Hello from Africa
Habari! Greetings from Tanzania!
There is so much to say, and unfortunately not much time to say it! I am sitting in an "internet cafe" of Tengeru village. I've got thirty minutes and the computer keeps crashing. I apologize if this letter seems scattered!
Today is my sixth day in Arusha. I flew in on a packed 747, landing in Kilimanjaro airport in the dark of the night, and there were no lights around for kilometers. We stayed the first night at a quaint place called L'Oasis lodge. The power wasn't working (as is often the case here), so we lit a candle, wrote in our journals, and went to bed early.
The next morning we drove to the home base, a large compound accessible by a dirt road and surrounded by huts. The compound is overly secure -- we are enclosed by 10' walls with an electric fence on top, which will, supposedly, make you sterile if you touch it. There is a gate with a doorbell and a peephole, which the guard has to open every time we want to enter/leave.
To reassure everyone, it's much safer than even I expected. There is hardly a mosquito problem, and most people don't even wear bug spray. Because tourism has increased in recent years, crime has increased, but if you're careful about carrying money and you give a firm response when people seem sketchy, it's fine. The main thing we worry about are the drunks at night. We don't walk around after dark. Several volunteers have been sick, but usually it goes away after a day or two. I've had no problems (knock on wood), despite having tasted the porridge at my school! I couldn't help myself, and it HAD been boiled...
I'm placed at "Upendo Nursery," a sort of preschool for kids who can't afford the school fees. It's an amazing place. The kids are well-behaved, and the teachers already run a tight ship. I feel like I'm not helping much sometimes, just watching them speak in Swahili. But I successfully taught them "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" yesterday, and today I taught them what the words meant. I'm learning just as much from them. There's a game called "Uringo" where we hold hands and sing and run in circles. The other evening I went on a walk, and when I pulled out my camera, kids from all over the village crowded around me shouting "Picha! Picha!" When I'd taken tons of pictures, I said "Mnajua uringo?" (Do you know 'uringo'?) and they shouted "Uringo!!" and we played it again.
Amenities aren't as lacking as I expected. We have running water, but we have to be careful not to drink it, as our Western stomachs aren't used to the stuff in it. We have electricity, except for the scheduled blackouts on Tuesdays and Fridays. My room is one of the few with warm water, but apparently they've dipped into the village reserves to provide CCS with water; so we've been, well, conservative with showers. The ladies next door will do laundry, but the weather's been cold and damp lately, so it takes a couple days to get clothes back.
Maybe the weirdest thing about this place is how much it feels like a real place. It's not magical, not everything you see looks beautiful like a National Geographic picture. Not to understate the beauty of this place -- the natural surroundings are gorgeous, and it's amazing to see the brilliant clothes of the "mzee"s (elders), to experience the hospitality of the locals, and just to breathe the fresh air. But it's still another place, and I often have to remind myself that this is Africa. Working in the school, I'm surrounded by positive atmosphere -- We're educating our youth! -- but speaking to people at other placements is a real awakening. I hope to visit an orphanage or hospital sometime soon.
Well, I'd love to write more, but I'm out of time! Hope all is well at home. Feel free to message me if there's anything you want me to address in the next e-mail, or just to say hello!
- Ryan
There is so much to say, and unfortunately not much time to say it! I am sitting in an "internet cafe" of Tengeru village. I've got thirty minutes and the computer keeps crashing. I apologize if this letter seems scattered!
Today is my sixth day in Arusha. I flew in on a packed 747, landing in Kilimanjaro airport in the dark of the night, and there were no lights around for kilometers. We stayed the first night at a quaint place called L'Oasis lodge. The power wasn't working (as is often the case here), so we lit a candle, wrote in our journals, and went to bed early.
The next morning we drove to the home base, a large compound accessible by a dirt road and surrounded by huts. The compound is overly secure -- we are enclosed by 10' walls with an electric fence on top, which will, supposedly, make you sterile if you touch it. There is a gate with a doorbell and a peephole, which the guard has to open every time we want to enter/leave.
To reassure everyone, it's much safer than even I expected. There is hardly a mosquito problem, and most people don't even wear bug spray. Because tourism has increased in recent years, crime has increased, but if you're careful about carrying money and you give a firm response when people seem sketchy, it's fine. The main thing we worry about are the drunks at night. We don't walk around after dark. Several volunteers have been sick, but usually it goes away after a day or two. I've had no problems (knock on wood), despite having tasted the porridge at my school! I couldn't help myself, and it HAD been boiled...
I'm placed at "Upendo Nursery," a sort of preschool for kids who can't afford the school fees. It's an amazing place. The kids are well-behaved, and the teachers already run a tight ship. I feel like I'm not helping much sometimes, just watching them speak in Swahili. But I successfully taught them "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" yesterday, and today I taught them what the words meant. I'm learning just as much from them. There's a game called "Uringo" where we hold hands and sing and run in circles. The other evening I went on a walk, and when I pulled out my camera, kids from all over the village crowded around me shouting "Picha! Picha!" When I'd taken tons of pictures, I said "Mnajua uringo?" (Do you know 'uringo'?) and they shouted "Uringo!!" and we played it again.
Amenities aren't as lacking as I expected. We have running water, but we have to be careful not to drink it, as our Western stomachs aren't used to the stuff in it. We have electricity, except for the scheduled blackouts on Tuesdays and Fridays. My room is one of the few with warm water, but apparently they've dipped into the village reserves to provide CCS with water; so we've been, well, conservative with showers. The ladies next door will do laundry, but the weather's been cold and damp lately, so it takes a couple days to get clothes back.
Maybe the weirdest thing about this place is how much it feels like a real place. It's not magical, not everything you see looks beautiful like a National Geographic picture. Not to understate the beauty of this place -- the natural surroundings are gorgeous, and it's amazing to see the brilliant clothes of the "mzee"s (elders), to experience the hospitality of the locals, and just to breathe the fresh air. But it's still another place, and I often have to remind myself that this is Africa. Working in the school, I'm surrounded by positive atmosphere -- We're educating our youth! -- but speaking to people at other placements is a real awakening. I hope to visit an orphanage or hospital sometime soon.
Well, I'd love to write more, but I'm out of time! Hope all is well at home. Feel free to message me if there's anything you want me to address in the next e-mail, or just to say hello!
- Ryan