DAY SEVEN Tuesday, 21 February 2012

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RAU PRIMARY SCHOOL…..

Alfred and I appeared unannounced at the school mid morning.  We entered the faculty room where a dozen or so teachers sat intently in front of stacks and bundles of student work, grading diligently.  My heart felt a heavy groan of dread, just looking at all those bundles waiting to be graded.  The day was hot, the sun not yet at the apex of the sky.  The campus was quiet, save for the recitations of students inside their classrooms.  We were directed to an office across the courtyard where we were met shortly,

by Matteo, the second in charge at the school.  Public school attendance is mandatory in Tanzania from age seven.  In order to attend, students must pay tuition each year (15,000 TSH per year:  roughly $9.50 USD).  This does not appear to be expensive, in American standards, however, most people in Tanzania live on less than $2.00 per day so in relative terms, the costs can be prohibitive.  If I understood correctly, there are 719 students enrolled in this school.  Each class has 45-55 students.  There are NO teacher’s aides, no ed techs, one teacher per classroom.  Students come to school around 7 or 7:30 am to clean their classrooms.  Lessons begin at 8 am.  Hot lunch is served to all students without fee, thanks to a two year sponsorship paid by a donor from the USA.  I asked Matteo about the greatest challenges that she experiences in her school.  Not unlike what I have heard from my friends who are teachers in the US, she said her greatest challenge and frustration is NOT the children but rather the failure of their parents to participate in school activities to support the children’s learning.  Regarding successes, she beamed as she told us that 73 out of 79 students passed their standard graduation exams last year.  The students are taught English as a required subject in primary school but their language skills are underdeveloped.  I asked about the possibility of volunteering on a weekly basis upon my return.  To my delight, she indicated that she would be pleased to have me volunteer, AFTER my paperwork had been approved by her administration!  A wise administrator.

 

That afternoon, I contacted Daniel to see if he would be available to have dinner with me.  I was pleased that his schedule would allow us to have some time together.  We agreed on a meeting time and walked to catch the daladala.  At the transit station in Moshi, we stepped out of the daladala and walked across town to my favorite dinner place, the Union Café.  Our conversation, as is always the case with Daniel, was fascinating.   At one point, he put me on the phone with one of his professors to discuss working together for project development.  When we had finished eating and conversing, Daniel called for a cab. To my delight, it was Pauli, the same driver that picked me up at the airport.  I did not recognize him at the time, but he had also been a driver for me the previous year.  At the edge of the street, talking to Pauli outside of his car, he indicated that there was someone else that I knew.  I am not sure who was the most surprised, Paul (I will call him Dancin’ Paul and will explain later) or myself.  We had met as volunteers last year.  I had printed a particularly sweet photograph of Dancin’ Paul at his volunteer placement with one of the children.  We hugged and exchanged greetings, both of us genuinely elated to see one another by chance, outside the Union Café.  I immediately took out the photo and offered it to him.  His face lit up, eyes crinkled with joy as he looked at the photo. He pressed it to his heart.  You may have it, I encouraged.  The expression on his face was radiant.  The little girl in the photo with him was one of his “favorites” and their admiration of each other was obvious in the photo.  After our greetings, I inquired if he would be available to join me for dinner the next night.  My lucky day, he said yes.  We agreed on the time.  The three of us piled in Pauli’s car; Pauli, the driver, me in the passenger seat up front and Daniel and Paul in the back.  Our conversation was filled with laughter as Pauli expertly   maneuvered around the potholes in the road through the dark.  At one point, we were stopped behind a car with a license plate that had the letters A-S-S in addition to the numbers.  The guys were speaking in Kiswahili among themselves and I got the joke.  I teased them that when I return next year, they will not be able to talk without my understanding the words.  In the meantime, I said,  “I have sons and I can read the license plate. I understand the chatter and chuckles even if I don’t understand the words.”  BUSTED! 

 

INSERT FOTO OF PAUL IN STRIPED SWEATER with little girl