Mr Michael has arranged for his wife Magreth to meet us at
Friends Corner, as I wasn’t sure of the way to the new school (I had visited
the site a couple of times in 2009, but we had walked from the old school not
arrived by dalla-dalla). Friends Corner is a busy dalla-dalla and boda-boda stop,
with lots happening. While waiting a half hour for Magreth to arrive, we are
entertained by locals (and I’m sure, them by us!) Seeing Magreth is a happy
reunion also, as she taught at Memorial when I was here last time. I'm surprised to see she is pregnant (with her and Mr Michael’s sixth child), but
she seems fine with crawling onto a packed dalla-dalla and riding the bumpy
twenty or so minutes to the school.
It is difficult to see out of the foggy windows of the dalla-dalla,
but I managed(with the help of Magreth) to notice a few of my old haunts,
including the place where you go to Irine’s house (the student I sponsor), and
Tanga Corner, the dalla-dalla spot for the old school. The stop for the new
school, Machine, is another 5 minutes up the road. When we get out, we are confronted
with a walk of about 500 metres, possibly more, in soft, sticky mud. This mud
is the devil! It sticks to your shoes, so as you walk you gradually become
taller, and it is near impossible to get off. This mud has created a new
project for us, which I will tell you about later.
Finally, we get to the school. The first student I see is
Jackeline, who is the mama mdoga (small aunt) of Denis (the cutie everyone knows from
baby class). She gives me a big smile, then keeps on running to class…what, no
hug?! Glory is the close behind her, and when she sees me, comes straight over
and gives me a big hug. Jackeline, seeing this, soon follows. I get the feeling
they knew we were coming, despite Mr Michael saying he had not told them
(later, I find out that one of the teachers may have informed them that
morning). I’m a bit teary at this point, but hold it together as best I can as
most of the teachers are coming forward to introduce themselves. As I said,
only Mr Benja remains on teaching staff from the last time I was here, so there
are lots of teachers to meet, and despite not knowing their names, they all
know who we are, and make us feel more than welcome.
Magreth ushers us into the office, and, not wanting to be
rude, we go in, but we're itching to see the kids. After a few minutes I ask Magreth if we can go and see the kids, and she says “Ya, you can go.” And so
begins the endless singing, dancing and welcoming that lasts for the next hour or
so.
The children welcoming us with the song below.
It is the right time, for us to sing a song,
To thank you Alan and Kasey Lloyd.
May God bless you, in all your life
We thank you so much for your donation.
Unfortunately, our trip coincides with school holidays! Why,
you are wondering, are there children at school on holidays?? For the three
weeks prior to the school closing for one week, the school enters “tuition”
mode, where children come to do revision of the past term. It is not compulsory,
so you would think most children would not come, yes? Not in Tanzania ! The
kids are hungry for education, and a lot of students are in attendance, Today
however, because of the rain, the classes are tiny as many students find it
difficult, or simply impossible, to get to school during bad weather.
The children that are here, however, keep us in high
spirits. Irine reacts as I expected; a big smile, then instantly puts her head
on the desk, too shy to look up again for a few minutes. In Standard Five (the
highest grade currently at the school), Jackeline and Glory are later joined by
Janet Philemon, who started at the school when I was here previously. Janet is
sponsored by a dear friend, Carolyn Travers, who will be glad to hear she is doing
well. They are the only Standard Five students from my previous visit that are here
today. This class was only Standard Two last time, and while a lot of students
are absent today, I am told that Dickson, David, Analinda, Swaiba, Sabrina,
Mary, Anjela, and Naomi are all still attending Memorial. Farajah has since
left, but many other have joined them, and I’m soon to be tested on their names
(“Madam Kes, Madam Kes, what is-a my name?”) It will be a struggle to remember
them all, as the school was only 70 students in 2009, and is now around 400!
A blessing in disguise is the fact that tuition only runs
for half a day; this gives us all afternoon to do many things that would not be
possible if we were working at the school for the entire day. Next week, we
plan on going on home visits, working on a few of our projects, as well as spending
time with Mama and the family, and seeing the sights of Arusha.
At home that night I spend time with Mama, Aika, and
Catherine while they are cooking (they won’t let me help, but are happy for me
to sit and chat while they prepare our nightly feast). We talk about all the
volunteers who lived at Mama’s when I was here (Mama says “Your group Kesia,
they were a good group! Good chairwoman!”) and we remind each other of stories
we have forgotten (such as Mama Kym’s champagne wedding dance, and Emma’s stint
in the chicken coop after losing a bet). They ask after all the volunteers
(“How is Gabu? Jamie? Alice ?
What about the bebies?”) and I update them as much as I can. While many of the
past volunteers are not in regular contact with Mama and the family, I know
that this home in Arusha, and this beautiful family, is always in their hearts.
…
Our second day at school is a little drier, and so more
children are in attendance. Mary and Anjela have joined their friends in
Standard Five. In Standard Two is Denis (yay!) and Janet (who some may remember
as the quietest, shyest girl in the history of the planet from my last visit, who
was just beginning to open up when I left). Standard Four has the most new
familiar faces in it, Baraka, Scolah (sponsored by the wonderful Lilley
family), Bridget…and it is sight of Flora and Frankie in this class that breaks
me. Flora was the subject of many a goofy close-up photo in 2009 (surely some
remember those), and Frankie is one of the funniest kids I’ve ever met. Mr
Michael’s children Rachel and Nyerere are also familiar faces, though I can’t
remember which class they are in. Mr Michael is also here today, and has all the teachers, cooks,
and drivers meet in the office to introduce themselves and welcome us to
Memorial, despite us having met most of the yesterday.
 |
| The staff of Ghati Memorial Foundation School...and me :) |
 |
| Mr Michael and Dad inspect the water pump (bought with funds already raised) |
Mr Michael informs me that Magreth is expecting
us at their home after school. I ask Mr Michael if it is far, to which he replies “No, it
is not far. You remember it?” What I remember is a loooong walk from the school
to Mr Michael’s home, but regardless, when the school bell/tire iron rings we
set off. It is quite a walk, but it's okay, as along the way we have a good
chance to talk. It is difficult to explain where we are walking, but I’ll do
what I can. The outer “districts” of Arusha have no real streets as such, just
dirt pathways often shared by vehicles, people, and animals. Houses are built
anywhere, there is generally no set “yard” or “plot” on which one builds.
Indeed, as we are walking down a path, we have to change course because someone
has started building a house directly in our path. I have no idea how people
find their way around (me, with a hopeless sense of direction, would have no
luck at all). It is equally difficult to explain to Mr Michael the layout of
streets, footpaths, yards, and houses in Australia .
We arrive at Mr Michael’s, and it is as I remembered, a
small house that shares a common area with a number of others. Visiting Mr
Michael’s home reaffirms his honesty and integrity; the money we are raising
and sending to him is definitely not being spent on a lavish lifestyle. His
living room is tiny and cramped, containing a few small couches, a coffee
table, a cabinet, and a double bed, with very little room to move between.
Still, it is cosy and welcoming, and Mr Michael shows us, on his tiny
television, video footage of the school children filmed on the camera Dad sent
him last Christmas (after he was robbed of the one I left behind, and the one
Rachel Lilley sent that didn’t make it past the dodgy post office).
We have some interesting chats this afternoon. Benja is very
interested in that fact that, although I consider myself a Christian, I do not
regularly attend church. I think he’s trying to get out of going to church!
Another popular topic is Dad’s seniority. This has been running conversation
between us and Mama, and it seems now between us and Mr Michael. It’s odd, I’ve
never thought of Dad as old and had no doubt he would be able to handle
everything Tanzania threw at him (even a machete attack, though hopefully not!)
but the way Mama and Mr Michael have been speaking to/about him…you’d think
he’s 80! Mama keeps (half-jokingly) upping me for “making” Dad walk places (ie
one kilometre to the closest dalla-dalla), and both are doubtful that he should
even be riding in a dalla-dalla. I think we manage to convince Mr Michael that
he is still young and strong (though, wearing his cowboy hat around will earn
him a reputation as an important, respected old Baba). Now to work on Mama :)
Another interesting conversation involves the tradition in
Mr Michael’s culture of having many wives. As Mr Michael put it “to some,
having one wife is like having one eye.” Mr Michael, who only has one (very
beautiful and loving) wife, explains that this old way of thinking is due to
lack of education. For those who think this way, having many wives increases
your status in the community, so therefore increases your power and the weight
of your opinion. “It is their way of having a say and having power in their
community” Mr Michael says. “But, because we are educated, we know what is
right.”
As we are talking, Magreth prepares lunch and places various
dishes on the coffee table at our knees. I can tell Dad is feeling uneasy
about the amount of food being placed before us, not because he is a small
eater, but because the food would surely be appreciated by the family. But to be invited
into the home of a Tanzanian to share a meal is a great honour, and is something
that over time, despite guilt, I have gotten used to (and I’m sure Dad will
too). We start with bread and warm milk, followed by spaghetti (not wog-style
like Ingham, but African-style), a saucy meat, cucumber, banana, mango, and
pear – a veritable feast. Tanzanians tend not to talk much during mealtimes,
and I’m always tempted to channel Homer Simpson “Can’t talk…eating.”
We say our farewells, and head back to Mama’s. Apparently,
we failed to convince Mr Michael of Dad’s ease at travelling in a dalla-dalla,
because he texts us that evening saying that the school bus will be at Mama’s
at 7am to pick us up. D’oh!
…
Of course, today they are early to pick us up! Mr Michael
and the school bus arrive at 6:50am, and have to wait a few minutes while Dad
and I scramble to get ready. We drop Mr Michael at Friends Corner, apparently
he is not taking the trip with us. As we embark on the trip, I think I
understand why! We spend the next hour and a half on some of the worst roads of
ever been on, with the exception of the M1 in Mozambique – they even rival the
Sani Pass, which is the road to reach Lesotho from South Africa. While
obviously not as steep, we navigate our way through virtual rivers in the
middle of the road, rocks bigger than my head, and water-filled holes the size
of small dining tables. Plus, of course, the usual traffic of people, animals,
and vehicles. Dad compared the drive to 4WD parks in Australia . It was really
unbelievable. The frustrating thing is 40 minutes of this trip was to pick up just
one child! Doesn’t make a lot of sense, but we go with it. Later, when Mr
Michael tells us the school bus will be at Mama’s at 7am the next day as “we
want our guests to be comfortable”, we manage to convince him that the 20
minute dalla-dalla is fine for us. I have no doubt we will be ‘lucky;’ enough
to ride the bus to school again before we leave.
 |
| Typical road on the daily bus route |
At school, I’m excited to see Dickson in Standard Five, a
child who has used someone’s phone to call me a few times in Australia (in case
you haven’t realised, I spent a lot of time in this class in 2009, when they
were Standard Two). Dad and I also sit in Standard Two to learn some Swahili
(and I get an answer right on the board, yay me!).
On the way home from school, we stop at the internet café so
I can organise a time to visit The School of St Jude’s, a truly inspirational
project which is often covered by Australian Story on the ABC. The school was
founded and is run by an Australian woman Gemma Sisia, and is considered one of
the best schools in Tanzania .
After reading her book ‘St Jude’s’ I started sponsoring a child and teacher at
the school. The reason I chose to volunteer in Arusha in 2009 was so
I could visit them, Unfortunately, Gemma was in Australia
on a fundraising tour at the time, so I didn’t get to meet her.
I also contact a friend Gen, who was the girlfriend of
Canadian Shane, one of my kakas (brothers) who lived at Mama’s (and who was
involved in the infamous machete incident). Gen is now married and has a six
week old baby, and we arrange for her to come to Mama’s that afternoon. It is wonderful to see Gen again, and I’m happy to say that I’m the first mzungu to
meet her cute little baby Edward. Mama is also happy to see Gen, and invites
her to attend Catherine’s wedding send-off (which I will have to explain
another day). Gen is also the marketing executive for a safari company, and says she will get us rafiki price (mates rates) on our safari. Fingers crossed
for a good deal.
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| Jen (Gen's sister-in-law), me, Eddie, and Gen |
…
Thursday and it’s raining again (damn, we should’ve got the
school bus). Dad makes the whole dalla-dalla laugh when he gives up his seat to
a large African woman (“there’s no way she would’ve squeezed in standing up!”
he says). Because of the rain, there are not a lot of children at school today.
The ground is worst than ever, and some points my foot almost comes out of my
shoe because it is so stuck in the mud. We resolve to do something about this.
Mr Michael informs us that a truckload of gravelly dirt type stuff that will
fix this problem costs only 40,000 shillings (around $25) so we decide that
this will be our next project after the water tank. Painting will be difficult
if the rain keeps up, but hopefully we’ll manage to get it done too. We both
teach a few classes today, and I sit in on Teacher Alan’s English class…man,
those kids got themselves an education! Hehehe. As the Easter weekend is upon
us, we say goodbye to the teachers and students for a whole four days. Next
week, we’ve got lots of work to do.
 |
| Muddy!! |
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