We are Africans!

Today, the second day at Matonyok, was really our first day of school (forget the title from yesterday). We split into teaching the individual standard groups (standards are basically grades, or levels...they use the British system) and began to teach. Ashton and I had the youngest kids, standard 1 I believe. There were 20 of them, but several wandered in and out throughout the day. Amy had 3 kids in standard 2 or 3, and then my mom had the standard 4 kids, of which there were 5. Ashton and I started with some math (basic addition and then an intro to subtraction) before realizing that the kids really had no idea what we were talking about. Eventually we just read stories, learned shapes, sang songs, and did some coloring. After 45 minutes of learning, the kids all get 5 or so minutes of playing outside before going back in to learn again. It was here that I learned the "fun value" of a tire. The kids had tons and tons of fun rolling tires around and letting me push the tires down the driveway into the play area. So then we went back in to learn up until lunch time. For lunch we again had beans and rice, this time with some sort of vegetable topping that Emmy picked from her garden just hours before. My Swahili has picked up a bit to where I can talk to the "groundskeeper" Emmanuel, who speaks very little English. Mike translates the gaps for each of us. After lunch we went with the kids to Learning Space, which is somewhat of a daycare/private school for kids sponsored by rich British people. Apparently when the kids who usually go there are on holiday, or summer, the kids from Matonyok are able to come and play. We all piled in to a huge safari truck that looked and felt much more like an army truck and drove the few minutes to the place. The kids played soccer, jumped on a trampoline, put on costumes, and did some paiting. We stayed there before heading back to Matonyok and then getting ready to go back to the hotel. Mike and Nosim took us again on the dalla-dallas, but this time Mike and I sat up front with the driver and worked a bit more on my Swahili. Mike keeps saying that the best way to learn a culture is to just walk around and talk to people, which he does with us everyday. We took the dalla-dalla to the market, where we had a grocery list from Emmy with things to get for the house. I myself purchased a delicious (kitamu) treat called "gunzi." It's corn that sits over a fire until it's kernels are somewhere between regular corn and popcorn kernels. It was really good. We got back on another dalla-dalla to get to the main part of town, and then with Mike and Nosim we walked to the vicinity of the hotel, upon which they left and we walked the last 2 or so blocks. On the last stretch, some teenager-looking kid named Nixon apparently recognized me, and he and I talked a bit in broken Swahili about how I suck at Swahili. Ah well. Another day in the books. Tomorrow we'll do it all again, although we are planning to go the Cultural Center, apparently a really nice shopping place. Usiku mwema (good night)

School Day

Today was truly Africa. We woke up early so as to meet Alley (not Ali, like I thought yesterday). She is the resident white chick working for The Foundation for Tomorrow. She's been in Arusha/Tanzania for a little over a year now, so she showed us around the grocery store (Shoprite...think Dollar General meets Costco) as well as the bank. She also has a car, so she drove us to the orphanage. The journey to the orphanage was unique in and of itself. I still haven't figured out the layout of this city, so it seems like it's just endless markets and masses of people. We turned off the main drag after some time and took a dirt road. All of the sudden it was like BAM, we were in the Africa that we all see in National Geographic. I'm talking mud huts, people balancing stuff on heads, skinny cows, random dogs, goats, etc. It was beautiful...very rural and self-sustaining. The entire trip felt like an offroad excursion...the road randomly turns into ditches at places, runs over rocks, etc...and Alley was driving us in a little station wagon-type thing. After a couple of twists and turns, we arrived at Matonyok. Originally we thought that Matonyok was a village, so that's what we've been telling our African friends the whole time. No wonder they have no idea where it is...it's actually Emmy and Ndemno's farm/orphanage. Matonyok is their last name, or their family name...however you want to look at it. As soon as we got out of the car we had our hands shaken by dozens of tiny African children. In their broken English they would tell us their name and that it was lovely to meet us. Luckily, we've made name tags that we are distributing tomorrow so that we can remember everyone. At first they were very shy, but when Ndemno (the dad) told them to take us on a tour of the grounds, they opened up. It was just like a movie: four white people with bookbags being escorted by about a dozen African children and a few adults. Originally we were supposed to stay at a guesthouse (a circular brick hut...Masai tradition) that is currently being built on the grounds. Obviously, since it's not finished, we've been staying elsewhere. Reason for the delay: they make their own bricks and cement at the farm! We were led through the many gardens and plots of corn (maize) as well as sunflowers (they use the oil) and chickpeas. They showed us the brand new bathrooms that they had built as well as the water system they had set up. The house itself doubles as a school and on Sundays, a Sunday school for the kids. There are currently 19 kids living there, with a total of 32 attending class during the day. Many of the kids are orphans, a few are street kids that Emmy and Ndemno have taken in, one has cerebral palsy and is paralyzed on one side, and one is HIV positive. Additionally, Emmy and Ndemno's daughter, Nosim, volunteers there when she isn't working at another school, as well as a lady named Susie who does all the cooking (the kitchen is an outdoor fire pit). There are two men, Emmanuel and Mike, as well as another man (don't know his name) who is a volunteer teacher there. Also in the house is the 91 year old grandmother who only speaks Masai. We thought she was bed-ridden, but when we were walking around later we saw that she had crawled out of bed (she can't walk, and doesn't like the wheelchair), sat herself down on a stool, and was beating the crap out of dried beans to un-shell them...she's 91 and eats little more than beans and rice each day. We sat down and talked with Emmy and Ndemno for a while and then distributed Old Navy flip flops from home to the kids. Mike, Emmanuel, and I sat outside of the house and shared some tea while they tried to teach me Swahili. Emmanuel doesn't speak English, so while he taught me Swahili, I taught him English. Apparently my Swahili is decent enough to where Mike told the kids to treat me not as a European but as someone who speaks Swahili (my Swahili sucks)...now they don't speak English to me. Great. For lunch we had homemade beans and rice with homemade bananas (delish). After that we left with Mike and Nosim, who escorted us back to the hotel. From the orphanage, Emmanuel drove us all in a practically broken down Range Rover (we had to push it down a hill to get it going) to the dalla-dalla stop. A dalla-dalla, as far as I can tell, is basically a small van-type vehicle (there must be at least a million in Arusha) that gets packed with people. Luckily, Mike and Nosim knew exactly where we were going. We got off about 45 minutes from the hotel and walked through the city with the two of them as our guides. We bought some more flip flops for the kids who's feet were too small. It was a lot of fun. We felt like genuine Africans (except we are white) because we're staying away from the huge safari caravans full of old people with dozens of cameras. Safaris are a huge business around here...kind of like prostitution in Vegas but with lions and stuff. We got back to the apartment and invited Mike and Nosim in for about half an hour. Mike decided to get us a better tv deal, so he went to the front desk and came back with a better antenna! I think he's going to be our guide for the remainder of the trip. He and I talk for hours while we practice Swahili. After they left we went to dinner at the hotel again and then came back to the apartment to study up on what we are going to teach tomorrow. I think I got geography. So until next time!

Day 2

Alright...we're at a new hotel tonight. Actually, we're at an apartment! We woke up this morning after last night's adventure and ate a delicious big breakfast at the hotel. It turns out we were actually smuggled into the hotel last night...the manager didn't even know we were ever there. MacMillan picked us up again and drove us around Arusha looking for a new hotel, and we stumbled upon the Arusha Resort Center (not actually a resort), which is where we are now. I'm writing from a small internet cafe right next to the reception desk where the internet is less than desirable. At least I get to use my laptop. We're starting to get used to things. Once you get over the stereotype that everyone wants to rob/kill you, it gets to be kind of fun. We dropped off our luggage and headed out to walk around town. The first thing we noticed when we hit the main drag was the hawkers. They follow you everywhere, all trying to sell you the same "paintings" that they "created." While they won't follow you into stores, they do wait outside. And we've learned from some other tourists that they will remember your name for later days. Great. We found a little deli-type internet cafe that was full of white people, and it became sort of the American Embassy, as we would retreat there every so often to get rid of the hawkers following us. On our way to the market, we joined up with a group of young adults from California who were volunteering around town and headed to the market as we were. They walked around with us, and one of the guys (Tyler) helped my mom do a bit of dealing. Every vendor begs you to come inside and look at their things, which look just like the other vendors' things. Ah well...it's all cheap ($1=1300 shillings...my meal tonight was 7000 shillings...you do the math). We got back to our aparment around 2, and sat around reading and studying Swahili (I'm getting decent!) until we all took naps until 6:30. Dinner was at the hotel, and the waiter remembered me from earlier when I had a conversation with him about different Swahili words. The food was delicious (and cheap). Now it's night time and we're struggling to get an internet connection. Tomorrow we begin at the orphanage, and Ali, the lady who is our liason, will be arriving to help us around. My mom is putting a lot of faith in her, so hopefully she doesn't screw up. Until then!

Usiku mwema (Goodnight)

The First Night

So we arrived last night to Kilimanjaro Airport at 8pm Africa time (12pm Charlotte time). The airport isn't much of an airport really...just one long tarmac strip and a big building. Our jet looked huge compared to what was around it. The first thing we noticed was the blackness. Aside from the airport lighting, the surrounding area was completely black. Accordingly, there were more stars than any of us cared to count. After getting through customs, we realized that the hotel we had been booked at hadn't sent the car they said they would, so after a bit of dealing and some assistance from a "cab dispatcher," we stumbled upon what would become the Jesus of our first few hours in Africa. His name was McMillan, a student of accounting in Arusha, who was also a cab driver. Initially we were worried, because the dispatcher kept repeating what sounded a lot like directions to the hotel. We were convinced we were going to get lost. We got on our way, cruising at a pleasant 80mph down dark Africa highways dotted with pedestrians and cyclists. I noticed as a looked closely at the side of the roads that what appeared like total darkness and ghost towns was actually peoples' houses...there just wasn't any electricity. When it is nighttime, it is nighttime. McMillan did his best in broken English to educate us on Arusha and the surrounding area before arriving at what we thought was the right hotel. When we arrived, it turned out that there are actually two hotels by the same name, and that this one isn't ours. I should mention that it was mostly McMillan doing the talking, since he, of course, speaks Swahili. He did teach me some words though as we leaned on the cab drinking the complimentary "iced tea" from the hotel we weren't even staying at. After some minutes, we got back in the much-too-small cab and headed a quarter kilometer down to the other hotel. This one was scary. We drove down a long dirt road surrounded by tall grass and approached what looked like a bar. Sure enough, it was a hotel, but they weren't expecting us at all, and we didn't really want to be expected...at least at this place. Again, McMillan (our Messiah) did some dealing, and then he and my mom decided to go back to the original hotel (it was much nicer) with us to see if we could get a room. We ended up with two rooms for the night, and my mom is now trying to negotiate for more. We got help moving our luggage from the chef, the bellhop, and the deskboy. Truth be told, everyone here so far has been extremely nice, even if our Swahili does suck terribly. We got into our rooms, which were actually pretty nice, including the huge mosquito nets. I took a shower, which I was told would be hot, but was actually freezing. I made sure to keep my mouth closed so as not to catch malaria or some other shower disease. Eventually, we got to bed comfortably and got ready for our first daylight African experience.