Tanzania Part 3
Here's my third dispatch from Karagwe:
Here’s a recap of what I’ve been up to lately! I didn’t realize there had been so much time since my last update, so this one might be a bit longer. My apologies, again! I really do think this has become a digitized version of my travel log (I write it out first) but I want to make sure I don’t forget to tell you guys anything!
On the 16th, we started our tours of secondary schools. We visited three different schools, and we had three really different experiences.
First School: Tegemeo Secondary School - This one was quite interesting. This school is predominantly taught in English, so it was really striking when the new headmistress, installed two weeks prior, spoke primarily in Swahili. There was an exchange with my professor when she complained that she, for her nine years spent coming to Karagwe, spoke remarkably little Swahili to her. My teacher replied that while she spoke some Swahili, the reason many of the children she sponsored attended Tegemeo was because it was an English-medium school, which made her surprised the woman spoke so little English. That set the tone for the rest of the visit. She was a youngish woman, about thirty-five, but she was very stern. She obviously wasn’t a member of the Wanyambo tribe of Tanzania (the largest group here) and in fact, she was from Kilimanjaro. Her skin was about the shade of mine (maybe one lighter) and she had thin lips. I knew she was kind of a jerk when one of the first things she asked was to my classmate, saying, “Why are you so fat?” She then compared my friend to herself, a thirty-five year old woman, and complained about the American culture that could create such obesity.
She grudgingly gave us time with the students to talk about things. They didn’t have many questions so we awkwardly introduced ourselves and stood around for a few minutes while the teachers tried to facilitate conversation. The headmistress was the main translator, although the kids were supposed to be able to speak passable English. (in order to get into a good college, a student must have a strong command of English) They seemed really reserved and awkward, like they didn’t know what to make of us, which was quite understandable. We had the feeling that she would translate the words to mock us, because the students would laugh derisively every time she spoke, a smirk present on her face. One notable example was when one student explained that she wanted to be a dietician/nutritionist. The teacher admitted there was a joke made at our expense there, but we weren’t sure if it was because the girl who wants to be a dietician is really small and petite (comments have been made previously about her unladylike, “boyish” frame while in Tanzania) or because of the perceptions that Americans are incredibly overweight.
After the students finished talking, the headmistress had a few questions for us. The first one: “Is it true that all Americans are slaves?” WOW. What a start! The answer, was of course, no, although there were slaves. After that, she told us a student had a question (this student looked mortified), which was, “If you are all Americans, why are two of you Black?” We explained the whole slave thing again. Then my teacher had three of us stand together, the Teaching Assistant (who is white and very pale), Estrellita, who is Mexican, and me. She explained that Americans come in various shades and colors. All the while, I could hear “We are the World” playing in my head.
To be honest, I felt that we were being a bit disingenuous with our answers to the questions - the United States does have an oppressive history, and we aren’t all kumbaya about it. Another thing I found interesting was the shock that black people could be Americans - considering how high-profile Barack Obama is (I see his name and face all over Karagwe on all kinds of merchandise), you’d think they’d have an image of Americans that aren’t European.
The headmistress then argued that we couldn’t be Americans because we are not ethnically identifiable with each other. It was strange, because she didn’t resemble a single student in her classroom - I wouldn’t have pegged her as Tanzanian, at least one of the Tanzanians (Wanyambo) that live in the area. Dr. Winkler argued that 100 years ago Karagwe was part of Rwanda, and it became part of Tanzania by deed. Does that make them Rwandans? It got awkward at that point, well, even more awkward. The woman was visibly seething.
Then we had a conversation about how one would get American citizenship, and how you can be born there or also become naturalized, so it doesn’t really rely on ethnic identity. She also complained that several of the students Dr. Winkler sponsored were undersupplied, but she couldn’t supply names when asked. She was a jerk. I couldn’t wait to leave.
We ran into the other Pitt in Tanzania group, who are primarily doing Swahili immersion study. They’re annoying and obnoxious and make us, as Americans, look bad. At the same time, I can’t completely blame them: while they are learning Kiswahili (something they kind of taunted us about, since they have a more sophisticated command of the language than we do), that’s all they’re learning - in our study abroad, we’re also getting an overview of the culture. On that note, I can’t fully blame them for not realizing when they’re being culturally inappropriate, but they’re still annoying. They’re not particularly good looking either.
Second School: Rumanyika Secondary School
We went here the next day. This was a co-ed school. Before we visited, we spent time at the local Catholic parish, where they gave us Chai tea. I am really concerned that the chai tea at home won’t match up to the tea in Tanzania, because it’s apparently really hard to reproduce at home. We met Mr. Teulas Josiah, the father of my translator, Innocent. He’s really nice and knowledgeable. We also met the bishop of the area, and he’s really nice. I got his wife’s contact information so I might email her.
At Rumanyika, there was a considerably different environment. For one, they were much friendlier. We still got the “How are Black people Americans?” question. I was chosen to answer (obviously) and I explained the whole African Diaspora slave thing. We also were asked if whites were more destructive to Africa than helpful, but the headmaster redirected that question so we didn’t really hear it.
After that, the students taught us traditional African dance. One of them stepped on my skirt and kind of ripped it (I was able to get it mended but I think I still need a patch for it, oh well) but it was still fun. I got to dance a few times, so hopefully it was captured on video or in photos.
Afterwards, we got to eat with the head teachers from Rumanyika. We collectively took a trip to the bathroom. Not shocking: another hole in the floor. Shocking: It was porcelain! (it had a flusher and everything. Fancy.) I felt really bad because I was warning my classmate, Hilary, about the toilet (if you can call it that), and my other classmate, Rachel, only picked up on the “…it’s porcelain!” part. She was quite disappointed.
After that, we took a trip to Bweranyanga All-Girls Secondary School. It was AMAZING.
When my professor asked one of the teachers, who moonlights as an archeologist (!) what the main difference between all-girl and co-ed schools were, her response was, “Self confidence”. In her opinion, when girls in Tanzania are in a school together, they truly get the opportunity to flourish and shine. She couldn’t have been more right.
At Tegemeo, the girls were almost mute. At Rumanyika, they spoke, but meekly, not even close to the confidence or eloquence of their male peers. They only seemed engaged when dancing and playing with us, which, I’ll say again, was a ton of fun. Also, both of these schools had students that were so-so in English.
As soon as we showed up at Bweranyanga, the girls swamped us in perfect English, holding our hands, pulling us into their dorms to talk and asking fifteen questions a minute. What part of America are you from? Is it cold there? What are you studying? Why are you studying that? What do you want your future profession to be? Most popular question: Do you have a boyfriend?? One girl told me she had a brother I would be absolutely look adorable with.
One girl, Grace, was particularly friendly. We took a picture together and I got her mailing address so I would mail it to her. I also promised to mail her a picture of the snowstorm from last winter so she could see what it looked like.
They put on a show for us, singing and dancing. We danced with them. They were great singers. I wish I could have stayed longer - a week or more!
We then took a trip to the Rwandan-Tanzanian border, where the Kagera River is located. It looked like pride rock, from the Lion King. We tried to explain that to the people we were with, but they’ve never heard of that movie. (Side note: Apparently Hakuna Matata DOES mean “no worries/no problem” in Swahili. Disney wasn’t lying!) I took a ton of pictures, because it was absolutely beautiful, even though it was absolutely painful trying to get there. Let me reiterate - roads in Tanzania are only considered roads in the broadest sense of the word.
Sunday was a rest day, so I spent it working on stuff. I met the orphan baby that one of my classmates cares for, named Baraka. (Guess who he was named after?) [Not] Surprisingly enough, there are tons of babies running around named after our president: Barack, Baraka, Obama, Obami, etc. Plus, his name is on any type of merchandise you can imagine. (I saw Obama jeans the other day!)
In other news, I found out I had bed bugs! Yes! I had been getting these strange bites even though I dutifully used bug repellent and mosquito nets. Even weirder, they were in places normally covered in my clothing like my back. I showed them to the nursing professor and she agreed that they were most likely bed bugs. Disgusting. They apparently live in bed frames, so I’m in a new room now. Again: yuck!
Speaking of creatures, there’s a dog that has been roaming around the property. He’s nice, although he looks like a Dingo. We feed him rolls. We’re divided on whether or not to call him Dingo or Constantine.
Today, (it is 8:30am Tanzania time as I write this, though it might be later when I actually get to send it) I plan to set up more interviews and do more research. Tomorrow I might go out to dinner, and the day after that we’re going to Bukoba, the closest semi-large city. I can’t wait! Shopping!
A side note about Tanzania time: Apparently here, one corresponds with the beginning of the day, which for them is 6:00am. It’s taken some getting used to because sometimes people will forget we’re Americans (“mzungu” for the white people. It’s been claimed that that word generally means outsider and thus applies to the entire group, but I looked it up and according to Wikipedia, it specifically refers to people of European descent) and give us times in the Tanzanian system. This, of course, creates confusion.
Oh, and I want to cut my hair. If all of the women and girls in Tanzania can rock short hair - shorter than I want to go! - then why can’t I?
Here’s a recap of what I’ve been up to lately! I didn’t realize there had been so much time since my last update, so this one might be a bit longer. My apologies, again! I really do think this has become a digitized version of my travel log (I write it out first) but I want to make sure I don’t forget to tell you guys anything!
On the 16th, we started our tours of secondary schools. We visited three different schools, and we had three really different experiences.
First School: Tegemeo Secondary School - This one was quite interesting. This school is predominantly taught in English, so it was really striking when the new headmistress, installed two weeks prior, spoke primarily in Swahili. There was an exchange with my professor when she complained that she, for her nine years spent coming to Karagwe, spoke remarkably little Swahili to her. My teacher replied that while she spoke some Swahili, the reason many of the children she sponsored attended Tegemeo was because it was an English-medium school, which made her surprised the woman spoke so little English. That set the tone for the rest of the visit. She was a youngish woman, about thirty-five, but she was very stern. She obviously wasn’t a member of the Wanyambo tribe of Tanzania (the largest group here) and in fact, she was from Kilimanjaro. Her skin was about the shade of mine (maybe one lighter) and she had thin lips. I knew she was kind of a jerk when one of the first things she asked was to my classmate, saying, “Why are you so fat?” She then compared my friend to herself, a thirty-five year old woman, and complained about the American culture that could create such obesity.
She grudgingly gave us time with the students to talk about things. They didn’t have many questions so we awkwardly introduced ourselves and stood around for a few minutes while the teachers tried to facilitate conversation. The headmistress was the main translator, although the kids were supposed to be able to speak passable English. (in order to get into a good college, a student must have a strong command of English) They seemed really reserved and awkward, like they didn’t know what to make of us, which was quite understandable. We had the feeling that she would translate the words to mock us, because the students would laugh derisively every time she spoke, a smirk present on her face. One notable example was when one student explained that she wanted to be a dietician/nutritionist. The teacher admitted there was a joke made at our expense there, but we weren’t sure if it was because the girl who wants to be a dietician is really small and petite (comments have been made previously about her unladylike, “boyish” frame while in Tanzania) or because of the perceptions that Americans are incredibly overweight.
After the students finished talking, the headmistress had a few questions for us. The first one: “Is it true that all Americans are slaves?” WOW. What a start! The answer, was of course, no, although there were slaves. After that, she told us a student had a question (this student looked mortified), which was, “If you are all Americans, why are two of you Black?” We explained the whole slave thing again. Then my teacher had three of us stand together, the Teaching Assistant (who is white and very pale), Estrellita, who is Mexican, and me. She explained that Americans come in various shades and colors. All the while, I could hear “We are the World” playing in my head.
To be honest, I felt that we were being a bit disingenuous with our answers to the questions - the United States does have an oppressive history, and we aren’t all kumbaya about it. Another thing I found interesting was the shock that black people could be Americans - considering how high-profile Barack Obama is (I see his name and face all over Karagwe on all kinds of merchandise), you’d think they’d have an image of Americans that aren’t European.
The headmistress then argued that we couldn’t be Americans because we are not ethnically identifiable with each other. It was strange, because she didn’t resemble a single student in her classroom - I wouldn’t have pegged her as Tanzanian, at least one of the Tanzanians (Wanyambo) that live in the area. Dr. Winkler argued that 100 years ago Karagwe was part of Rwanda, and it became part of Tanzania by deed. Does that make them Rwandans? It got awkward at that point, well, even more awkward. The woman was visibly seething.
Then we had a conversation about how one would get American citizenship, and how you can be born there or also become naturalized, so it doesn’t really rely on ethnic identity. She also complained that several of the students Dr. Winkler sponsored were undersupplied, but she couldn’t supply names when asked. She was a jerk. I couldn’t wait to leave.
We ran into the other Pitt in Tanzania group, who are primarily doing Swahili immersion study. They’re annoying and obnoxious and make us, as Americans, look bad. At the same time, I can’t completely blame them: while they are learning Kiswahili (something they kind of taunted us about, since they have a more sophisticated command of the language than we do), that’s all they’re learning - in our study abroad, we’re also getting an overview of the culture. On that note, I can’t fully blame them for not realizing when they’re being culturally inappropriate, but they’re still annoying. They’re not particularly good looking either.
Second School: Rumanyika Secondary School
We went here the next day. This was a co-ed school. Before we visited, we spent time at the local Catholic parish, where they gave us Chai tea. I am really concerned that the chai tea at home won’t match up to the tea in Tanzania, because it’s apparently really hard to reproduce at home. We met Mr. Teulas Josiah, the father of my translator, Innocent. He’s really nice and knowledgeable. We also met the bishop of the area, and he’s really nice. I got his wife’s contact information so I might email her.
At Rumanyika, there was a considerably different environment. For one, they were much friendlier. We still got the “How are Black people Americans?” question. I was chosen to answer (obviously) and I explained the whole African Diaspora slave thing. We also were asked if whites were more destructive to Africa than helpful, but the headmaster redirected that question so we didn’t really hear it.
After that, the students taught us traditional African dance. One of them stepped on my skirt and kind of ripped it (I was able to get it mended but I think I still need a patch for it, oh well) but it was still fun. I got to dance a few times, so hopefully it was captured on video or in photos.
Afterwards, we got to eat with the head teachers from Rumanyika. We collectively took a trip to the bathroom. Not shocking: another hole in the floor. Shocking: It was porcelain! (it had a flusher and everything. Fancy.) I felt really bad because I was warning my classmate, Hilary, about the toilet (if you can call it that), and my other classmate, Rachel, only picked up on the “…it’s porcelain!” part. She was quite disappointed.
After that, we took a trip to Bweranyanga All-Girls Secondary School. It was AMAZING.
When my professor asked one of the teachers, who moonlights as an archeologist (!) what the main difference between all-girl and co-ed schools were, her response was, “Self confidence”. In her opinion, when girls in Tanzania are in a school together, they truly get the opportunity to flourish and shine. She couldn’t have been more right.
At Tegemeo, the girls were almost mute. At Rumanyika, they spoke, but meekly, not even close to the confidence or eloquence of their male peers. They only seemed engaged when dancing and playing with us, which, I’ll say again, was a ton of fun. Also, both of these schools had students that were so-so in English.
As soon as we showed up at Bweranyanga, the girls swamped us in perfect English, holding our hands, pulling us into their dorms to talk and asking fifteen questions a minute. What part of America are you from? Is it cold there? What are you studying? Why are you studying that? What do you want your future profession to be? Most popular question: Do you have a boyfriend?? One girl told me she had a brother I would be absolutely look adorable with.
One girl, Grace, was particularly friendly. We took a picture together and I got her mailing address so I would mail it to her. I also promised to mail her a picture of the snowstorm from last winter so she could see what it looked like.
They put on a show for us, singing and dancing. We danced with them. They were great singers. I wish I could have stayed longer - a week or more!
We then took a trip to the Rwandan-Tanzanian border, where the Kagera River is located. It looked like pride rock, from the Lion King. We tried to explain that to the people we were with, but they’ve never heard of that movie. (Side note: Apparently Hakuna Matata DOES mean “no worries/no problem” in Swahili. Disney wasn’t lying!) I took a ton of pictures, because it was absolutely beautiful, even though it was absolutely painful trying to get there. Let me reiterate - roads in Tanzania are only considered roads in the broadest sense of the word.
Sunday was a rest day, so I spent it working on stuff. I met the orphan baby that one of my classmates cares for, named Baraka. (Guess who he was named after?) [Not] Surprisingly enough, there are tons of babies running around named after our president: Barack, Baraka, Obama, Obami, etc. Plus, his name is on any type of merchandise you can imagine. (I saw Obama jeans the other day!)
In other news, I found out I had bed bugs! Yes! I had been getting these strange bites even though I dutifully used bug repellent and mosquito nets. Even weirder, they were in places normally covered in my clothing like my back. I showed them to the nursing professor and she agreed that they were most likely bed bugs. Disgusting. They apparently live in bed frames, so I’m in a new room now. Again: yuck!
Speaking of creatures, there’s a dog that has been roaming around the property. He’s nice, although he looks like a Dingo. We feed him rolls. We’re divided on whether or not to call him Dingo or Constantine.
Today, (it is 8:30am Tanzania time as I write this, though it might be later when I actually get to send it) I plan to set up more interviews and do more research. Tomorrow I might go out to dinner, and the day after that we’re going to Bukoba, the closest semi-large city. I can’t wait! Shopping!
A side note about Tanzania time: Apparently here, one corresponds with the beginning of the day, which for them is 6:00am. It’s taken some getting used to because sometimes people will forget we’re Americans (“mzungu” for the white people. It’s been claimed that that word generally means outsider and thus applies to the entire group, but I looked it up and according to Wikipedia, it specifically refers to people of European descent) and give us times in the Tanzanian system. This, of course, creates confusion.
Oh, and I want to cut my hair. If all of the women and girls in Tanzania can rock short hair - shorter than I want to go! - then why can’t I?