrowded"--- complete bogus, he just saw white people in the vehicle and wanted a little extra cash for himself. Never a dull moment.

Like I said though, I am loving it here and am learning a lot-- mostly in the way of patience, but learning nonetheless. Also, I paid to join the university gym this week (which basically consists of a couple machines and some free weights, but it does the job) and bought an exercise ball (which I have yet to find a way to inflate), a kettle so I can actually boil water to drink from the tap, and coffee-- so my life has improved 1,000 times over.

Oh, side note: one of the guys who doubted my ability to wash clothes is now requesting that I wash his clothes for him. Looks like guys here are no different from guys in the U.S. Can't even do their own laundry.

Love

Saturday, October 22

Hard to believe I've been here three weeks already... I made it through my first week of classes, though there are two that have still not begun. One because of the 50th anniversary celebrations that were going on all week, and the other because the Kiswahili department is still working out its timetable.

Classes are.... Interesting. It's great to finally be back in class; I'm just not entirely sure what's expected of me. Nothing. Is. Organized. Ever. TIA. Occasionally professors will switch to speaking in Swahili, especially when telling jokes or anecdotes-- which can be frustrating. The African lit prof, though, is great, because if he does that, he'll look up and say "oh sorry, madams from the U.S. or wherever... " and then explain what just happened. The good news is that profs usually speak very slowly and repeat themselves many times since although English is the "official" language of the university, it is not the first language of students-- So I have plenty of time to take notes on what they are saying. The bad news is that even after they have repeated themselves three times, I often am still uncertain of precisely which words are coming out of their mouths.

It's been a slow start to the semester because of the aforementioned anniversary celebrations (fifty years of TZ independence, fifty years of the university). Thursday was the climax event where the president of TZ and his delegation came to UDSM. All morning people were outside waiting for him in the ridiculously hot sun; All morning people were calling me, "Kelsey, hurry, the president is coming soon, you can't miss it,".... so it was slightly amusing to hear all the booing and songs about bad government when he finally arrived. Even later in the evening, everyone was asking, "Did you see the president?!" Despite his vast unpopularity, he still holds celebrity status and people will sit for hours just to see him. (See photograph below)

I have more to say, but I'll say it tomorrow because I'm off to bed.
Side note: Apparently the boys made it to state? Congrats to them, I soooo wish I could've been there to watch, but good luck to all
Love

Monday, October 17

First day of classes! Kindof. Went to my first one, decided there's no way I'm taking it; Second one was a success; third one may not exist and certainly doesn't this week; fourth one I never actually found, I just wandered around lost for an hour--- BUT I'm just going to focus on the fact that the second one was a success. Victory! Tomorrow should make things more clear. Class registration is extremely inefficient and confusing here, but the good thing is you don't actually have to be registered until the second week of classes, which means this week I can shop around and see which classes I actually want.

At this point I'm fairly settled in and life is mostly good. Some things I cannot get used to: 1. Walking on the left side of the path (Who does that?!)-- I am forever running into people. 2. Figuring out which way to look first when crossing a street. 3. Writing the date day/month instead of month/day-- Pretty sure my university registration says I'm born on April 5 instead of May 4. 4. Responding 'Asante' (thank you) when someone says 'pole' (sorry)-- Sometimes someone will just say 'pole' three or four times in a row before I realize the reason they are repeating themselves is not because they are overly sympathetic, but because they are waiting for me to thank them. 5. Appropriate gender roles-- I definitely knew before I came that gender relations and expectations of females are different than in the USA, but knowing that and acting it out are two completely different things. I am constantly having to remind myself that I have to act more like a girl, and that there are certain things that are not acceptable for me to do here. Though I suppose even by American standards I can be fairly uncouth-- let's face it Mom and Dad, you skimped on the proper well-bred lady skills and raised a complete savage.

The 'official' position of the university is that males and females are to have equal opportunities and rights in all things, but you will have a difficult time finding an individual who actually feels that way. On one hand, I realize that gender debates are pretty futile and I should probably avoid them, but on the other, (I am uncouth after all) I just really cannot resist sharing my point of view when guys bring up the topic of marriage and what they expect from their wives. Especially the ones that just come out and say they want to marry a mzungu (white person)-- I always first ask them to tell me their thoughts on the male/female power dynamics of a relationship, appropriate gender roles, etc., and then I proceed to explain exactly why they will have a hard time finding a mzungu girl who is willing to be controlled to the extent they deem necessary, and why they probably, in fact, do not want to marry a mzungu. To be fair, not every person has this patriarchal mindset, but it is the dominant thought process, and though I've never considered myself much of a feminist, I also can't stand being told that my role in life is determined by my gender. My attitude toward these discussions fluctuates between wry amusement and extreme irritation, but in the end there is nothing I can really do but respect the cultural norm.

Anyway, the power keeps flickering off today so I think that's it for now, until I actually have something interesting to say.

Love

One of my favorite people here, even though she doesn't speak English so our communications are usually very brief. Just a very sweet old woman
This is where I sleep. My roommate and I have actually been using our beds as yoga mats. They are that solid.
Mosquitoes- 1. Kelsey- 0.
Balcony of our room, with proof of my ability to do "the hand-washing"

Friday, October 8

Well, I've been here a week. Here's what they don't teach you in Swahili class: In addition to the two greetings and responses you learn, there are a million other greetings and responses, and all million may be used in a single encounter so that simply greeting someone may leave you feeling entirely lost and overwhelmed. That's how it was for me my first couple days. I am slowly improving, though-- I can semi-successfully execute a rapid-fire exchange of mambos, poas, mzimas, habaris, safis, etc. etc. so that yesterday I was even told that my Kiswahili was "very good" and and asked where I learned to speak it. Mind you, this was based on me being able to greet, tell my name, and answer where I am from, and I can assure you that my Kiswahili is not good at all, but I still considered it a great victory. I've also become fairly competent at getting food and drinks. As overwhelming as things have been, I really have to embrace the small accomplishments.

Anyway, first and foremost, I must share the most important detail of my experience so far: There are monkeys in my back yard. For real. They are as abundant as squirrels in Indiana. I caught a lot of grief one morning because upon finding a group of monkeys blocking my path, I backtracked around, uncertain of what they would do if I tried to pass. My Tanzanian friends were quite amused because I asked if monkeys were mean. Apparently they are not, and you can even feed them bananas.

There are more white people here than I expected, but that also may be because you can spot them from a mile away, so you notice every single one. I suppose even forty students out of nineteen thousand is not a percentage, and most are actually European, especially from Germany. Also, many of them decide to move off campus. Quite a lot stay at a motel nearby, I think because they are unhappy with the accommodations. Honestly the accommodations exceeded my expectations, though- There is a running-water shower, and toilets that flush (at least when there is running water). I've even almost gotten used to the ice cold showers, and at least it's hot enough here that you warm up pretty quickly when you get out.

It's amusing how frequently I've had a Tanzanian guy offer to help teach me "the hand-washing" (washing your clothes). I cannot seem to convince them that I'm already quite capable of doing it myself, instead they always mime the actions of an American guy from last year who apparently liked to bang his clothes against the pavement trying to clean them. No matter how many times they tell me the story, they find it just as hilarious as the first telling. I tried to explain that he was a guy, and that American guys don't even know how to use an automatic washer; in fact, they are really quite helpless-- but I think they are still skeptical of my abilities.

I've been uncertain of how to be able to run here. They seem to know we do it, because people will ask if I run, and then talk about how it's such good exercise.... But then no one does it. The other day, a couple of my native friends who knew my concern pointed out a couple white girls running, So yesterday I just decided to suck it up and do it. I got up early in the hopes that there would be less people to stare at me, and ideally, in a few weeks I will be oblivious to the stares.

So far I have been fluctuating between loving it here and just being incredibly homesick and wondering what the heck I was thinking coming. The past few days I have met a lot of the other international students and that has been quite comforting; Although, most will leave halfway through the year to be replaced by others. At international student orientation today, I finally met another American girl. She is taking some graduate courses while volunteering with the exact refugee organization that I was trying to get involved with, so this week I'm planning to go with her and see if they can take me in as well. Classes are supposed to start Monday but apparently they won't actually start for another couple weeks. None of the professors show up, and technically the timetables aren't even finalized so it's difficult to even register for classes yet. TIA. (This is Africa). Also, supposedly we will have wireless internet on campus starting this year, but it's extremely patchy, and that is assuming I am ever issued my student ID so I can register my laptop.

Peace, love, and other good things.

<3 Kelsey