Think about an old western movie, at the critical scene where the boot-jangling, leather-chapped hero strides through those miniature doors that serve no real purpose other than for dramatic effect.
Then try to picture that happening in Africa.
Today was the first day of ACPs, which are essentially final exams for the semester. Every day there is a different discipline (subject) or two, all given at the same time, to reduce cheating. Teachers aren't allowed to proctor their own exams, but are randomly distributed to proctor during the week.
Giving the quizzes last week, I caught about 45 (out of my 400) students cheating. Many of them had their small, compact notebooks under their inside thigh, letting it peek out when they were stumped for an answer; others had meticulously small cheat sheets, and others tried talking to their deskmate or looking at their test. All that's old news, anyway.
Well, I have earned myself quite a reputation for all this "controlling" of tests - it's quite rare to get caught as often as I catch people.
For the first ACP today, I strode up to the back building of the school to proctor the Portuguese exam for the oldest 9th grade turma. There was a fair amount of resignation that they weren't going to do well anyway, so there was little reaction to knowing I was going to proctor their exam.
But after their 30-minute break, I had a younger and more worried turma in the main school building. I grabbed the mimeographed exams for the History exam, and started walking very slowly for the room.
I might as well have had an orchestra backing me up with melodramatic music. Heads turned more than usual to see exactly where I was going, as I slowed down my pace. (Might as well milk it!)
I could hear the spurs clanking along the cement - it got deafeningly silent outside and the fear was obvious in the eyes of some students. I felt like "reaching for my gun", but realized the joke would be lost as quickly as it was made.
As I turned into the victims' room, I heard cheering behind me from students in other turmas. There was plenty of noise as I repeated my test-giving mantra - "I won't give the exam until it's silent."
I gave the rules in terms of not looking, speaking or having any cheating materials. Within 5 minutes of giving out the exams, I had given about 6 warnings for looking, and a minute later, threw a previously-warned kid out.
Within the next half hour, he had about 7 friends. They key to finding kids who are cheating is to look for several things: looking straight down, looking at you, hands not on the desk, leaning back uncharacteristically, hands covering the mouth or eyes darting without the parallel head motion.
But suspecting that someone is cheating is never enough. If it doesn't involve something tangible, you have to be sure. I trap people by pretending I don't see them, move away to a different part of the room and surprise them by looking in their direction. And when I think I have someone who has hidden a notebook or a cheat sheet, I don't make it obvious at all that I've seen it until I'm right beside them. I tell them to stand up. Any kid who's not cheating will be more than happy to quickly stand up and will volunteer their pockets or exam.
But if they are, there are two types. The first and more common type pretends they didn't hear you while they try and figure out a game plan. You ask again, and they make up some excuse - keep staring at them and they'll crack. They either smile and beg you to forgive them or they try and tuck their material away. Some just leave.
Then there's the second type. These kids think they're sly and slip the material in a pocket, onto the floor, under the test - I know I'm not yet privy to all the methods, but I catch most of the kids who try this one.
If it sounds like I'm enjoying myself, it's only half true. I like a good challenge, especially when it comes to being observant. But I hate the fact that I'm messing up these kids' grades, but I know it's because they feel like they need to cheat. It really bothers me when I throw out a skinny girl who rarely talks and has burns over her legs. I know I shouldn't, but I do give special treatment to them. If I throw them out, what is their chance of getting any education at all? Their parents are scraping together every last cent to send them to school, and here I am f---ing it all up.
But what kind of education is a false education? If they've never learned how to learn, then were they just wasting their parents' money and their own time? Or is there some other solution?
Maybe I can make kids who are cheating attend some extra classes I run for study skills and give them back points for every session they attend.
Maybe I can sit down with every one and figure out why they're cheating.
Maybe I can partner them up with a good student who can help them out.
Maybe then I won't feel like John Wayne, which is most definitely a good thing.
Peace
John
Saturday, April 26, 2003
3/23/2003
A conversation with the little guy (majority):
Why?
Why do countries declare war?
Why do these countries feel that they are right?
Why are these countries so insular?
Why are these countries so rich?
Why are they making money off of the rest of the world?
Why is the rest of the world producing things cheaply and buying things expensively?
Why don't they have a choice?
Why do countries declare war?
I went to the "clube" to see if I could FINALLY get involved in the theater group here in town. On my way, I was stopped by an older man who had been partying just a little too much and wanted some more company. He already had a couple dozen friends and family, but he saw the opportunity to make friends with the new guy. I had to pass on the suspicious-looking alcoholic drink sitting in a coffee tin on the ground, as tempting as it was.
I continued on, arriving at the "clube" about 5 minutes late. I went around to the left side of a fairly large building that seems to have been a performance/recreational hall at some point, but has fallen into rapid disrepair. The entrance was marked with the word "Biblioteca" (library) on the side, and I entered with some trepidation as this was a fairly strange empty place with who knows who inside.
I was greeted by a woman who looked to be living there - food and clothing were strewn about, and her receding hair line and badly burnt legs revealed alienation from the community of some sort. She had an air about her I had not seen in Mozambique just yet - resignation.
I asked her if the people who come to rehearse had arrived and she said that they hadn't.
I went around to the front to poke around a bit and found an open door. Inside, all the earmarks of a living, breathing theatre were present, but the ghosts of 25 years hung heavy. Tiles were not surprisingly missing from the floor and walls, doors were absent and graffiti decorated the remaining white walls.
Still, it was in usable shape and I had heard around town that events go on every so often at the "clube".
I stepped back outside, meaning to wait for everyone else. Not finding necessary shade on the front step, I sat under a nearby tree. Soon, some neighborhood kids I know came over to chat and show me their fishing rod. Little by little, I accumulated about a dozen kids, about 12 years old at most.
They spoke mainly Changana, so I got a very fun and spirited 45-minute lesson. We traded silly walks, exercises, wall-climbing techniques and language. All in all, I've never laughed so hard in my life around pre-teens.
After I realized the rehearsal was not to be, I headed back not disappointed but feeling rather fulfilled.
Peace
John
Why?
Why do countries declare war?
Why do these countries feel that they are right?
Why are these countries so insular?
Why are these countries so rich?
Why are they making money off of the rest of the world?
Why is the rest of the world producing things cheaply and buying things expensively?
Why don't they have a choice?
Why do countries declare war?
I went to the "clube" to see if I could FINALLY get involved in the theater group here in town. On my way, I was stopped by an older man who had been partying just a little too much and wanted some more company. He already had a couple dozen friends and family, but he saw the opportunity to make friends with the new guy. I had to pass on the suspicious-looking alcoholic drink sitting in a coffee tin on the ground, as tempting as it was.
I continued on, arriving at the "clube" about 5 minutes late. I went around to the left side of a fairly large building that seems to have been a performance/recreational hall at some point, but has fallen into rapid disrepair. The entrance was marked with the word "Biblioteca" (library) on the side, and I entered with some trepidation as this was a fairly strange empty place with who knows who inside.
I was greeted by a woman who looked to be living there - food and clothing were strewn about, and her receding hair line and badly burnt legs revealed alienation from the community of some sort. She had an air about her I had not seen in Mozambique just yet - resignation.
I asked her if the people who come to rehearse had arrived and she said that they hadn't.
I went around to the front to poke around a bit and found an open door. Inside, all the earmarks of a living, breathing theatre were present, but the ghosts of 25 years hung heavy. Tiles were not surprisingly missing from the floor and walls, doors were absent and graffiti decorated the remaining white walls.
Still, it was in usable shape and I had heard around town that events go on every so often at the "clube".
I stepped back outside, meaning to wait for everyone else. Not finding necessary shade on the front step, I sat under a nearby tree. Soon, some neighborhood kids I know came over to chat and show me their fishing rod. Little by little, I accumulated about a dozen kids, about 12 years old at most.
They spoke mainly Changana, so I got a very fun and spirited 45-minute lesson. We traded silly walks, exercises, wall-climbing techniques and language. All in all, I've never laughed so hard in my life around pre-teens.
After I realized the rehearsal was not to be, I headed back not disappointed but feeling rather fulfilled.
Peace
John
3/22/2003
My biggest pet peeve by far is unadulterated hypocrisy. Especially when it's staring you in the face - and I see it all around me.
It isn't acting when you change yourself to change what people see and hear. It is acting when you convince other people that you've done that. This comes up all the time for me, because my teaching persona is completely different than my out-of-class personality. And the kids can tell I'm acting - so maybe I'm not acting at all!
I had a bizarre urge to get a "Clapper" - one of those devices to turn an appliance on and off by clapping. Not that I could find one here, or that I'd ever need one...
Peace
John
It isn't acting when you change yourself to change what people see and hear. It is acting when you convince other people that you've done that. This comes up all the time for me, because my teaching persona is completely different than my out-of-class personality. And the kids can tell I'm acting - so maybe I'm not acting at all!
I had a bizarre urge to get a "Clapper" - one of those devices to turn an appliance on and off by clapping. Not that I could find one here, or that I'd ever need one...
Peace
John
3/21/2003
I spoke with one of the women who takes care of the attendance books at school, who was sick with a cold. I mentioned that she should make sure she's drinking water and eating oranges (which are in season and cost about .10 each) and she said she couldn't afford to buy any. And she's not one to exaggerate these types of things.
That was yesterday. Today I went to the ATM at my bank, and as the machine was automatically dispensing 1 million Meticals (about $42), the polarity of these two situations was jarring.
Ellen sent me a great quote:
"If we all did the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves."
Thomas Edison
This has been highly motivating for me, mainly because it puts into words how I feel about what I can accomplish here in Mozambique. And it's really quite overwhelming what I can accomplish because of what I'm used to having to do to get anything done in the States. If you want to educate people on taking care of their personal health (e.g., HIV/AIDS) in the States, you have to convince them that they should be concerned about what you're presenting and also give them information they've never heard before. You have to vary the methods of presentation so you don't bore people. You can't give simple answers to complex problems without fully explaining yourself.
The fact that you CLAIM to have definitive information here and are willing to share it is enough to hold the attention of a fairly large crowd for a long time. All of a sudden, the obstacles you had in the States are gone and the smokescreen this rapid disintegration creates makes you believe it'll be REALLY EASY.
So you teach the material that you were prepared to sugarcoat, and feel great about the fact that the students are well-educated now.
But after a while, you realize they didn't really grasp what you had said. They know the words you said, but they don't understand how it's applied. They know condoms prevent the spread of HIV, but they don't understand that if you don't want to get infected, you have to use a condom.
It's this educator's plight - the gap between knowledge and understanding - that's so crucial to a school system or of any curriculum, be it HIV/AIDS or Biology. And if the educator doesn't see the difference, how will the students?
Unintentionally, this may be my biggest and quietest legacy here: changing the way a handful of students approach learning. Even though I'm making a concerted effort to have them understand instead of parrot, it's still the students who take it upon themselves to change their learning style or the students who have already developed this skill who will thrive in my classes.
And the teachers who try so hard but get stuck teaching the same old shit every year, because they know no other way, may in fact become infected by this same bug. If I can just "guest teach" one physics lesson, substitute an English class, watch a chemistry lesson and give constructive feedback afterwards, or just go over a lesson plan with another teacher, I know I can open a whole world of opportunity if they're ready and willing to see it. I can't cultivate the passion for this, but I can at least introduce them to another educational pathway.
And so, even in this established institution, there are a billion things I can do. Is it too overwhelming? Not yet. I know that every little bit helps, so even a half-assed effort is appreciated. Not that I would approach doing something half-assedly.
But really I know I'm capable of so much, so where do I begin?
Peace
John
That was yesterday. Today I went to the ATM at my bank, and as the machine was automatically dispensing 1 million Meticals (about $42), the polarity of these two situations was jarring.
Ellen sent me a great quote:
"If we all did the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves."
Thomas Edison
This has been highly motivating for me, mainly because it puts into words how I feel about what I can accomplish here in Mozambique. And it's really quite overwhelming what I can accomplish because of what I'm used to having to do to get anything done in the States. If you want to educate people on taking care of their personal health (e.g., HIV/AIDS) in the States, you have to convince them that they should be concerned about what you're presenting and also give them information they've never heard before. You have to vary the methods of presentation so you don't bore people. You can't give simple answers to complex problems without fully explaining yourself.
The fact that you CLAIM to have definitive information here and are willing to share it is enough to hold the attention of a fairly large crowd for a long time. All of a sudden, the obstacles you had in the States are gone and the smokescreen this rapid disintegration creates makes you believe it'll be REALLY EASY.
So you teach the material that you were prepared to sugarcoat, and feel great about the fact that the students are well-educated now.
But after a while, you realize they didn't really grasp what you had said. They know the words you said, but they don't understand how it's applied. They know condoms prevent the spread of HIV, but they don't understand that if you don't want to get infected, you have to use a condom.
It's this educator's plight - the gap between knowledge and understanding - that's so crucial to a school system or of any curriculum, be it HIV/AIDS or Biology. And if the educator doesn't see the difference, how will the students?
Unintentionally, this may be my biggest and quietest legacy here: changing the way a handful of students approach learning. Even though I'm making a concerted effort to have them understand instead of parrot, it's still the students who take it upon themselves to change their learning style or the students who have already developed this skill who will thrive in my classes.
And the teachers who try so hard but get stuck teaching the same old shit every year, because they know no other way, may in fact become infected by this same bug. If I can just "guest teach" one physics lesson, substitute an English class, watch a chemistry lesson and give constructive feedback afterwards, or just go over a lesson plan with another teacher, I know I can open a whole world of opportunity if they're ready and willing to see it. I can't cultivate the passion for this, but I can at least introduce them to another educational pathway.
And so, even in this established institution, there are a billion things I can do. Is it too overwhelming? Not yet. I know that every little bit helps, so even a half-assed effort is appreciated. Not that I would approach doing something half-assedly.
But really I know I'm capable of so much, so where do I begin?
Peace
John
3/20/2003
War started today.
Here I thought it wouldn't affect life, but I have been talking about it all day. Of course I don't know all the right vocabulary, but I'm working on learning "hate", "soldier", "evil" and "dictator". I'm not allowed to say in this journal what context those refer to, but needless to say, I'm learning these words quickly.
I was in the tailor's "office" - a mud hut with bare electricity-carrying wires, a pedal-powered sewing machine and the barest of materials like thread, scissors and grease for the sewing machine - listening to the battery-powered radio blaring Mozambican Portuguese which I could only partially understand, and the tailor asked me about what I thought concerning the war.
I went to the central, partially indoor market where Dona Maria faithfully provides us with gifts of bananas every time we go to her stand, and told her about what had happened today. She reacted very solemnly, giving way her calm exterior in favor of rarely-seen fear. I continued to explain while trying to figure this reaction out. Most people here don't feel personally affected because it's so far away and they've had much more destructive wars here just a decade ago. I realized she has a son in America and felt that he was in danger. I reassured her that the war was happening in Iraq, to little alleviation of her emotions. I told her that people in America are quite safe, but I wasn't quite sure of that myself - maybe that translated.
Then I went to school. My first turma asked me at the beginning of class what was going on with the war. So I started to tell them, but they just laughed. This got me pretty angry, mainly because I don't understand why it's funny but moreso because they simply can't take me seriously at all and have very little respect (or at least show very little).
So I said that I wasn't going to say any more about it because of their behavior, but then it occurred to me how ridiculously insensitive they were being, not even treating me as a simple normal human being. So I mentioned how many of their friends died in the wars here, and made the point that they could understand how I feel about my friends and the people of Iraq - but still laughter prevailed.
So I sat down in silence. After a couple minutes, they asked me to start the lesson, and I said I didn't want to. I realized at that point that I had enough breathing room with this turma to not give the lesson and still finish the curriculum this trimester. So I sat, very sad and frustrated, for the remainder of the 45 minutes. The students, silently, stared at me and then some started to work for other classes. By the time the bell rang, the silence was stifling. I told them they had their interval (between classes) and they slowly got up.
During the second part of the dupla (two lessons for the same class), I gave a review of how to study for tests and of some of the information I gave. They were so somber it was actually difficult to teach. But it was obvious they learned their lesson and almost 40 minutes of silence is a pretty big deal. The truth is, there was just no other form of discipline I could think of that would work.
After that intensity, I took a break - I could have taught another class early, but didn't feel like it. Afterwards, when I came back, I arrived at my next dupla early. And my favorite group, not coincidentally.
I didn't even get to sit down before they were pegging me with tons of questions. "Do you pray?" "Do you go to church?" "How many wives do you have?" About a dozen students were crowded around me tightly so as not to miss a word, hanging on my responses and laughing hard as the cultural barriers were revealed to be as plain as the (very large) nose on my face. I was having a wonderful time, too, as they were trying to practice their English...trying. But they love to learn and love to be corrected as they're always correcting my Portuguese.
This set a wonderful tone for class, and I gave a very productive and fun lesson. All the kids were (at some point) interested, which is really quite rare. But there's no way I can do that with every turma.
Afterwards, I had a nice long conversation about war with the chefe of that last turma, rudely interrupted by my final class of the day.
And at my Changana lesson tonight, we had a small discussion about our views of war, before starting.
All in all, people are not completely aware that this war isn't happening in America as well - war here means domestic war, so explaining that the people in the US aren't at risk is hard.
Peace
John
Here I thought it wouldn't affect life, but I have been talking about it all day. Of course I don't know all the right vocabulary, but I'm working on learning "hate", "soldier", "evil" and "dictator". I'm not allowed to say in this journal what context those refer to, but needless to say, I'm learning these words quickly.
I was in the tailor's "office" - a mud hut with bare electricity-carrying wires, a pedal-powered sewing machine and the barest of materials like thread, scissors and grease for the sewing machine - listening to the battery-powered radio blaring Mozambican Portuguese which I could only partially understand, and the tailor asked me about what I thought concerning the war.
I went to the central, partially indoor market where Dona Maria faithfully provides us with gifts of bananas every time we go to her stand, and told her about what had happened today. She reacted very solemnly, giving way her calm exterior in favor of rarely-seen fear. I continued to explain while trying to figure this reaction out. Most people here don't feel personally affected because it's so far away and they've had much more destructive wars here just a decade ago. I realized she has a son in America and felt that he was in danger. I reassured her that the war was happening in Iraq, to little alleviation of her emotions. I told her that people in America are quite safe, but I wasn't quite sure of that myself - maybe that translated.
Then I went to school. My first turma asked me at the beginning of class what was going on with the war. So I started to tell them, but they just laughed. This got me pretty angry, mainly because I don't understand why it's funny but moreso because they simply can't take me seriously at all and have very little respect (or at least show very little).
So I said that I wasn't going to say any more about it because of their behavior, but then it occurred to me how ridiculously insensitive they were being, not even treating me as a simple normal human being. So I mentioned how many of their friends died in the wars here, and made the point that they could understand how I feel about my friends and the people of Iraq - but still laughter prevailed.
So I sat down in silence. After a couple minutes, they asked me to start the lesson, and I said I didn't want to. I realized at that point that I had enough breathing room with this turma to not give the lesson and still finish the curriculum this trimester. So I sat, very sad and frustrated, for the remainder of the 45 minutes. The students, silently, stared at me and then some started to work for other classes. By the time the bell rang, the silence was stifling. I told them they had their interval (between classes) and they slowly got up.
During the second part of the dupla (two lessons for the same class), I gave a review of how to study for tests and of some of the information I gave. They were so somber it was actually difficult to teach. But it was obvious they learned their lesson and almost 40 minutes of silence is a pretty big deal. The truth is, there was just no other form of discipline I could think of that would work.
After that intensity, I took a break - I could have taught another class early, but didn't feel like it. Afterwards, when I came back, I arrived at my next dupla early. And my favorite group, not coincidentally.
I didn't even get to sit down before they were pegging me with tons of questions. "Do you pray?" "Do you go to church?" "How many wives do you have?" About a dozen students were crowded around me tightly so as not to miss a word, hanging on my responses and laughing hard as the cultural barriers were revealed to be as plain as the (very large) nose on my face. I was having a wonderful time, too, as they were trying to practice their English...trying. But they love to learn and love to be corrected as they're always correcting my Portuguese.
This set a wonderful tone for class, and I gave a very productive and fun lesson. All the kids were (at some point) interested, which is really quite rare. But there's no way I can do that with every turma.
Afterwards, I had a nice long conversation about war with the chefe of that last turma, rudely interrupted by my final class of the day.
And at my Changana lesson tonight, we had a small discussion about our views of war, before starting.
All in all, people are not completely aware that this war isn't happening in America as well - war here means domestic war, so explaining that the people in the US aren't at risk is hard.
Peace
John
3/19/2003
For some reason, I keep flashing back to a supermarket in rural Ohio that I was at in my last days there. I think it's a sanitary smell of carefully selected produce, somehow stuck in my nose. But all I know is that my mind flash-forwards to the last night I spent with someone I miss very much, and wonder why I gave all that up.
And then I think of the dark bowling alley where my fraternity surprised me by showing up en masse as a going-away celebration of a sort. It was the only surprise party I've ever had thrown for me, and I almost ruined it by over-planning my last weekend in Cleveland.
And I jump to saying goodbye to Eric and others in the fraternity whom I miss very much - leaning out the rental car window which was packed to the gills, just to get one last glimpse.
And of course saying goodbye to my parents when they dropped me off in Philadelphia, more aware of the experience I was in for than I could have ever been.
All these goodbyes produce a lot of anxieties in me, even now, because I wonder how much I will change and how much they will change - and then will I have to start over?
There's so much that I miss about the States that I'm willing to give up - but it hurts to do so.
Of course, there are things I don't miss.
But when I have to kick 60 out of my 400 kids out for cheating on the latest round of tests, and they leave laughing. I am utterly confused. Do I miss the American system - where cheaters are punished thoroughly (if caught) but students are so competitive that it can be downright ridiculous? Or is it actually healthy the way people laugh everything off? Maybe they realize formalized education isn't their thing - or maybe they think the system here is a joke and I'm taking it way too seriously.
Whatever it is, I'm beginning to learn how to deal with my missing things and people by finding things here and people here to appreciate - without trying to replace things or people in my "old" life. I don't think anyone here could replace my loved ones - and nobody back home could ever be the friends I have here.
I suppose maybe I'm looking for a balance - if I can be as happy with the people I'm close to here as I miss people back home, then I've reached a good balance.
My kids asked me about war today.
All I could say is that I don't like it.
Peace
John
And then I think of the dark bowling alley where my fraternity surprised me by showing up en masse as a going-away celebration of a sort. It was the only surprise party I've ever had thrown for me, and I almost ruined it by over-planning my last weekend in Cleveland.
And I jump to saying goodbye to Eric and others in the fraternity whom I miss very much - leaning out the rental car window which was packed to the gills, just to get one last glimpse.
And of course saying goodbye to my parents when they dropped me off in Philadelphia, more aware of the experience I was in for than I could have ever been.
All these goodbyes produce a lot of anxieties in me, even now, because I wonder how much I will change and how much they will change - and then will I have to start over?
There's so much that I miss about the States that I'm willing to give up - but it hurts to do so.
Of course, there are things I don't miss.
But when I have to kick 60 out of my 400 kids out for cheating on the latest round of tests, and they leave laughing. I am utterly confused. Do I miss the American system - where cheaters are punished thoroughly (if caught) but students are so competitive that it can be downright ridiculous? Or is it actually healthy the way people laugh everything off? Maybe they realize formalized education isn't their thing - or maybe they think the system here is a joke and I'm taking it way too seriously.
Whatever it is, I'm beginning to learn how to deal with my missing things and people by finding things here and people here to appreciate - without trying to replace things or people in my "old" life. I don't think anyone here could replace my loved ones - and nobody back home could ever be the friends I have here.
I suppose maybe I'm looking for a balance - if I can be as happy with the people I'm close to here as I miss people back home, then I've reached a good balance.
My kids asked me about war today.
All I could say is that I don't like it.
Peace
John
3/17/2003
Man, people love stickers here. Even before I explained what they meant, people were asking for St. Patrick's Day stickers from me. Maybe I oughta get some stickers that say "Peace".
I wanted to adopt a kitten today. Cats are pretty rarely domesticated here, usually only when they need to be mousetraps. Such is the case of the tailor I often visit. His mother cat had a litter about a month ago and the 5 kittens are adorable, playing all the time while Mom "prepares" dinner. Oh, well.
I've decided that the kids here are like velociraptors, in the "Jurassic Park" sense - they're always testing you for weaknesses. It's often nerve-wracking, but nonetheless interesting.
Peace
John
I wanted to adopt a kitten today. Cats are pretty rarely domesticated here, usually only when they need to be mousetraps. Such is the case of the tailor I often visit. His mother cat had a litter about a month ago and the 5 kittens are adorable, playing all the time while Mom "prepares" dinner. Oh, well.
I've decided that the kids here are like velociraptors, in the "Jurassic Park" sense - they're always testing you for weaknesses. It's often nerve-wracking, but nonetheless interesting.
Peace
John
3/16/2003
Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day and possibly the first day of a new war.
I got a lot done today that I've needed to do for a while, with the house to myself. Paperwork and such, nothing exciting.
About the most riveting thing that happened was checking out the level of ink in my pen - almost gone. I've never used up a pen entirely before losing it. I know this seems like a ridiculous milestone, but it just goes to show how important the simplest things are here.
In working on the HIV/AIDS curriculum, there are a lot of tough decisions to make. In the last few years, scientists have begun to agree that HIV was born in Africa. But saying that HIV started here, went to America where it killed hundreds of thousands (and continues to, but has been contained), then an outbreak in Africa happened after Africa repulsed colonial powers, is very hard to get people to believe. Preaching this version of "out of Africa" doesn't help your credibility as a source of information and can create hostility.
So saying that scientists aren't sure - which is true of ANY theory - is true (yet mildly deceptive) and safe. Maybe when the pandemic has subsided, we'll know for sure - but it's really inconsequential right now.
Peace
John
I got a lot done today that I've needed to do for a while, with the house to myself. Paperwork and such, nothing exciting.
About the most riveting thing that happened was checking out the level of ink in my pen - almost gone. I've never used up a pen entirely before losing it. I know this seems like a ridiculous milestone, but it just goes to show how important the simplest things are here.
In working on the HIV/AIDS curriculum, there are a lot of tough decisions to make. In the last few years, scientists have begun to agree that HIV was born in Africa. But saying that HIV started here, went to America where it killed hundreds of thousands (and continues to, but has been contained), then an outbreak in Africa happened after Africa repulsed colonial powers, is very hard to get people to believe. Preaching this version of "out of Africa" doesn't help your credibility as a source of information and can create hostility.
So saying that scientists aren't sure - which is true of ANY theory - is true (yet mildly deceptive) and safe. Maybe when the pandemic has subsided, we'll know for sure - but it's really inconsequential right now.
Peace
John
Thursday, April 24, 2003
3/2/2003
Today, Bert came around a couple times and knocked just a few minutes ago to which I didn't respond. Why? He's freaking me out.
He came over in the afternoon, looking to hang out or something, and so we let him in, but then had to go shopping (we really needed to). He naturally went with us, guiding us through the "dangerous" mud with our "inadequate" boots. He then came back home with us, and as I had to leave and Blake didn't want to be alone with him, we tried to say goodbye before we entered. He then asked if he could wash his face - how could we refuse? But he ended up trying to camp out again, so we told him he had to go home, and did after much prodding. I just don't know what to do about the whole thing because there's nowhere for him to go and honestly, the environment we provide is the best one for him. It's safe, clean, has plenty of books and other stimulation, and we have a decent handle on what to do in an emergency.
But we're not a hospital, and we can't afford to be babysitters. This will have some sort of resolution soon, or so we hope.
It's been raining a bunch lately, which is much needed and an excellent sign that the rainy season will come, albeit late and shortened. However, the storm that started all of this forced the evacuation of several volunteers and I'll probably find out soon if anything happened to their houses. Hopefully everything's OK, but it sounded like one heck of a storm. And now laundry's a pain in the ass. But I'm willing to turn underwear inside out if a few more people can afford dinner. (THIS IS MOM -- I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT LAST SENTENCE MEANS....)
Peace
John
He came over in the afternoon, looking to hang out or something, and so we let him in, but then had to go shopping (we really needed to). He naturally went with us, guiding us through the "dangerous" mud with our "inadequate" boots. He then came back home with us, and as I had to leave and Blake didn't want to be alone with him, we tried to say goodbye before we entered. He then asked if he could wash his face - how could we refuse? But he ended up trying to camp out again, so we told him he had to go home, and did after much prodding. I just don't know what to do about the whole thing because there's nowhere for him to go and honestly, the environment we provide is the best one for him. It's safe, clean, has plenty of books and other stimulation, and we have a decent handle on what to do in an emergency.
But we're not a hospital, and we can't afford to be babysitters. This will have some sort of resolution soon, or so we hope.
It's been raining a bunch lately, which is much needed and an excellent sign that the rainy season will come, albeit late and shortened. However, the storm that started all of this forced the evacuation of several volunteers and I'll probably find out soon if anything happened to their houses. Hopefully everything's OK, but it sounded like one heck of a storm. And now laundry's a pain in the ass. But I'm willing to turn underwear inside out if a few more people can afford dinner. (THIS IS MOM -- I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT LAST SENTENCE MEANS....)
Peace
John
3/1/2003
Wow. It's March. Next month, we have our first in-service training. And in two weeks, my "first three months" of hell officially ends. It's not that I expect things to immediately turn around with discipline, respect, etc., but I hope to have more reactions like when, today, my name was carved into the dirt in front of school. This doesn't happen. But there it was, and I don't know why or if it's a good or bad thing, but there I left it. It was easily 8 feet across, so as to be noticed by, well, me. I should have taken a picture!
Given how things are going, and that I started off the year being strict, only smiling in class on the very rare occasion, I'm still trying to find the balance - and possibly a whole new way of thinking - between discipline and my own sanity. If what happened yesterday continues, I don't know how I can teach. I can't discipline everyone all the time, and I can't simply dole out discipline or it will lose its effect. And I doubt the kids will get easier to deal with.
Friday was definitely a breaking point, but Laurenco thought that some fires he helped me extinguish were put out for good. And they aren't.
Trying to give my ACS Tuesday, all I needed to do was uncover the questions, but when I did, there was a chorus of girls screaming, which stopped as soon as I turned around. I warned them that they were losing time, to no avail. Finally, I gave up, saying that they all just received a 0. They protested afterwards, but at the time, showed no remorse.
Of course, things were worse with the downright festive atmosphere Friday after the announcement of receiving a 0. It was a small pleasure to see that turma working in the fields today, just to know that will be in the back of their minds for a while. But is this plague of undiscipline normal? Is it something I can deal with?
I think, more importantly, the problem of cheating that I've already started to address is being pushed up on by other teachers. I think I might start offering to proctor (or help proctor) other ACSs in 9th grade to drive home the point. But, for sure, I'm going to stop offering my "-5" warning for cheating that I see and simply kick kids out of the ACS. Now they know I can see a lot more than they think I can, they're either going to study or try different ways of cheating.
I'm going to start checking their hands for writing (I kicked one kid out for this) and also do the "cabular" shift. Since every desk has two seats, and I can't assign seating for 50 kids, I'll simply shift the kids or switch the kids they're sitting next to. In a lot of cases, when I saw cheating for this ACS, it was a weaker student paired with a stronger student or two equal students with very little middle ground. And the more they anticipate me doing, the more likely it is they'll study.
Peace
John
Given how things are going, and that I started off the year being strict, only smiling in class on the very rare occasion, I'm still trying to find the balance - and possibly a whole new way of thinking - between discipline and my own sanity. If what happened yesterday continues, I don't know how I can teach. I can't discipline everyone all the time, and I can't simply dole out discipline or it will lose its effect. And I doubt the kids will get easier to deal with.
Friday was definitely a breaking point, but Laurenco thought that some fires he helped me extinguish were put out for good. And they aren't.
Trying to give my ACS Tuesday, all I needed to do was uncover the questions, but when I did, there was a chorus of girls screaming, which stopped as soon as I turned around. I warned them that they were losing time, to no avail. Finally, I gave up, saying that they all just received a 0. They protested afterwards, but at the time, showed no remorse.
Of course, things were worse with the downright festive atmosphere Friday after the announcement of receiving a 0. It was a small pleasure to see that turma working in the fields today, just to know that will be in the back of their minds for a while. But is this plague of undiscipline normal? Is it something I can deal with?
I think, more importantly, the problem of cheating that I've already started to address is being pushed up on by other teachers. I think I might start offering to proctor (or help proctor) other ACSs in 9th grade to drive home the point. But, for sure, I'm going to stop offering my "-5" warning for cheating that I see and simply kick kids out of the ACS. Now they know I can see a lot more than they think I can, they're either going to study or try different ways of cheating.
I'm going to start checking their hands for writing (I kicked one kid out for this) and also do the "cabular" shift. Since every desk has two seats, and I can't assign seating for 50 kids, I'll simply shift the kids or switch the kids they're sitting next to. In a lot of cases, when I saw cheating for this ACS, it was a weaker student paired with a stronger student or two equal students with very little middle ground. And the more they anticipate me doing, the more likely it is they'll study.
Peace
John
2/28/2003
I sat down, exasperated, at about 11 PM tonight in the first chair I could find. Blake locked up and we laughed - out of exhaustion. I sat in the same position for a while, desperately trying to put the day in some sort of box which it didn't want to fit into. I'm finding more and more of these days every week. Isn't time supposed to make the strange, normal? And routine? So why does this morning seem like it was forever and a day ago?
Maybe when Bert said he couldn't remember what he did yesterday, because he was confused, this was what he was talking about. But then again, I'm not a schizophrenic and he is.
But I'm getting ahead of myself again.
Maybe I started losing the sense of routine sitting in the secretary's office waiting for a secretary who would not show up today, to tal about the electricity bill. Men in an important-looking car came by yesterday saying that they wanted to cut our power. My school was supposed to pay the bill but didn't. And so I got up early to wait, ended up talking to my director, who said he didn't know about the situation but would talk with the very same secretaries about it.
Maybe it started when I was walking home from the store and received a comment on my food purchases which lay behind a thin plastic veil and were obviously of public concern.
Maybe it was when I found Bert waiting for me at my house. The brother of my Changana tutor, he has been in and out of mental hospitals and on and off medication. He wanted to learn some English, but I don't like to be alone with him as he has violent episodes - or so we've heard.
Maybe it was explaining bacteria and viruses to a former student of Tober's in Portuguese and with two cups, a length of string and a set of keys. He seemed to understand, amazingly enough.
Most likely, it had something to do with trying to give an ACS to one turma while another turma batted the windows and yelled inside the room through the windows after me - while smacking adjoining walls and taking down the questions that I had posed to the current class.
But probably it has more to do with the reaming (verbally) those students got from Laurenco. Making everyone stand up, one by one, he asked the rest of the class to say who were the provokers of this noise and lack of discipline. He made at least one girl cry. Tomorrow, they will be working in the school fields at 7 AM as punishment. The entire turma.
But above all, taking a walk with Bert and Blake to get Bert back home safely, and then realizing we were completely lost with this semi-acquaintance who had started talking to himself. So we arrived back at home with him, where we had started. Now who needed help?
So after I figured that out, I got up to write and then go to bed. And maybe tomorrow I won't be so confused about today.
Peace
John
Maybe when Bert said he couldn't remember what he did yesterday, because he was confused, this was what he was talking about. But then again, I'm not a schizophrenic and he is.
But I'm getting ahead of myself again.
Maybe I started losing the sense of routine sitting in the secretary's office waiting for a secretary who would not show up today, to tal about the electricity bill. Men in an important-looking car came by yesterday saying that they wanted to cut our power. My school was supposed to pay the bill but didn't. And so I got up early to wait, ended up talking to my director, who said he didn't know about the situation but would talk with the very same secretaries about it.
Maybe it started when I was walking home from the store and received a comment on my food purchases which lay behind a thin plastic veil and were obviously of public concern.
Maybe it was when I found Bert waiting for me at my house. The brother of my Changana tutor, he has been in and out of mental hospitals and on and off medication. He wanted to learn some English, but I don't like to be alone with him as he has violent episodes - or so we've heard.
Maybe it was explaining bacteria and viruses to a former student of Tober's in Portuguese and with two cups, a length of string and a set of keys. He seemed to understand, amazingly enough.
Most likely, it had something to do with trying to give an ACS to one turma while another turma batted the windows and yelled inside the room through the windows after me - while smacking adjoining walls and taking down the questions that I had posed to the current class.
But probably it has more to do with the reaming (verbally) those students got from Laurenco. Making everyone stand up, one by one, he asked the rest of the class to say who were the provokers of this noise and lack of discipline. He made at least one girl cry. Tomorrow, they will be working in the school fields at 7 AM as punishment. The entire turma.
But above all, taking a walk with Bert and Blake to get Bert back home safely, and then realizing we were completely lost with this semi-acquaintance who had started talking to himself. So we arrived back at home with him, where we had started. Now who needed help?
So after I figured that out, I got up to write and then go to bed. And maybe tomorrow I won't be so confused about today.
Peace
John
2/27/2003
So I've always had this tendency to listen to HOW people are saying something, and not to WHAT they are saying. It often takes a concerted effort to stop "listening" to body language and what's going on around me and simply listen to the conversation. I guess I've found a way to coexist on both levels, but it slows down the language learning process a bit.
Learning Changana is quite fun, because it's SO different that I can start from a clean slate and practice with most anyone.
I'm realizing that the levels of my classes are sufficiently different that I might end up failing 75% of one turma and about 15% of another. It makes sense, though, because lessons can be tailored to the level of the class. But it's still a bit awkward.
I love getting and sending letters. So if I send you a letter and you haven't responded yet - shame on you.
I also love writing scatter-brained entries.
Laurenco and I talked to a turma I was having trouble with, especially with the ACS. He went into them, saying how cheating is not to be tolerated and how I'm still having some difficulties with the language, but they need to realize it works both ways - they need to help me as I do them. He also make the kid I gave the red falta to to stand up and justify why he got it. He basically lied in front of me, and a classmate of his (who I'm not a big fan of - she's a little snot) stood up and said what really happened. Oh well.
It's almost March. Tomorrow marks, more or less, 5 months to the day from when I left home for Peace Corps. Yeah, I'm reaching for milestones.
But when you miss people back home as much as I do now - milestones are pretty big.
Peace
John
Learning Changana is quite fun, because it's SO different that I can start from a clean slate and practice with most anyone.
I'm realizing that the levels of my classes are sufficiently different that I might end up failing 75% of one turma and about 15% of another. It makes sense, though, because lessons can be tailored to the level of the class. But it's still a bit awkward.
I love getting and sending letters. So if I send you a letter and you haven't responded yet - shame on you.
I also love writing scatter-brained entries.
Laurenco and I talked to a turma I was having trouble with, especially with the ACS. He went into them, saying how cheating is not to be tolerated and how I'm still having some difficulties with the language, but they need to realize it works both ways - they need to help me as I do them. He also make the kid I gave the red falta to to stand up and justify why he got it. He basically lied in front of me, and a classmate of his (who I'm not a big fan of - she's a little snot) stood up and said what really happened. Oh well.
It's almost March. Tomorrow marks, more or less, 5 months to the day from when I left home for Peace Corps. Yeah, I'm reaching for milestones.
But when you miss people back home as much as I do now - milestones are pretty big.
Peace
John
2/26/2003
(OK EVERYBODY - ANOTHER MISSING PIECE HAS CAUGHT UP TO ME. HERE'S AN OLDIE, TO BE FOLLOWED BY SOME NEW STUFF. MOM)
When I give a quiz, here's the process. I tell all the students to leave any extraneous material in the front of the class and use only two pens and bring a new piece of paper. I then dismiss them for a couple of minutes, put up the questions and check to make sure everything has been accounted for by their desks.
I then allow them to enter, collecting each piece of paper as they enter. I have them maintain silence during this time (or try to at least) and I redistribute the papers. This is because they sometimes write answers on the papers they're going to use, either plainly or faintly so that only a trained eye can see it. And since I can't supply paper for everyone, it has to happen this way. Then, I uncover and explain the questions.
And when I see talking or looking at another's paper, I mark 5 points off for the participants. As tests here are only scored out of 20, 5 points is huge. If I see it again, I throw them out. Through three tests, I've thrown out about 12-15 kids.
If they are using a cheat sheet, a notebook, or really anything else, I will throw them out immediately. This happens fairly often as well.
And because there's almost always another student at the same desk, I don't notice most of the cheating while it's happening. But I DO notice it after I collect the tests.
When I collect, I fold one test inside another for every desk so I can keep track of who was sitting where, because they are most likely to cheat with their neighbor. After I have everything graded, I check the similarities. Depending on the turma, about 50% (in many cases AT LEAST 50%) of the students have some evidence of having cheated - I threw them out, gave them minus 5, or answers are identically incorrect. But since I can't give a 0 to all of them, I mark down when they have a decent grade, and mark down depending on how pervasive the cheating was.
Next time, I'm going to do a group test.
Peace
John
When I give a quiz, here's the process. I tell all the students to leave any extraneous material in the front of the class and use only two pens and bring a new piece of paper. I then dismiss them for a couple of minutes, put up the questions and check to make sure everything has been accounted for by their desks.
I then allow them to enter, collecting each piece of paper as they enter. I have them maintain silence during this time (or try to at least) and I redistribute the papers. This is because they sometimes write answers on the papers they're going to use, either plainly or faintly so that only a trained eye can see it. And since I can't supply paper for everyone, it has to happen this way. Then, I uncover and explain the questions.
And when I see talking or looking at another's paper, I mark 5 points off for the participants. As tests here are only scored out of 20, 5 points is huge. If I see it again, I throw them out. Through three tests, I've thrown out about 12-15 kids.
If they are using a cheat sheet, a notebook, or really anything else, I will throw them out immediately. This happens fairly often as well.
And because there's almost always another student at the same desk, I don't notice most of the cheating while it's happening. But I DO notice it after I collect the tests.
When I collect, I fold one test inside another for every desk so I can keep track of who was sitting where, because they are most likely to cheat with their neighbor. After I have everything graded, I check the similarities. Depending on the turma, about 50% (in many cases AT LEAST 50%) of the students have some evidence of having cheated - I threw them out, gave them minus 5, or answers are identically incorrect. But since I can't give a 0 to all of them, I mark down when they have a decent grade, and mark down depending on how pervasive the cheating was.
Next time, I'm going to do a group test.
Peace
John
Sunday, April 20, 2003
3/11/2003
It's been getting temperate here lately. I hate to use the word cold because that might evoke images of actual cost as most of the rest of the world knows it. I mean cold like below 70 degrees F. It's downright nippy.
I talked with Laurenco today about teaching HIV/AIDS info in and outside the classroom. He was not only pleased, but was wanting to contribute ideas! Why? Well, there's a grant being offered by the government for HIV/AIDS education, and he wants to say that we're doing something.
And I found out that a great organization, GATV, is in my town as well. They do HIV testing and counseling and are generally great advocates to have around.
So I drew up a rough plan for a semester-long session of HIV/AIDS education. Not only is it comprehensive, but I finished it quite quickly because all of these ideas have been floating around in my head for a while. To see them on paper and know that they could very well end up s actual sessions that students and the community at large attends is pretty powerful.
I guess I'm holding my breath because we don't even talk about secondary projects until July - so if I'm pursuing one already, is it destined to fail because I don't have enough experience? Or is it just because I've gotten lucky to find myself in this position? Here's hoping it's the latter, because I'm getting pretty excited.
Peace
John
I talked with Laurenco today about teaching HIV/AIDS info in and outside the classroom. He was not only pleased, but was wanting to contribute ideas! Why? Well, there's a grant being offered by the government for HIV/AIDS education, and he wants to say that we're doing something.
And I found out that a great organization, GATV, is in my town as well. They do HIV testing and counseling and are generally great advocates to have around.
So I drew up a rough plan for a semester-long session of HIV/AIDS education. Not only is it comprehensive, but I finished it quite quickly because all of these ideas have been floating around in my head for a while. To see them on paper and know that they could very well end up s actual sessions that students and the community at large attends is pretty powerful.
I guess I'm holding my breath because we don't even talk about secondary projects until July - so if I'm pursuing one already, is it destined to fail because I don't have enough experience? Or is it just because I've gotten lucky to find myself in this position? Here's hoping it's the latter, because I'm getting pretty excited.
Peace
John
3/10/2003
I had a downright, honest-to-goodness, full-quality, good day today.
Well, it wasn't spectacular, but it's been a while.
I woke up at 6 AM to work out, accomplished that, did some laundry in the relatively cool morning air while talking to some neighborhood kids, made some breakfast and then headed out to the field at 8 to see if I could get some morning Ultimate going.
The kids who said they'd be there were at school. I found that out from some younger kids who came running up to me with huge smiles on their faces and were very willing to try and grab the frisbees out of my hand. In their limited Portuguese, they managed to communicate that the kids weren't playing today, and I told them to relay the message that I'd be at home if they happened to show up.
As this was going on, I was taking note of a tiny puppy scavenging around for food. It's paws dark from digging through the mud and trash for nourishment, its obliviousness to us humans pulled on my heart - but what could I do? I knew it had a slim chance of surviving on its own, not to mention the abuse it would inevitably suffer from kids and many adults alike. I let it occupy some part of me that longs to show uninhibited compassion for all living things, and left it at that. For if I wrapped my world around every animal that was in its situation, I'd have a difficult time walking along the streets, seeing children who will most likely die within a couple of years. Not that it's not difficult.
So really, you have to celebrate life and realize that a moment is so much more precious here than in countries where life is less fragile.
I did some internetting, and got ready for school so I could go early and type up a paper on the computer (!) we have. When I arrived, the head secretary was in the midst of a typical computer problem, and I quickly remedied the situation out of routine.
My first two classes went off without a hitch, rattling off the Portuguese with surprising ease for a Monday. My mood was vastly improved and I have been actively relaxing through meditation and focusing on the task at hand without being intense about it.
My hardest transition, going from the youngest turma to the oldest (at about twice the youngest's age), was tempered by my newly-found inner peace and satisfaction that I'm actually doing something for people here.
Kids keep coming up to me with HIV/AIDS questions - good questions - and seem to understand and be satisfied with a realistic look at the truth. And they take this to heart as much as I do...which is fantastic. It almost seems like everybody was so concerned about letting everyone know AIDS exists and kills people, and making sure everyone has cheap condoms, that they forgot about teaching how it kills, where it came from, and how to use a condom. I find myself repeatedly (and enthusiastically) answering some basic questions.
So the next couple steps are to create a forum for free education about HIV/AIDS and a school club for kids who want to educate the community at large. And then integrating the Ultimate playing and theater/singing groups into this. So quite suddenly, two years is looking to be quite a short period of time.
Between my third and fourth classes today, I went to try and catch my first theater rehearsal, unsuccessfully. But in front of the club were three 4-year old kids (or so) with some large piece of plastic trash fashioned into a sled. They were using a piece of bent rebar as the handle, stuck through a hole in the plastic.
The field they were playing in had nice, high grass, perfect for summer sledding. They were calling me Tober, so I went over to remedy the situation and ask if the people who come to rehearse theater had come by yet. Judging by the reaction, Portuguese was not spoken there. So I tried some mangled Changana (you try saying "u switwisisa?" or "do you understand?") and got a few good laughs. So I grabbed the handle of their sled and told them all to get on. We went for a couple rides, they learned my name, and I headed back to school.
I arrived in my final turma to a very tired group of kids. It was tough to get them to respond to the simplest of questions, but my strongest participants were girls. One of the girls who loves to participate and does so shamelessly but respectfully, came in 1/2 way through class, complaining rightfully of illness and grabbed her things to go home. It's obvious here when a kid is sick, and it's usually pretty serious.
It occurred to me that this was the turma that lost the kid to a knifing, and as I looked around I saw a wholly compassionate group, a few with black bands pinned to their uniforms (which means they lost a relative within the last year), and more with a depth to their gazes that revealed a reverence for education, however difficult they found it to obtain.
Sure, there are kids who don't pay attention and don't care in every class, but this one was different in the sheer amount of kids who did care. The 5-minute break in between classes was completely occupied with questions from the HIV/AIDS discussion. These questions ran into the time for the next class, with the same group, but I had time to spare.
As my lesson was finished, there was a crowd around my desk of kids curious about the homework I assigned - a different group. I explained it to their satisfaction, and they seemed to really grasp the underlying concepts, which is so hard to do here, given the raw information they're expected to learn. And these were kids I hadn't seen in between the two lessons. After they left, I sat down at the desk, did a little paperwork, and smiled.
A plain old good day.
Peace
John
Well, it wasn't spectacular, but it's been a while.
I woke up at 6 AM to work out, accomplished that, did some laundry in the relatively cool morning air while talking to some neighborhood kids, made some breakfast and then headed out to the field at 8 to see if I could get some morning Ultimate going.
The kids who said they'd be there were at school. I found that out from some younger kids who came running up to me with huge smiles on their faces and were very willing to try and grab the frisbees out of my hand. In their limited Portuguese, they managed to communicate that the kids weren't playing today, and I told them to relay the message that I'd be at home if they happened to show up.
As this was going on, I was taking note of a tiny puppy scavenging around for food. It's paws dark from digging through the mud and trash for nourishment, its obliviousness to us humans pulled on my heart - but what could I do? I knew it had a slim chance of surviving on its own, not to mention the abuse it would inevitably suffer from kids and many adults alike. I let it occupy some part of me that longs to show uninhibited compassion for all living things, and left it at that. For if I wrapped my world around every animal that was in its situation, I'd have a difficult time walking along the streets, seeing children who will most likely die within a couple of years. Not that it's not difficult.
So really, you have to celebrate life and realize that a moment is so much more precious here than in countries where life is less fragile.
I did some internetting, and got ready for school so I could go early and type up a paper on the computer (!) we have. When I arrived, the head secretary was in the midst of a typical computer problem, and I quickly remedied the situation out of routine.
My first two classes went off without a hitch, rattling off the Portuguese with surprising ease for a Monday. My mood was vastly improved and I have been actively relaxing through meditation and focusing on the task at hand without being intense about it.
My hardest transition, going from the youngest turma to the oldest (at about twice the youngest's age), was tempered by my newly-found inner peace and satisfaction that I'm actually doing something for people here.
Kids keep coming up to me with HIV/AIDS questions - good questions - and seem to understand and be satisfied with a realistic look at the truth. And they take this to heart as much as I do...which is fantastic. It almost seems like everybody was so concerned about letting everyone know AIDS exists and kills people, and making sure everyone has cheap condoms, that they forgot about teaching how it kills, where it came from, and how to use a condom. I find myself repeatedly (and enthusiastically) answering some basic questions.
So the next couple steps are to create a forum for free education about HIV/AIDS and a school club for kids who want to educate the community at large. And then integrating the Ultimate playing and theater/singing groups into this. So quite suddenly, two years is looking to be quite a short period of time.
Between my third and fourth classes today, I went to try and catch my first theater rehearsal, unsuccessfully. But in front of the club were three 4-year old kids (or so) with some large piece of plastic trash fashioned into a sled. They were using a piece of bent rebar as the handle, stuck through a hole in the plastic.
The field they were playing in had nice, high grass, perfect for summer sledding. They were calling me Tober, so I went over to remedy the situation and ask if the people who come to rehearse theater had come by yet. Judging by the reaction, Portuguese was not spoken there. So I tried some mangled Changana (you try saying "u switwisisa?" or "do you understand?") and got a few good laughs. So I grabbed the handle of their sled and told them all to get on. We went for a couple rides, they learned my name, and I headed back to school.
I arrived in my final turma to a very tired group of kids. It was tough to get them to respond to the simplest of questions, but my strongest participants were girls. One of the girls who loves to participate and does so shamelessly but respectfully, came in 1/2 way through class, complaining rightfully of illness and grabbed her things to go home. It's obvious here when a kid is sick, and it's usually pretty serious.
It occurred to me that this was the turma that lost the kid to a knifing, and as I looked around I saw a wholly compassionate group, a few with black bands pinned to their uniforms (which means they lost a relative within the last year), and more with a depth to their gazes that revealed a reverence for education, however difficult they found it to obtain.
Sure, there are kids who don't pay attention and don't care in every class, but this one was different in the sheer amount of kids who did care. The 5-minute break in between classes was completely occupied with questions from the HIV/AIDS discussion. These questions ran into the time for the next class, with the same group, but I had time to spare.
As my lesson was finished, there was a crowd around my desk of kids curious about the homework I assigned - a different group. I explained it to their satisfaction, and they seemed to really grasp the underlying concepts, which is so hard to do here, given the raw information they're expected to learn. And these were kids I hadn't seen in between the two lessons. After they left, I sat down at the desk, did a little paperwork, and smiled.
A plain old good day.
Peace
John
3/9/2003
Man, I miss people like crazy. But I love the kids here, at least the ones I don't have to teach. Some of 'em I love, but most of them - er, some of them - have this group mentality that they should make fun of me as much as possible. I've fought back a bit of it by beating them at their own game, but they still love to say words - to yell words at me mockingly - that I said incorrectly in class.
I can't imagine that happening in America, but I can't imagine very much that happens here happening in America. I'm constantly trying to draw parallels between my life here and my life back in the States, but all the analogies are useless. Life in the US seems unfairly easy and without real concern for very much except for paying bills, not getting stuck in traffic jams, catching that TV show, and wondering if your son/daughter is out having sex and doing drugs.
The very assumptions we base our lives on here and there are completely different. Education? Here, people struggle to get one due to overcrowding, overworked teachers, ambitious curricula, and well - day to day life. And if you manage to get a high school education, you've probably passed your 20th birthday and have hit middle-age. Those who go on to university are the best, brightest and richest - not to mention usually the youngest. And they are few and far between.
The wonderful thing is that, in spite of all this, the students have a tremendous hunger for knowledge. Even though they cheat a lot, the kids who are really motivated and study, like to be the ones who answer every question in class and ask curious questions after the lessons. They seem to understand the inherent value in education without being lectured about it, and see the respect in getting their diploma. Teachers are held in the highest regard and have quite a lot of power in school and in the community at large.
The school is the center of the town's spirit and is hope manifest. To be a teacher at the nerve center of this town means being looked at in a completely different light - and in my case, compounds the already obvious situation.
In terms of health, every day can be a struggle against malaria, back-breaking labor, hunger, worms, bacteria, parasites, viruses (including the present, but invisible HIV), but even though there's more to worry about, people here worry less about their health than in the States.
Hospitals rarely have doctors, mainly staffed by nurses who give out medication and act as GPs. Typical supplies are, well, in short supply.
And money? Just like the States, most major decisions revolve around the question of money. The major decisions here, however, are much more basic and more impactful.
Of course, there are a billion things which I've only touched on in this journal that affect the underlying assumptions of day-to-day life. The thing I wanted to get across was that the basic approach to life is a world apart, and though many of the results of that approach may seem similar, even a cursory examination of the successful bread store, the gas station with ice cream and full bar or the upscale bank, reveal a society built on a completely different foundation.
Peace
John
I can't imagine that happening in America, but I can't imagine very much that happens here happening in America. I'm constantly trying to draw parallels between my life here and my life back in the States, but all the analogies are useless. Life in the US seems unfairly easy and without real concern for very much except for paying bills, not getting stuck in traffic jams, catching that TV show, and wondering if your son/daughter is out having sex and doing drugs.
The very assumptions we base our lives on here and there are completely different. Education? Here, people struggle to get one due to overcrowding, overworked teachers, ambitious curricula, and well - day to day life. And if you manage to get a high school education, you've probably passed your 20th birthday and have hit middle-age. Those who go on to university are the best, brightest and richest - not to mention usually the youngest. And they are few and far between.
The wonderful thing is that, in spite of all this, the students have a tremendous hunger for knowledge. Even though they cheat a lot, the kids who are really motivated and study, like to be the ones who answer every question in class and ask curious questions after the lessons. They seem to understand the inherent value in education without being lectured about it, and see the respect in getting their diploma. Teachers are held in the highest regard and have quite a lot of power in school and in the community at large.
The school is the center of the town's spirit and is hope manifest. To be a teacher at the nerve center of this town means being looked at in a completely different light - and in my case, compounds the already obvious situation.
In terms of health, every day can be a struggle against malaria, back-breaking labor, hunger, worms, bacteria, parasites, viruses (including the present, but invisible HIV), but even though there's more to worry about, people here worry less about their health than in the States.
Hospitals rarely have doctors, mainly staffed by nurses who give out medication and act as GPs. Typical supplies are, well, in short supply.
And money? Just like the States, most major decisions revolve around the question of money. The major decisions here, however, are much more basic and more impactful.
Of course, there are a billion things which I've only touched on in this journal that affect the underlying assumptions of day-to-day life. The thing I wanted to get across was that the basic approach to life is a world apart, and though many of the results of that approach may seem similar, even a cursory examination of the successful bread store, the gas station with ice cream and full bar or the upscale bank, reveal a society built on a completely different foundation.
Peace
John
Saturday, April 19, 2003
3/15/2003
A lazy Saturday ahead, most of the people in town took to making something more of it. As I walked into school, students were cleaning up the rooms, farming out in the fields, and playing female-dominated games of volleyball and soccer.
I arrived 5 minutes late, by my quite anal standards, well before the other professors. Laurenco was there, however, and we talked briefly. I noticed that I had forgotten to shave. Shit.
This would have been inconsequential, but this wasn't any old 2-week planning meeting. I was to present the HIV/AIDS curriculum I had just drawn up and was working on planning out in detail. I told myself it was no big deal because I look pretty weird anyway, and a 5 o'clock shadow...
I walked in and took a seat next to a distant (in the mental sense) colleague who teaches biology as well. She had helped Tober in his time here, and was supposed to have been helping me plan lessons. But I hadn't seen her yet during the trimester. And I needed to struggle with the lessons on my own.
So all told, I had spent not more than a few minutes around her. She started to ask me, as the planning session began, how my lessons have been going. She asked specifically if I had had the students draw the diagram of the mitochondria, a part of the cell.
At about this time, another professor came in to make a total of about 12 of us. He sat alone, talking loudly to nobody in particular. I didn't understand, but he seemed to be cracking a couple good jokes. I smiled along with the others, as I've taken to doing when I don't quite understand. I figure, at the very least, it's pretty funny that I don't even get it.
So I responded to my colleague that I hadn't had them draw specifically that drawing, but that they knew the important structures from other drawings and the notes I gave them.
I didn't get that much out before I was in a verbal battle over whether I should have the students draw EVERY drawing, fueled by her belligerence. I was fairly taken aback by this, wondering if this was something Tober dealt with well, or maybe I was just teaching completely incorrectly.
I argued that the drawings in our book and on the exam won't be the same, so it helps to see the structures, but not to memorize them or they won't understand the structures. I thought I had laid out a pretty good argument, but it was obvious that the line was firm - I needed to give every single drawing.
And just as I started to repeat my argument, she - to this point, uncharacteristically - sat back and smiled. It was a bizarre smile, and it took a couple seconds to realize that she was drunk.
Plastered.
I looked in her eyes and found in response black and brown circles trying very hard to find every single object, albeit slowly.
I gave up my argument, conceding that I would draw the diagrams for my students, and getting to work. It dawned on me that she was not alone, as the professor who sat alone was staring off into space. The lack of telltale smells of alcohol made me wonder if they were stoned, but she was being far too argumentative.
It was announced soon after that that the bank was coming to make a presentation. My colleague struggled to move her desk to the front of the room, nearly mowing down an oblivious pedagogical director.
About a minute into the presentation, I realized they were making a pitch for life insurance, through the bank. They gave us some paperwork and age-specific rates for policies of 1-4000 US dollars.
One of the presenters I happen to know from around town, and he's a very quiet, gentle man. Obviously, he was interested in the commission - he has a full family to support - but had very little experience pitching life insurance. And a room full of the most educated people in town is pretty intimidating. I know how important eye contact is, so I made sure I was looking at him when his partner handed things over to him. Apparently, I was the only one, because we held a pretty uncomfortable gaze for the duration of his talk, but I knew it was helping him. And I was probably the only one in there who already HAD life insurance.
Doing some quick math, I figured out that all the numbers were hoping people made it to 52 years old - that was the average age at which the premium was paid off. As the life expectancy is lower than that, they were obviously targeting a richer crowd - a crowd that didn't have as immediate a need for life insurance. But I couldn't argue that it was a bad thing. The burden on a family that has just lost a significant source of income here is devastating.
There was a very distant, silly question, revealing another member of the drinking group. It became quickly obvious that this week was not the time to try and rally support for HIV/AIDS advocates.
When it came to the open forum part of the meeting, either Laurenco forgot or felt the same way, and I promised myself to bring it up next week.
And for the second planning meeting in a row, an announcement of a professor's sibling's death closed matters.
I definitely don't know their pain, so I can't begin to judge their drinking patterns. But those drunken eyes were not happy ones.
Peace
John
I arrived 5 minutes late, by my quite anal standards, well before the other professors. Laurenco was there, however, and we talked briefly. I noticed that I had forgotten to shave. Shit.
This would have been inconsequential, but this wasn't any old 2-week planning meeting. I was to present the HIV/AIDS curriculum I had just drawn up and was working on planning out in detail. I told myself it was no big deal because I look pretty weird anyway, and a 5 o'clock shadow...
I walked in and took a seat next to a distant (in the mental sense) colleague who teaches biology as well. She had helped Tober in his time here, and was supposed to have been helping me plan lessons. But I hadn't seen her yet during the trimester. And I needed to struggle with the lessons on my own.
So all told, I had spent not more than a few minutes around her. She started to ask me, as the planning session began, how my lessons have been going. She asked specifically if I had had the students draw the diagram of the mitochondria, a part of the cell.
At about this time, another professor came in to make a total of about 12 of us. He sat alone, talking loudly to nobody in particular. I didn't understand, but he seemed to be cracking a couple good jokes. I smiled along with the others, as I've taken to doing when I don't quite understand. I figure, at the very least, it's pretty funny that I don't even get it.
So I responded to my colleague that I hadn't had them draw specifically that drawing, but that they knew the important structures from other drawings and the notes I gave them.
I didn't get that much out before I was in a verbal battle over whether I should have the students draw EVERY drawing, fueled by her belligerence. I was fairly taken aback by this, wondering if this was something Tober dealt with well, or maybe I was just teaching completely incorrectly.
I argued that the drawings in our book and on the exam won't be the same, so it helps to see the structures, but not to memorize them or they won't understand the structures. I thought I had laid out a pretty good argument, but it was obvious that the line was firm - I needed to give every single drawing.
And just as I started to repeat my argument, she - to this point, uncharacteristically - sat back and smiled. It was a bizarre smile, and it took a couple seconds to realize that she was drunk.
Plastered.
I looked in her eyes and found in response black and brown circles trying very hard to find every single object, albeit slowly.
I gave up my argument, conceding that I would draw the diagrams for my students, and getting to work. It dawned on me that she was not alone, as the professor who sat alone was staring off into space. The lack of telltale smells of alcohol made me wonder if they were stoned, but she was being far too argumentative.
It was announced soon after that that the bank was coming to make a presentation. My colleague struggled to move her desk to the front of the room, nearly mowing down an oblivious pedagogical director.
About a minute into the presentation, I realized they were making a pitch for life insurance, through the bank. They gave us some paperwork and age-specific rates for policies of 1-4000 US dollars.
One of the presenters I happen to know from around town, and he's a very quiet, gentle man. Obviously, he was interested in the commission - he has a full family to support - but had very little experience pitching life insurance. And a room full of the most educated people in town is pretty intimidating. I know how important eye contact is, so I made sure I was looking at him when his partner handed things over to him. Apparently, I was the only one, because we held a pretty uncomfortable gaze for the duration of his talk, but I knew it was helping him. And I was probably the only one in there who already HAD life insurance.
Doing some quick math, I figured out that all the numbers were hoping people made it to 52 years old - that was the average age at which the premium was paid off. As the life expectancy is lower than that, they were obviously targeting a richer crowd - a crowd that didn't have as immediate a need for life insurance. But I couldn't argue that it was a bad thing. The burden on a family that has just lost a significant source of income here is devastating.
There was a very distant, silly question, revealing another member of the drinking group. It became quickly obvious that this week was not the time to try and rally support for HIV/AIDS advocates.
When it came to the open forum part of the meeting, either Laurenco forgot or felt the same way, and I promised myself to bring it up next week.
And for the second planning meeting in a row, an announcement of a professor's sibling's death closed matters.
I definitely don't know their pain, so I can't begin to judge their drinking patterns. But those drunken eyes were not happy ones.
Peace
John
3/14/2003
Beware the Ides of March.
That phrase has been running through my head all day, though it relates to tomorrow. Mainly, I've been thinking about how I came to learn what the Ides of March were, in English class. Of course I don't remember now. I'm sure it's trivial and in the grand scheme, unimportant, but it bothers me that I don't remember.
It bothers me because my reading comprehension in high school was so abysmal. But only lately have I discovered why I could understand and apply essentially long texts on other subjects, but when it came to fiction, I was a fish out of water.
It has to do with assumptions.
There's an assumption in our educational system that when you are reading a book or a story of some sort, you need to give the characters some sort of unspoken automatic "background". It has to do with layering history, the American identity, and stereotypes onto a character that you're being introduced to. And so authors who write from this system make a big deal as to the differences (from this basic assumption) that their character is. And more emphasis is placed on how classic authors' characters differ from the assumed "expectation".
But that's not how I think. I wanted the author to build the character from the ground up - I wanted to make no assumptions whatsoever. I still feel that this burden is on the writer if the author expects the reader to have a relationship with this character.
At the time, though, I didn't know that. Compounding this, I get easily distracted and my thoughts will start to wander about some tangential thing for a couple of paragraphs. I have the same issue with public readings of books, plays, etc. There's so much going on in the human dynamics of the situation, that I can't focus on the text. I can always go back to the text later, but life only happens once.
The whole point of bringing this up is to say that, as an educator, I should realize that my manner of presenting information (however diverse it may be) just will not mesh with some students. So I will see exam results that don't necessarily reflect knowledge...
Peace
John
That phrase has been running through my head all day, though it relates to tomorrow. Mainly, I've been thinking about how I came to learn what the Ides of March were, in English class. Of course I don't remember now. I'm sure it's trivial and in the grand scheme, unimportant, but it bothers me that I don't remember.
It bothers me because my reading comprehension in high school was so abysmal. But only lately have I discovered why I could understand and apply essentially long texts on other subjects, but when it came to fiction, I was a fish out of water.
It has to do with assumptions.
There's an assumption in our educational system that when you are reading a book or a story of some sort, you need to give the characters some sort of unspoken automatic "background". It has to do with layering history, the American identity, and stereotypes onto a character that you're being introduced to. And so authors who write from this system make a big deal as to the differences (from this basic assumption) that their character is. And more emphasis is placed on how classic authors' characters differ from the assumed "expectation".
But that's not how I think. I wanted the author to build the character from the ground up - I wanted to make no assumptions whatsoever. I still feel that this burden is on the writer if the author expects the reader to have a relationship with this character.
At the time, though, I didn't know that. Compounding this, I get easily distracted and my thoughts will start to wander about some tangential thing for a couple of paragraphs. I have the same issue with public readings of books, plays, etc. There's so much going on in the human dynamics of the situation, that I can't focus on the text. I can always go back to the text later, but life only happens once.
The whole point of bringing this up is to say that, as an educator, I should realize that my manner of presenting information (however diverse it may be) just will not mesh with some students. So I will see exam results that don't necessarily reflect knowledge...
Peace
John
3/13/2003
There are some days when I'm having this experience. Some days, this experience has me. Today was the latter.
I woke up at 7, did my laundry, finished up some schoolwork, did some paperwork, went out to run errands, came back, ran some more, ate a brief lunch, had 5 classes in a row (2 of them reviews of the past 7 lessons, which is exasperating), came back, got changed for Ultimate, checked mail, brought back a package, played Ultimate, showered, wolfed down dinner, went to a Changana lesson, came back, worked on HIV/AIDS lessons...now it's 12:30.
But of course I'm loving every second of it. And everyone said I'd have all sorts of free time as a volunteer. Hah! I don't want it!
Peace
John
I woke up at 7, did my laundry, finished up some schoolwork, did some paperwork, went out to run errands, came back, ran some more, ate a brief lunch, had 5 classes in a row (2 of them reviews of the past 7 lessons, which is exasperating), came back, got changed for Ultimate, checked mail, brought back a package, played Ultimate, showered, wolfed down dinner, went to a Changana lesson, came back, worked on HIV/AIDS lessons...now it's 12:30.
But of course I'm loving every second of it. And everyone said I'd have all sorts of free time as a volunteer. Hah! I don't want it!
Peace
John
3/12/2003
One year ago, I was working part-time for Dirt Devil, in the midst of directing a musical, getting together a group of performance groups on campus, thinking seriously about Peace Corps, thinking about my spring break when I did a little hiking in PA, and wondering where my graduation was going to take me.
Well, it took me here. And a year later, one of the biggest worries I have is the emotional abuse I'm suffering at the hands of 9th grade Mozambican girls. Calling me on words that I mispronounce in class, and loving every second of it. I've found no solution and no easy way to not take it personally.
I've figured out that it's just their immature selfishness - they'd rather get a rise out of saying something than see me be happy. And it's even funnier to them that I either don't react or just stare at them. So I have to tell myself, reiterate to myself, that it's not ME - Tober went through the same thing - and through learning how to deal with this, I will be stronger.
For now, having to deal with this almost seems like a step backwards from one year ago, but I know in the long run it will all be worth it.
Yeah, when they say the first three months are hard, they really mean it. Sunday is my 3-month "anniversary" of being in this city.
I talked with Eric today - it's fantastic to hear from someone and him in particular. He tells me about all sorts of ridiculous, funny things and I get all long-winded about simple, sometimes poignant things and it's just like always. I'm only using the future tense when talking about his possible visit - never the conditional. "When you get here", "We are going to...", and so on. I can't wait for people to ask me if he's my brother (all white males my age are my brother) and be able to say yes.
He told me about the latest prank at CWRU - well, maybe not the latest, but at least the funniest. Apparently a porta-potty was wired up to be a remote control toilet, complete with speakers and microphone to allow for full interactivity. It was wheeled around the main quad, talking to students and professors.
I can't begin to imagine what people here would think about that. They would laugh, but for a different reason...because this guy put so much effort into such a silly toy that exploits the very American comic weaknesses: the toilet and the unsolicited conversation.
My last turma was misbehaving and I had just lost patience today, so I started to pack up without giving a lesson they needed for a test next week. They begged and pleaded, ending up the quietest class I've had in quite a while.
Peace
John
Well, it took me here. And a year later, one of the biggest worries I have is the emotional abuse I'm suffering at the hands of 9th grade Mozambican girls. Calling me on words that I mispronounce in class, and loving every second of it. I've found no solution and no easy way to not take it personally.
I've figured out that it's just their immature selfishness - they'd rather get a rise out of saying something than see me be happy. And it's even funnier to them that I either don't react or just stare at them. So I have to tell myself, reiterate to myself, that it's not ME - Tober went through the same thing - and through learning how to deal with this, I will be stronger.
For now, having to deal with this almost seems like a step backwards from one year ago, but I know in the long run it will all be worth it.
Yeah, when they say the first three months are hard, they really mean it. Sunday is my 3-month "anniversary" of being in this city.
I talked with Eric today - it's fantastic to hear from someone and him in particular. He tells me about all sorts of ridiculous, funny things and I get all long-winded about simple, sometimes poignant things and it's just like always. I'm only using the future tense when talking about his possible visit - never the conditional. "When you get here", "We are going to...", and so on. I can't wait for people to ask me if he's my brother (all white males my age are my brother) and be able to say yes.
He told me about the latest prank at CWRU - well, maybe not the latest, but at least the funniest. Apparently a porta-potty was wired up to be a remote control toilet, complete with speakers and microphone to allow for full interactivity. It was wheeled around the main quad, talking to students and professors.
I can't begin to imagine what people here would think about that. They would laugh, but for a different reason...because this guy put so much effort into such a silly toy that exploits the very American comic weaknesses: the toilet and the unsolicited conversation.
My last turma was misbehaving and I had just lost patience today, so I started to pack up without giving a lesson they needed for a test next week. They begged and pleaded, ending up the quietest class I've had in quite a while.
Peace
John
Saturday, April 12, 2003
3/8/2003
I have a cold today. Blah. The upside is that I've gotten a lot of Changana studying in and done not much else than cook and shop.
Of course, that's left plenty of time to think which can only be a bad thing. Like usual, thinking about why I'm here and not in America doing things for a community there - but I've got plenty of time for that, right?
I suppose it's natural to ponder my mortality at any given moment, but here I don't like doing it because death is so real and for me, so much scarier. I'm a believer in the theory that when we die, that's it.
Of course, it's quite a conundrum - this whole pondering death thing. From a purely selfish point of view, it doesn't matter at all what I do over the course of my life because the stuff that makes me who I am, a conscious being, will cease to be. So what's the big deal about doing anything?
But then, when you look at the big picture (like I have to do about spending 2 years here), it seems more and more obvious that everything you do is important and relevant, because the only immortality you have is in the mind of others. This is not to say that I feel I need to live my life in order to create a good image of myself for people to remember me by - but it is THE reason to be, and my little meaning of life.
So this is all meant to say that I shouldn't alter my behavior for the sake of perception, but that I should examine carefully why I behave in ways I'd rather not behave so I can figure out what's going on in my head. I want to experience so much, but it's difficult to truly absorb myself in something when I don't have a good grasp on my thoughts and processing of day-to-day life.
So maybe all this seems morbid and depressing, but to me it is wonderfully exciting to know I've got the ability to experience so much so intensely and share it with so many people!
That having been said, it's quite clear that the world is going to shit. The US wants to be in a war by St. Patrick's Day, Israel is bombing cars full of people, and half the world is walking the streets in protest of it all. I'd say it sounds like the 60s, but musicians who want to take political stands can't, out of fear. Music was the medium of protest for the last generation, and now it's completely censored. Or at least that's the impression I'm getting halfway around the world.
Peace
John
Of course, that's left plenty of time to think which can only be a bad thing. Like usual, thinking about why I'm here and not in America doing things for a community there - but I've got plenty of time for that, right?
I suppose it's natural to ponder my mortality at any given moment, but here I don't like doing it because death is so real and for me, so much scarier. I'm a believer in the theory that when we die, that's it.
Of course, it's quite a conundrum - this whole pondering death thing. From a purely selfish point of view, it doesn't matter at all what I do over the course of my life because the stuff that makes me who I am, a conscious being, will cease to be. So what's the big deal about doing anything?
But then, when you look at the big picture (like I have to do about spending 2 years here), it seems more and more obvious that everything you do is important and relevant, because the only immortality you have is in the mind of others. This is not to say that I feel I need to live my life in order to create a good image of myself for people to remember me by - but it is THE reason to be, and my little meaning of life.
So this is all meant to say that I shouldn't alter my behavior for the sake of perception, but that I should examine carefully why I behave in ways I'd rather not behave so I can figure out what's going on in my head. I want to experience so much, but it's difficult to truly absorb myself in something when I don't have a good grasp on my thoughts and processing of day-to-day life.
So maybe all this seems morbid and depressing, but to me it is wonderfully exciting to know I've got the ability to experience so much so intensely and share it with so many people!
That having been said, it's quite clear that the world is going to shit. The US wants to be in a war by St. Patrick's Day, Israel is bombing cars full of people, and half the world is walking the streets in protest of it all. I'd say it sounds like the 60s, but musicians who want to take political stands can't, out of fear. Music was the medium of protest for the last generation, and now it's completely censored. Or at least that's the impression I'm getting halfway around the world.
Peace
John
3/7/2003
I think I'm starting to feel the whole gravity of what I'm doing here. In one swell foop I watched a Mozambican teacher give a lesson that reiterated the fundamental weaknesses of the educational system, and was simultaneously reminded of how badly I'm f---ing things up with my carefully constructed life back in the States.
I was truly happy with myself and the people in my life when I left. I wasn't happy with my career, but it feels like I ended up cutting off my nose to spite my face. And when I keep looking at things in such a narrow-minded way, it seems plain that it was a dumb, dumb decision and I should try to remedy things by leaving immediately.
But as soon as I take a step back, the pessimistic core disappears when taken with the good I can do here and the love of my family and true friends. It almost starts to seem like 2 years is the least I can do. But what seems like the changing of my mood is really the changing of how much of the picture I'm seeing at the moment.
When I feel like I'm accomplishing something, the ball of cynicism fades away - but when I feel like I'm treading water, biding my time, all I can see are mistakes and doubts.
And so this swapping gets very tiring, because I just want to tell my brain to stick to the cause at hand. Learn more Portuguese, learn Changana, teach about HIV, share my teaching methods, share my work ethic, live up to my stated values for treating other people, control my temper, realize that taunting is just one form of misunderstanding, stay in shape, keep communicating with loved ones, keep an open mind, maintain that idealism, know that I don't need any more romance, cook and clean, stay healthy, look for ways to help, be patient, don't be stubborn, don't let principles get in the way of personal relationships or saving the world, save the world, be an example and not a lecturer, but lecture well when necessary, accept cultural differences, exact cultural understanding, keep working hard, don't complain, support others, don't patronize, don't alienate, listen without judging, realize that every day presents the same opportunities, wanting is laziness and laziness is apathy, apathy is my biggest opponent and biggest fear, love...
And so this swims around in my head all day long so maybe when someone asks me a question and they think I don't understand, it's because I'm trying to think about how I can possibly explain the honest answer.
Peace
John
I was truly happy with myself and the people in my life when I left. I wasn't happy with my career, but it feels like I ended up cutting off my nose to spite my face. And when I keep looking at things in such a narrow-minded way, it seems plain that it was a dumb, dumb decision and I should try to remedy things by leaving immediately.
But as soon as I take a step back, the pessimistic core disappears when taken with the good I can do here and the love of my family and true friends. It almost starts to seem like 2 years is the least I can do. But what seems like the changing of my mood is really the changing of how much of the picture I'm seeing at the moment.
When I feel like I'm accomplishing something, the ball of cynicism fades away - but when I feel like I'm treading water, biding my time, all I can see are mistakes and doubts.
And so this swapping gets very tiring, because I just want to tell my brain to stick to the cause at hand. Learn more Portuguese, learn Changana, teach about HIV, share my teaching methods, share my work ethic, live up to my stated values for treating other people, control my temper, realize that taunting is just one form of misunderstanding, stay in shape, keep communicating with loved ones, keep an open mind, maintain that idealism, know that I don't need any more romance, cook and clean, stay healthy, look for ways to help, be patient, don't be stubborn, don't let principles get in the way of personal relationships or saving the world, save the world, be an example and not a lecturer, but lecture well when necessary, accept cultural differences, exact cultural understanding, keep working hard, don't complain, support others, don't patronize, don't alienate, listen without judging, realize that every day presents the same opportunities, wanting is laziness and laziness is apathy, apathy is my biggest opponent and biggest fear, love...
And so this swims around in my head all day long so maybe when someone asks me a question and they think I don't understand, it's because I'm trying to think about how I can possibly explain the honest answer.
Peace
John
3/6/2003
My discipline today got a little more - well, pointed. I've backed off "in-your-face" discipline because it just doesn't accomplish anything, like hitting. Not that I was or would ever hit, but I realized that ridiculing students doesn't do anything for respect.
So I still need to show students they need to be quiet, and making them leave (or giving them the threat) is usually enough. But when it's the last period of the day, you can't tell them to leave - so that's when you need to be creative.
Two boys near the back were talking and I couldn't sit them in front because there was no room, so I had them stand on either side of the chalkboard facing the rest of the class. I was asking questions most of the kids knew already so I figured they would know the answers. I stood in the middle of the class and asked them questions which were part of my lesson. I went to the board, continued to write and continued to ask them questions, which they knew for the most part. I asked them why they knew the answers now and not when they were sitting down, to no response. I let them sit back down after that, and they stayed quiet the rest of the time.
Some days I just need to take a deep breath, think of everyone I miss, see what I want to accomplish and recenter myself. Did I mention this happens almost every day?
Peace
John
So I still need to show students they need to be quiet, and making them leave (or giving them the threat) is usually enough. But when it's the last period of the day, you can't tell them to leave - so that's when you need to be creative.
Two boys near the back were talking and I couldn't sit them in front because there was no room, so I had them stand on either side of the chalkboard facing the rest of the class. I was asking questions most of the kids knew already so I figured they would know the answers. I stood in the middle of the class and asked them questions which were part of my lesson. I went to the board, continued to write and continued to ask them questions, which they knew for the most part. I asked them why they knew the answers now and not when they were sitting down, to no response. I let them sit back down after that, and they stayed quiet the rest of the time.
Some days I just need to take a deep breath, think of everyone I miss, see what I want to accomplish and recenter myself. Did I mention this happens almost every day?
Peace
John
2/9/2003
It seems silly to mark the occasion of my 500th page in this journal with some look back on what my experiences have been since September. For you can go ahead and read about all of that if you want (again, maybe).
I've been reading, "Surely You're Joking Mr. Feynmann" and realizing that this man has done and experienced so many things in his life, it seems so awesome to get a brief view into it all - and so overwhelming. Naturally, I think about my own experiences, and if having a greater breadth of experiences is automatically better than being sheltered, insular.
Well, to let you in on my thought process, I took two extreme cases. On the one hand is a worldly man like Richard Feynmann who traveled the world and approached life with reckless abandon. He had such a wide variety of experiences that his bar was raised quite high, in terms of what was an important experience. Not that he was pompous - an experience didn't need to be superficially important, but in order to achieve a unique experience, it was harder because his scope was so large.
Now, for a typical farming Mozambican, their scope is very limited, this limiting the variety of their experiences. But within their respective scopes, there are equally impactful experiences, completely relative to what they have previously experienced. A farmer may talk about a bumper crop in the same tone that an ambassador speaks of meeting a queen.
I picture their scopes of experience as circles. When you get closer to the edge, the experiences are further away from the norm (the center) and more impactful. When you have an experience that's outside the circle, it increases the scope of your experiences and similar experiences (which your circle now includes implicitly) aren't as impactful as that first experience.
Like me coming here. The first few days were mind-blowing, but I'm not amazed every day by the same things I was amazed by then. This idea of scope is just an explanation of how humans adapt, but is also helping me understand people whose lives are lesser in scope but not necessarily in urgency, importance, or depth. Many times it works the other way - those of us who have all sorts of things under their belt don't take advantage of opportunities and don't have many experiences along the edge of the circle.
Started filming bike maintenance and safety video today that might be Africa-wide, for Peace Corps. It's funny.
Peace
John
I've been reading, "Surely You're Joking Mr. Feynmann" and realizing that this man has done and experienced so many things in his life, it seems so awesome to get a brief view into it all - and so overwhelming. Naturally, I think about my own experiences, and if having a greater breadth of experiences is automatically better than being sheltered, insular.
Well, to let you in on my thought process, I took two extreme cases. On the one hand is a worldly man like Richard Feynmann who traveled the world and approached life with reckless abandon. He had such a wide variety of experiences that his bar was raised quite high, in terms of what was an important experience. Not that he was pompous - an experience didn't need to be superficially important, but in order to achieve a unique experience, it was harder because his scope was so large.
Now, for a typical farming Mozambican, their scope is very limited, this limiting the variety of their experiences. But within their respective scopes, there are equally impactful experiences, completely relative to what they have previously experienced. A farmer may talk about a bumper crop in the same tone that an ambassador speaks of meeting a queen.
I picture their scopes of experience as circles. When you get closer to the edge, the experiences are further away from the norm (the center) and more impactful. When you have an experience that's outside the circle, it increases the scope of your experiences and similar experiences (which your circle now includes implicitly) aren't as impactful as that first experience.
Like me coming here. The first few days were mind-blowing, but I'm not amazed every day by the same things I was amazed by then. This idea of scope is just an explanation of how humans adapt, but is also helping me understand people whose lives are lesser in scope but not necessarily in urgency, importance, or depth. Many times it works the other way - those of us who have all sorts of things under their belt don't take advantage of opportunities and don't have many experiences along the edge of the circle.
Started filming bike maintenance and safety video today that might be Africa-wide, for Peace Corps. It's funny.
Peace
John
Wednesday, April 09, 2003
2/8/2003
I still consider my reasons for coming, every day, and I ask myself at every juncture in my decision-making, what is the best decision in terms of my motivations for coming to Mozambique? So if I choose to teach a lesson a certain way, deny water to someone, use a little more water doing my laundry, I'm thinking about how it could eventually help people here.
And with every passing day, it gets harder to justify my actions, and it may happen that I can't justify my actions. That scares me, because then I will have lost my purpose for being here.
I had a conversation earlier tonight about vegetarianism. I confirmed that I was veggie to another professor at my school who ate dinner with us tonight, and he asked me if it was due to religious reasons. I said it was just because of the way animals are treated in the US, and that I had no church, no religion. This surprised him greatly, but didn't change his respect for me.
It's interesting to me, the phenomenon that someone needs to have a bigger thing than themselves to justify their principles and beliefs - that it's not sufficient to have principles and beliefs for the sake of having them.
And it's also intriguing as to why people always ask if I've taken a girlfriend here yet. Taken day after day, it feels like a matter of willpower, even though I'm not interested in anyone here and I want to concentrate on doing my job. When I take a step back, though, I realize that I'm in complete control and the power of suggestion (by others) is merely playing on things the "victim" wants to do anyway. The same thing with being drunk - you won't do drunk, anything you really didn't want to do sober, but when you're not true to yourself, you're different drunk. So when you don't really mean something you say, and people try to "change" you - you'll change, but only in what you're saying.
So what I'm afraid of, in general, is people changing me, is this country changing me, but I'll only change in the ways that I wasn't sure of inside myself before, and ways I won't necessarily notice or mind.
And if I dwell on this too much, is it just as time-consuming as taking a girlfriend? Yeah, I gotta move on.
So I had an interesting discussion with another teacher at the school tonight about the origin - the true nationality - of people and the things they produce. He is from Zimbabwe, and sees blues music as being African in nature because African-Americans started it, essentially. But Phillip (another volunteer visiting) and I argued essentially that they are Americans when they are born in America.
Kingston, the man from Zimbabwe, is a Shona. He is essentially from the highest "caste" in Zimbabwe, though it would be a disservice to separate the three major tribes like that. So I asked him where he's from, if he knows that, and he is from the Great Zimbabwe.
But what I was really after was that it all depends on where you draw lines. You can draw a line between the Great Zimbabwe and where he was born, and where he lives. And it's just as arbitrary as drawing a line between Zimbabwe and Mozambique, between Africa and Asia, between Asia and North America.
So essentially, I was arguing that African-Americans are just as much African as they are American, and I am just as much Lithuanian as I am American. You can say that blues is African music, because people can trace their ancestry to Africa, but it is still American because of the cultural influence. America changed because of blues, and vice versa. Blues would not be what it is were it not exactly the same - with the influence of cultures.
So we were basically arguing the same thing, that we all come from different places, but our culture defines us ultimately. We were just coming from different places to talk about it. Place about 10,000 miles apart.
Peace
John
And with every passing day, it gets harder to justify my actions, and it may happen that I can't justify my actions. That scares me, because then I will have lost my purpose for being here.
I had a conversation earlier tonight about vegetarianism. I confirmed that I was veggie to another professor at my school who ate dinner with us tonight, and he asked me if it was due to religious reasons. I said it was just because of the way animals are treated in the US, and that I had no church, no religion. This surprised him greatly, but didn't change his respect for me.
It's interesting to me, the phenomenon that someone needs to have a bigger thing than themselves to justify their principles and beliefs - that it's not sufficient to have principles and beliefs for the sake of having them.
And it's also intriguing as to why people always ask if I've taken a girlfriend here yet. Taken day after day, it feels like a matter of willpower, even though I'm not interested in anyone here and I want to concentrate on doing my job. When I take a step back, though, I realize that I'm in complete control and the power of suggestion (by others) is merely playing on things the "victim" wants to do anyway. The same thing with being drunk - you won't do drunk, anything you really didn't want to do sober, but when you're not true to yourself, you're different drunk. So when you don't really mean something you say, and people try to "change" you - you'll change, but only in what you're saying.
So what I'm afraid of, in general, is people changing me, is this country changing me, but I'll only change in the ways that I wasn't sure of inside myself before, and ways I won't necessarily notice or mind.
And if I dwell on this too much, is it just as time-consuming as taking a girlfriend? Yeah, I gotta move on.
So I had an interesting discussion with another teacher at the school tonight about the origin - the true nationality - of people and the things they produce. He is from Zimbabwe, and sees blues music as being African in nature because African-Americans started it, essentially. But Phillip (another volunteer visiting) and I argued essentially that they are Americans when they are born in America.
Kingston, the man from Zimbabwe, is a Shona. He is essentially from the highest "caste" in Zimbabwe, though it would be a disservice to separate the three major tribes like that. So I asked him where he's from, if he knows that, and he is from the Great Zimbabwe.
But what I was really after was that it all depends on where you draw lines. You can draw a line between the Great Zimbabwe and where he was born, and where he lives. And it's just as arbitrary as drawing a line between Zimbabwe and Mozambique, between Africa and Asia, between Asia and North America.
So essentially, I was arguing that African-Americans are just as much African as they are American, and I am just as much Lithuanian as I am American. You can say that blues is African music, because people can trace their ancestry to Africa, but it is still American because of the cultural influence. America changed because of blues, and vice versa. Blues would not be what it is were it not exactly the same - with the influence of cultures.
So we were basically arguing the same thing, that we all come from different places, but our culture defines us ultimately. We were just coming from different places to talk about it. Place about 10,000 miles apart.
Peace
John
2/7/2003
Like usual, my head's swimming with things I want to write about.
Like correcting a homework assignment which students denied they were given, then did in class by copying off of each other. Which I allowed, because only about 75% of the class was there and I can't take attendance yet.
Like throwing a student out of class for being disruptive, but having students tell me I should hit her. I stopped class and asked them why they thought hitting would solve anything, and some of the soft-spoken ones seemed to agree with me.
Like playing a game of Ultimate just after school with no shirt on, and getting catcalls for it.
Like realizing that in order to maintain my "realistic idealism" about the world, I need to have a tremendous amount of will power.
Like hearing the worst lounge singer in Mozambique.
Like realizing I've got 1 1/2 years to go and having that feel so short and so long at the same time.
Like feeling that I'm not doing everything I can...yet.
Peace
John
Like correcting a homework assignment which students denied they were given, then did in class by copying off of each other. Which I allowed, because only about 75% of the class was there and I can't take attendance yet.
Like throwing a student out of class for being disruptive, but having students tell me I should hit her. I stopped class and asked them why they thought hitting would solve anything, and some of the soft-spoken ones seemed to agree with me.
Like playing a game of Ultimate just after school with no shirt on, and getting catcalls for it.
Like realizing that in order to maintain my "realistic idealism" about the world, I need to have a tremendous amount of will power.
Like hearing the worst lounge singer in Mozambique.
Like realizing I've got 1 1/2 years to go and having that feel so short and so long at the same time.
Like feeling that I'm not doing everything I can...yet.
Peace
John
2/6/2003
Like every day, today was an adventure.
I taught 4 reasonably good lessons to well-behaved students and one bad lesson to "indiciplinados" who just would not be quiet no matter what I did. I kicked Dinho out within 2 minutes because, during my AIDS lecture, he asked "How do you know this information? Have you seen the sick people yourself?" just to make all the other students laugh and make a fool (or try to) out of me. After he left, I actually got some good questions when people realized I was serious.
When I got back home, I chewed him out as best I could (in Portuguese) for disrespecting me and the lesson, for not realizing how serious AIDS is, and just in general for clowning around when he could be helping me out in the classroom. He really is a unique kid here, having lived next to Americans since he was about 10 years old.
I think I made an impression when I said it seemed like he was trying to make friends through his behavior, which he obviously doesn't need to do - and if he kept up being rude in the classroom, that he would lose me as a friend.
I've compared him to a velociraptor from Jurassic Park - testing everything for weaknesses.
Had our second Changana lesson tonight, and it's really quite fascinating. I'm catching on pretty quickly. Still having trouble understanding some Portuguese, but I have equal trouble getting some English from neighboring countries.
Peace
John
I taught 4 reasonably good lessons to well-behaved students and one bad lesson to "indiciplinados" who just would not be quiet no matter what I did. I kicked Dinho out within 2 minutes because, during my AIDS lecture, he asked "How do you know this information? Have you seen the sick people yourself?" just to make all the other students laugh and make a fool (or try to) out of me. After he left, I actually got some good questions when people realized I was serious.
When I got back home, I chewed him out as best I could (in Portuguese) for disrespecting me and the lesson, for not realizing how serious AIDS is, and just in general for clowning around when he could be helping me out in the classroom. He really is a unique kid here, having lived next to Americans since he was about 10 years old.
I think I made an impression when I said it seemed like he was trying to make friends through his behavior, which he obviously doesn't need to do - and if he kept up being rude in the classroom, that he would lose me as a friend.
I've compared him to a velociraptor from Jurassic Park - testing everything for weaknesses.
Had our second Changana lesson tonight, and it's really quite fascinating. I'm catching on pretty quickly. Still having trouble understanding some Portuguese, but I have equal trouble getting some English from neighboring countries.
Peace
John
2/5/2003
In order to maximize my PC experience, I have decided to write by flashlight tonight and pretend like I don't have electricity (except for the fan blowing on me). Actually, we just lost power a couple times, and I don't want to go through the hassle of fiddling with the light in my room.
Every day for each class, I do a mini-lesson on HIV/AIDS. Today I introduced the fact that 50% of people who have HIV got it before 25 years of age and die before they're 35 (in Mozambique). This prompted quite a few interesting and difficult questions.
I had to reinforce the issue by stating that about 42 million people worldwide have HIV and about 30 millionn of those live in sub-Saharan Africa. One girl asked me "Why do people in Africa, why do so many people, have HIV/AIDS?" All I could say was that it was because people think it doesn't exist, that they can't get it, and they don't use condoms. I ended up saying that I really didn't know, when it became obvious she was trying to look at the big picture: what makes Africa so different? I have even less of an answer for that now than I did before I left the States.
In another class, one student said that his girlfriend didn't want to use a condom. I could only answer that it's possible she's had sex before or while he's been with her - (f--- we just lost electricity again) - and then reiterated the stat about 20% of Mozambicans having HIV or AIDS, and so there's a 1 in 5 chance that someone else she's slept with has HIV. And, ultimately, that he needs to talk with her about this.
Another question was about how a condom protects against HIV infection. I thought it was great that this was brought up in a Bio class, but it raised a whole new set of questions for me - how much good is it doing, preaching condom use, when they don't know how it helps? I think my next mini-lesson will address that and the other questions - the students really seem to take these to heart and see the lesson afterwards as more of a formality - which, admittedly isn't far from what I think. To me, it's more important that they are educated about AIDS and save lives than are biologically superior in their knowledge. I definitely want them to learn, but they have to be healthy and alive to complete their education. We'll see.
Peace
John
Every day for each class, I do a mini-lesson on HIV/AIDS. Today I introduced the fact that 50% of people who have HIV got it before 25 years of age and die before they're 35 (in Mozambique). This prompted quite a few interesting and difficult questions.
I had to reinforce the issue by stating that about 42 million people worldwide have HIV and about 30 millionn of those live in sub-Saharan Africa. One girl asked me "Why do people in Africa, why do so many people, have HIV/AIDS?" All I could say was that it was because people think it doesn't exist, that they can't get it, and they don't use condoms. I ended up saying that I really didn't know, when it became obvious she was trying to look at the big picture: what makes Africa so different? I have even less of an answer for that now than I did before I left the States.
In another class, one student said that his girlfriend didn't want to use a condom. I could only answer that it's possible she's had sex before or while he's been with her - (f--- we just lost electricity again) - and then reiterated the stat about 20% of Mozambicans having HIV or AIDS, and so there's a 1 in 5 chance that someone else she's slept with has HIV. And, ultimately, that he needs to talk with her about this.
Another question was about how a condom protects against HIV infection. I thought it was great that this was brought up in a Bio class, but it raised a whole new set of questions for me - how much good is it doing, preaching condom use, when they don't know how it helps? I think my next mini-lesson will address that and the other questions - the students really seem to take these to heart and see the lesson afterwards as more of a formality - which, admittedly isn't far from what I think. To me, it's more important that they are educated about AIDS and save lives than are biologically superior in their knowledge. I definitely want them to learn, but they have to be healthy and alive to complete their education. We'll see.
Peace
John
2/4/2003
(SO HERE WE GO AGAIN --- I JUST RECEIVED THESE EARLY FEBRUARY ENTRIES IN THE MAIL A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO - BUT BETTER LATE THAN NEVER! MOM)
I battled a wasp today in class, which is mighty entertaining if you're a student watching a foreign teacher getting attacked by a stinging bug. Slightly entertaining for me, too, but all it meant was that the lesson went slower.
Which meant I was a couple minutes late to singing rehearsal, which is in between my 3rd and 4th classes of a 5-class day. We learned a song in Changana today, of which I remember only a few words.
But I learned what a couple of these meant at my first Changana lesson here in town. It's a beautiful language, but just has a different set of sounds that set the foreign speaker very far apart from the native.
And the natives are afraid of wasps, too.
Peace
John
I battled a wasp today in class, which is mighty entertaining if you're a student watching a foreign teacher getting attacked by a stinging bug. Slightly entertaining for me, too, but all it meant was that the lesson went slower.
Which meant I was a couple minutes late to singing rehearsal, which is in between my 3rd and 4th classes of a 5-class day. We learned a song in Changana today, of which I remember only a few words.
But I learned what a couple of these meant at my first Changana lesson here in town. It's a beautiful language, but just has a different set of sounds that set the foreign speaker very far apart from the native.
And the natives are afraid of wasps, too.
Peace
John
Thursday, April 03, 2003
3/5/2003
So we found out why Bert hasn't been around and our Changana tutor didn't show up last night. Bert had another episode lately and the family needed to take care of things. So this guy is certifiably dangerous, and Blake and I are in a tough situation. All we can do is hope he doesn't show up, and if he does, that we can make a legit excuse that doesn't set him off, to not allow him inside the house.
I wanted to try and explain one of the markets here "Senta-baixo". First of all, the name of the market means "Sit down" because it sells ridiculously strong alcohol that, after drinking it, all you want to do is sit.
But this market is more than just a booze warehouse. You can find anything you'd ever want in this market, and everything you'd never want to see or smell.
It's located along the main road through town, stretching about 2-3 city blocks long, and about 1 block deep. If you "shop" on the edge, you find storefronts selling basic needs (soap, flour, TP, etc.), shoestores, used clothing, backpacks, assorted hardware and finally the mother lode of open-air bicycle shops. Each storefront, which is a loose term, is bordered by capulanas suspended with sticks and barbed wire, and good are laid out on stacked and otherwise mutilated boxes. Each stand is about 10-15 feet wide and you can pass without harassment. If you want to buy something, you will.
The bicycle maintenance area is full of people with every conceivable part laid out on the ground, grease in loosely sealed containers, and the day's selection of bikes sitting out in front. For the entire market, at any given moment, there's usually about 5 bikes for sale. Some aren't lemons.
Beyond the bike area is a swath of capulana stores where you can get any pattern of capulana you desire for 40-50 Met. In this area is one of the main entrances to the innards of "Senta-baixo". You pass by more small goods shops as you enter the heart of the market, and people start to be more vocal about peddling their goods. You pass used and "new" clothing stores, and if you look closely, there are small alleys everywhere. Where it seems like there is nobody, because it's surrounded by buying and selling, is anything but. Here, there are various small restaurants and bars, many seeming like small huts. I don't actually know if people live there, but I wouldn't be surprised.
If you keep walking to the inner limit, you pass by the meat market and chicken area. I've been in the meat market once. I've heard that people have been permanently turned off from eating meat by visiting this area, and I can see why.
The chickens are kept in wicker or wire cages, attended by one woman per cage. It, quite literally, smells like shit.
Staying around the perimeter of the market, on the opposite side as the roadside, you visit the entrance to the vegetable and fruit market. Seven foot long sticks hold up patched together rice sacks which provide necessary shade for the hundred or so women (and a few men) who are trying to sell their goods. Paths are, at best, muddy, and combined with having to duck under the sagging makeshift roof and avoiding kids with wheelbarrows and no speed limit, it's quite the physical achievement navigating through this section. Adding to the physical challenge is the mental challenge of telling vendors that you don't need their tomatoes, lemons, okra, onions, masava, couve....and when you arrive at a vendor you'd like to make a purchase from, it gets no easier. Prices are quoted in money per unit, where the unit is a pile or bundle. And you purchase by saying how much money you want to spend, not how many items you'd like. Mental gymnastics on both ends.
After you're done with that, you can leave in the other direction, passing by the fish market, freshly cooked meat section, and finally the hair-care and tobacco department. I like to clean my palette by visiting this section last, as the smell of hairspray is ambrosia to the nose.
Peace
John
I wanted to try and explain one of the markets here "Senta-baixo". First of all, the name of the market means "Sit down" because it sells ridiculously strong alcohol that, after drinking it, all you want to do is sit.
But this market is more than just a booze warehouse. You can find anything you'd ever want in this market, and everything you'd never want to see or smell.
It's located along the main road through town, stretching about 2-3 city blocks long, and about 1 block deep. If you "shop" on the edge, you find storefronts selling basic needs (soap, flour, TP, etc.), shoestores, used clothing, backpacks, assorted hardware and finally the mother lode of open-air bicycle shops. Each storefront, which is a loose term, is bordered by capulanas suspended with sticks and barbed wire, and good are laid out on stacked and otherwise mutilated boxes. Each stand is about 10-15 feet wide and you can pass without harassment. If you want to buy something, you will.
The bicycle maintenance area is full of people with every conceivable part laid out on the ground, grease in loosely sealed containers, and the day's selection of bikes sitting out in front. For the entire market, at any given moment, there's usually about 5 bikes for sale. Some aren't lemons.
Beyond the bike area is a swath of capulana stores where you can get any pattern of capulana you desire for 40-50 Met. In this area is one of the main entrances to the innards of "Senta-baixo". You pass by more small goods shops as you enter the heart of the market, and people start to be more vocal about peddling their goods. You pass used and "new" clothing stores, and if you look closely, there are small alleys everywhere. Where it seems like there is nobody, because it's surrounded by buying and selling, is anything but. Here, there are various small restaurants and bars, many seeming like small huts. I don't actually know if people live there, but I wouldn't be surprised.
If you keep walking to the inner limit, you pass by the meat market and chicken area. I've been in the meat market once. I've heard that people have been permanently turned off from eating meat by visiting this area, and I can see why.
The chickens are kept in wicker or wire cages, attended by one woman per cage. It, quite literally, smells like shit.
Staying around the perimeter of the market, on the opposite side as the roadside, you visit the entrance to the vegetable and fruit market. Seven foot long sticks hold up patched together rice sacks which provide necessary shade for the hundred or so women (and a few men) who are trying to sell their goods. Paths are, at best, muddy, and combined with having to duck under the sagging makeshift roof and avoiding kids with wheelbarrows and no speed limit, it's quite the physical achievement navigating through this section. Adding to the physical challenge is the mental challenge of telling vendors that you don't need their tomatoes, lemons, okra, onions, masava, couve....and when you arrive at a vendor you'd like to make a purchase from, it gets no easier. Prices are quoted in money per unit, where the unit is a pile or bundle. And you purchase by saying how much money you want to spend, not how many items you'd like. Mental gymnastics on both ends.
After you're done with that, you can leave in the other direction, passing by the fish market, freshly cooked meat section, and finally the hair-care and tobacco department. I like to clean my palette by visiting this section last, as the smell of hairspray is ambrosia to the nose.
Peace
John
3/4/2003
Avocados are in season now. And they are awesome. It's been added to the list of foods I didn't really like before coming here and quite possibly may not like back in the States.
It may seem strange, but many of my students here have cellphones. And not strangely, they have a tendency to interrupt class every so often. And I hate it, even more than in the States. Here, people have barely enough money to live and they decide that a cellphone, to talk with people they see every day, is a worthy investment. But they see the culture coming from other African countries and abroad, and it's an attractive culture.
In any case, a cellphone started beeping during class, though I couldn't tell whose it was. It then got handed to some kid who was hiding it, trying to make it stop. I saw this part and took the phone, putting it in my pocket. A couple minutes later it rang, and the person hung up immediately. This is a common practice - called "sending a beep". You call the person back if you have credit (enough money for the call) and if you're free. And because the kid wouldn't acknowedge it was their phone - whoever's it was - I decided to find out.
So I found the number that had been calling and called him back, fully expecting it not to work and end up bluffing a conversation. But it did work, and I told the voice on the other end that I had a student he might want to talk to. So I asked again whose phone it was, which got a very quick response. She jumped up and got the phone, to which I added, "Add leave." I figured that this was enough of a lesson to not bring cellphones, costing someone's credit card and embarrassing her in front of a friend. But I did not make my point strongly enough as she tried desperately to get back into the room to get her things.
It was the last period, and as she had been kicked out of class, was headed home, but not without her bag. I told her she had to wait for the end of the lesson, but she kept knocking and slightly pushing on the door. Finally, she just charged in, grabbed her bag and left. I chased after her and talked pretty loudly with her about what she just did. I asked her name so I could give her a red falta, and she gave me a bogus name.
When I got back to class, I asked the chefe to point out who she was, and he barely knew. So I'm going to talk to Laurenco about the situation and see if I should give the red falta or simply have her speak with him. Given that my actions were unorthodox, if not questionable given that I was spending someone else's money, we may just call it a draw. But giving me a false name? That's pretty BS if you ask me...
Things are heating up in Iraq and Turkey as the US gets even more belligerent and the world lines up "with" or "against". It's strange hearing this all from here, and strangely comical when not bogged down with details. Especially when actors take political stances and they get more attention for their politics than for their acting. And really, are they acting any more if they're just using their power as a vehicle for a statement?
Peace
John
It may seem strange, but many of my students here have cellphones. And not strangely, they have a tendency to interrupt class every so often. And I hate it, even more than in the States. Here, people have barely enough money to live and they decide that a cellphone, to talk with people they see every day, is a worthy investment. But they see the culture coming from other African countries and abroad, and it's an attractive culture.
In any case, a cellphone started beeping during class, though I couldn't tell whose it was. It then got handed to some kid who was hiding it, trying to make it stop. I saw this part and took the phone, putting it in my pocket. A couple minutes later it rang, and the person hung up immediately. This is a common practice - called "sending a beep". You call the person back if you have credit (enough money for the call) and if you're free. And because the kid wouldn't acknowedge it was their phone - whoever's it was - I decided to find out.
So I found the number that had been calling and called him back, fully expecting it not to work and end up bluffing a conversation. But it did work, and I told the voice on the other end that I had a student he might want to talk to. So I asked again whose phone it was, which got a very quick response. She jumped up and got the phone, to which I added, "Add leave." I figured that this was enough of a lesson to not bring cellphones, costing someone's credit card and embarrassing her in front of a friend. But I did not make my point strongly enough as she tried desperately to get back into the room to get her things.
It was the last period, and as she had been kicked out of class, was headed home, but not without her bag. I told her she had to wait for the end of the lesson, but she kept knocking and slightly pushing on the door. Finally, she just charged in, grabbed her bag and left. I chased after her and talked pretty loudly with her about what she just did. I asked her name so I could give her a red falta, and she gave me a bogus name.
When I got back to class, I asked the chefe to point out who she was, and he barely knew. So I'm going to talk to Laurenco about the situation and see if I should give the red falta or simply have her speak with him. Given that my actions were unorthodox, if not questionable given that I was spending someone else's money, we may just call it a draw. But giving me a false name? That's pretty BS if you ask me...
Things are heating up in Iraq and Turkey as the US gets even more belligerent and the world lines up "with" or "against". It's strange hearing this all from here, and strangely comical when not bogged down with details. Especially when actors take political stances and they get more attention for their politics than for their acting. And really, are they acting any more if they're just using their power as a vehicle for a statement?
Peace
John
3/3/2003
For those of you reading this who are interested in African languages, I'm going to try and explain what I understand about Changana so far and how it's unique and beautiful.
The first thing is that verbs are wicked easy, at least right now. To conjugate the present tense, both in its continuous and definite forms, you just conjugate the "to be" verb for the proper subject (1st-3rd person, singular and plural) and add the infinitive. The "to be" conjugation changes for the different present tenses, and stems change for the past tense (we haven't gotten into other tenses) on the infinitive.
A verb is nominalized by prefixing mu- and changing the ending from -a to -i (all verbs end in -a). Additionally, the giver of an action - or the act of giving a certain thing - is expressed by suffixing -isa to the verb and/or noun. For example, "to learn" is "ku dzonda" where "ku" is literally the "to" in "to learn". So I can say "I am learning" by saying "mina ni dzonda" where "mina" is "I", "ni" is the 1st person singular conjugation of "to be" ("ku va") and the infinitive is used as the present participle.
Then, if I wanted to say "I learn", I just have to change the "to be" conjugation like this: "mina na dzondra". Like many of the romance languages, the subject is optional, so I say "na dzondza". And if I want to say "I learned", I use the original "to be" conjugation along with the -ile suffix replacing the -a ending, thus "(mina) ni dzondile".
And so if I want a noun form, or to say "learner", or "student", I can just take the noun and add "mu-" to the beginning replacing the "-a" at the end with "-i" like this: "mudzondzi". Student is "mudzondzi". Here's the cool part: A teacher "gives" learning (or education", so we can add the suffix "-isa" to the verb like this, "ku dzondzisa" which is "to teach". And teacher is thus "mudzondzisi". Plus, there are no articles, so you don't have to worry about "the" or "a", which of course wreaks havoc on kids when they try to learn when to use articles in English.
As far as pronunciation goes, there are five "clicks" corresponding with each vowel sound which even many native speakers cannot properly do. There is an interesting palatal sound that involves holding part of the tongue on the roof of your mouth while allowing air to escape out the sides. And there is a whistle sound that corresponds with the "sw-" sound which is widely used and difficult to imitate. Also, the "dl" combination of consonant sounds ends up being a guttural "ngl" sound.
But the wonderful thing about learning Changana is that since it's a mother tongue to most people here, they understand even the worst pronunciation, and the strangest grammatical structures. Which is what still frustrates me about Portuguese, as they only understand well, pronunciation and structures like their mother tongue (which makes perfect sense as I understand perfectly what other Americans are saying in Portuguese). And I've received compliments on my pronunciation of Changana, whereas I was derided for my Portuguese - and I feel like they both started at the same level.
I know I won't be able to teach in Changana, but I know my relationships with people around here will be greatly enhanced by learning it, and using it outside of school as much as possible.
What did I do today?
Woke up at 6:30
Worked out
Went to school to see if electricity bill was paid
It wasn't
Came back home to get money to pay bill
Didn't have enough
Went to bank to get more
Used ATM, in English
Continued on to electricity office
Waited for the second time of the day (the first being a half-hour for the secretary at school) and studied Changana
After paying bill, went to try and check Email
Waited again
Went back home and ate breakfast, an omelette on day-old bread
Put together tax information for the IRS and mom
Did my laundry
Went to the market with Jorgito to get a fan and some fruit
Got the fan and the fruit
Tried to get bread but the bread store was closed
Got back and ate lunch
Went to school again to see if I could get my students' numbers
Ended up typing up students' numbers for another professor
Checked and sent Email
Got phone cards for our cell phone
Tried to check Emai again, again there was no phone line, again I waited
Got some snacks and finally more bread
Came back, took clothes off the line, translated some Portuguese
Ate dinner, headed out to see the Canadians
Canadians weren't home, so came back and did some writing and reading
Entertained myself with some logic puzzles
Wrote in my journal.
Peace
John
The first thing is that verbs are wicked easy, at least right now. To conjugate the present tense, both in its continuous and definite forms, you just conjugate the "to be" verb for the proper subject (1st-3rd person, singular and plural) and add the infinitive. The "to be" conjugation changes for the different present tenses, and stems change for the past tense (we haven't gotten into other tenses) on the infinitive.
A verb is nominalized by prefixing mu- and changing the ending from -a to -i (all verbs end in -a). Additionally, the giver of an action - or the act of giving a certain thing - is expressed by suffixing -isa to the verb and/or noun. For example, "to learn" is "ku dzonda" where "ku" is literally the "to" in "to learn". So I can say "I am learning" by saying "mina ni dzonda" where "mina" is "I", "ni" is the 1st person singular conjugation of "to be" ("ku va") and the infinitive is used as the present participle.
Then, if I wanted to say "I learn", I just have to change the "to be" conjugation like this: "mina na dzondra". Like many of the romance languages, the subject is optional, so I say "na dzondza". And if I want to say "I learned", I use the original "to be" conjugation along with the -ile suffix replacing the -a ending, thus "(mina) ni dzondile".
And so if I want a noun form, or to say "learner", or "student", I can just take the noun and add "mu-" to the beginning replacing the "-a" at the end with "-i" like this: "mudzondzi". Student is "mudzondzi". Here's the cool part: A teacher "gives" learning (or education", so we can add the suffix "-isa" to the verb like this, "ku dzondzisa" which is "to teach". And teacher is thus "mudzondzisi". Plus, there are no articles, so you don't have to worry about "the" or "a", which of course wreaks havoc on kids when they try to learn when to use articles in English.
As far as pronunciation goes, there are five "clicks" corresponding with each vowel sound which even many native speakers cannot properly do. There is an interesting palatal sound that involves holding part of the tongue on the roof of your mouth while allowing air to escape out the sides. And there is a whistle sound that corresponds with the "sw-" sound which is widely used and difficult to imitate. Also, the "dl" combination of consonant sounds ends up being a guttural "ngl" sound.
But the wonderful thing about learning Changana is that since it's a mother tongue to most people here, they understand even the worst pronunciation, and the strangest grammatical structures. Which is what still frustrates me about Portuguese, as they only understand well, pronunciation and structures like their mother tongue (which makes perfect sense as I understand perfectly what other Americans are saying in Portuguese). And I've received compliments on my pronunciation of Changana, whereas I was derided for my Portuguese - and I feel like they both started at the same level.
I know I won't be able to teach in Changana, but I know my relationships with people around here will be greatly enhanced by learning it, and using it outside of school as much as possible.
What did I do today?
Woke up at 6:30
Worked out
Went to school to see if electricity bill was paid
It wasn't
Came back home to get money to pay bill
Didn't have enough
Went to bank to get more
Used ATM, in English
Continued on to electricity office
Waited for the second time of the day (the first being a half-hour for the secretary at school) and studied Changana
After paying bill, went to try and check Email
Waited again
Went back home and ate breakfast, an omelette on day-old bread
Put together tax information for the IRS and mom
Did my laundry
Went to the market with Jorgito to get a fan and some fruit
Got the fan and the fruit
Tried to get bread but the bread store was closed
Got back and ate lunch
Went to school again to see if I could get my students' numbers
Ended up typing up students' numbers for another professor
Checked and sent Email
Got phone cards for our cell phone
Tried to check Emai again, again there was no phone line, again I waited
Got some snacks and finally more bread
Came back, took clothes off the line, translated some Portuguese
Ate dinner, headed out to see the Canadians
Canadians weren't home, so came back and did some writing and reading
Entertained myself with some logic puzzles
Wrote in my journal.
Peace
John
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