Mwalimu

This week I'm attempting to get into the swing of teaching. I will start by saying I already have even more respect for all the teachers out there. I thought advertising was hard work. For the first couple of days they drop us each off at our placements so we don't get lost walking the dirt roads (and let's be honest, I'd totally get lost, and probably still will). We first drop Andrea and Michele off at the school at the state penitentiary for the staff's children. We enter through guarded gates and see the prisoners in their orange jumpsuits working with the crops just 10 feet away. It is like a scene out of a movie. The kids run out to wave frantically as we approach. There are over 50 kids in each of their classes ranging in age and capability.

I next arrive at Karanga Catholic Nursery School where I am warmly welcomed by Sister Casmiri. We met the previous day and she calls me 'twin' since we are both 32. But she is about 4'11 and with her dark skin and habit we couldn't be more opposite.

Before I know it dozens of children race to the van and begin hugging me before I even get out. They shout "Mzungu"- meaning white person, over and over. They are desperate for hugs and attention and are fascinated by every inch of me - my freckles, pale skin,  and frizzy hair. Some are in uniforms, others are not. Some wear Winnie-the-Pooh sweatshirts with no understanding of who Winnie-the-Pooh is, as they have been donated. Some wear cleats because those are the only shoes they have, also a donation.

The school is a bit heartbreaking at first sight but I soon recognize they have basic necessities; that phrase has already started to mean something quite different than it did just a week ago. There is a chalkboard, a few pieces of chalk, a handful of books, and one wall-hanging with the ABCs. As we enter the classroom it is complete chaos. Total chaos. 30 kids, ages 2 through 5, plus the extreme language barrier. Sister runs a tight ship but I definitely panic whenever she leaves. They see me as the fun white person who brings crafts, activities and songs therefor they act out like I'm the babysitter. We say prayers (in Swahili), and run through the alphabet. Sister hands out cups filled with bottle-caps and I can't figure out what they could be for. Then we practice counting the old rusty soda and beer bottle-caps to learn the numbers.

Outside during recess I try and play with 30 kids all demanding attention with just a few balls, one long rope, and rocks and pieces of wood the kids make a (scary!) seesaw out of. Regardless, they have a blast running around in the dirt and it is once again it is sheer chaos. We head inside since it's now time for porridge. Each cup is filled from a big bucket and passed out to the children. They are as excited as my nephew Mac gets when he gets a chocolate donut. Once they finish drinking the porridge they line up outside to wash their hands in a bucket.

While it's hard to communicate with them, language with children luckily doesn't require as many words. And they are instantly already so loving and trusting they really just want to stand there and hug you, and climb on you. I'm learning enough words to shout things like "sit down" and "quiet." It goes against my nature to raise my voice so this is quite a test to try and control the chaos. We had success today though singing the ABCs. We must have sang it over 100 times but it seemed to help with the alphabet and they enjoyed it. When they want my attention they yell either "Teacher! Mwalimu! or Bibi!" Bibi means grandmother. The last volunteer was in her 70s so that's what they call her and it seems to be easier than JessKa which we are still working on.

After class I met Father and saw the priests house. We chatted about the children, life in "the very big city" of NY, and of course, he asked how Obama was doing. He said, "Many people use to like him. Not so many as now, right? New election?" He asked who was running against him and I explained likely Romney which he replied, "Mick? Romney?"

I'm always astounded how in other countries people follow our politics so closely because they look up to us and I barely know what form of government Tanzania has. Father acknowledged broadly the challenges Obama has faced, and I attempted to simply explain the clash with Congress although I don't think he and Sister grasped the concept of the checks and balance system.

It is so nice to feel truly needed on an entirely new level. Their are so many children in just this neighborhood  there is very little individual attention and the schools grow faster than they can keep up. We also have the ability to help with learning English. Sister and I are attempting to teach other a handful of words to each other a day.

We are heading to the orphanage later and will bring clothes, sugar and rice. It's sure to be another eye opening experience.