Yesterday started and ended very well. In the morning was a meeting with all of the HIV/AIDS organizations in town and there were about 7 people representing 4 organizations. This may seem like a lot for an African town, but there are actually about 25 organizations we didn't have there. The next meeting is scheduled to be in two weeks, and there's a ton of enthusiasm about getting a bunch of other organizations on board. Since it's only been one meeting, it doesn't actually mean anything, but there are too many people too involved in this to give up. It's exciting!
After the meeting, I went to Chris' school where it was a holiday - just for the school - and they were having a beauty pageant and HUGE party afterwards. Jake, Chris and I helped judge the pageant which was quite the spectacle. 8th to 10th grade girls (ages 15-20), came out in various outfits, from African traditional wear to swimsuits. It is all very well choreographed and even the losers seem to have a blast just because they're there. And I think we've dropped our American instincts of being automatically wary of being completely superficial watching our own students in various states of undress. Plus, there were some great (and horrible) dance and theater routines in between rounds of the competition. It lasted about 5 hours, which is actually not that long.
Afterwards, just about every turma at Chris' school pitched in to cook and get a DJ, so they could have a private party. They only allowed members of their own turma, but as there are three floors and about 6 classrooms on each floor of his school, there were plenty of people wandering about looking for an open door. It felt just like a state university packed into a Mozambican high school. Except, being Americans, Chris and I got into every party we wanted to. We got fed very well - and because it was put in front of me, I ended up eating two breasts of chicken, but had to pass on the beef. Really, quite a fun party all told. We didn't even have the energy to go to the discoteca afterwards.
This morning I went to the hotel at his site and asked to make a reservation for when my mother visits me. Turns out they only make reservations a week ahead of time, but I helped the guy at the front desk with his Biology studying, one of the waiters with his English, and practiced my Changana with another waiter. I think it's very easy to reinvent yourself speaking another language, much easier than just changing where you live, basic philosophies, etc.
In any case, I got some good analytical thinking in on education here. Taking a step back, I've noticed that it's nearly impossible for me to use metaphors when teaching. I asked myself why this is, and it's clearly that they memorize the metaphor. But the next step in the logical progression is the endpoint - that they copy everything the teacher does. I've been trying to look past this and figure out WHY they copy, but now I know that's unimportant. All that really matters is that they are taught from a VERY early age to copy their teacher and so everything else follows. They copy each other not because they don't have confidence in their own answer (they don't) or because they didn't study (again, they don't), but because the answer of the student sitting next to them is just as good as what could come out of their mouth. Since all that's being asked is to repeat information, there's only one correct answer and it's a copy of what the teacher gave. The teacher is asking the student to copy what they say - so what's the difference if they decide to copy what another student says is a copy of what the teacher said? Cheating is shunned so intensely in the States because understanding is so highly valued and copying means you don't understand. So what initially seems like two major problems, learning styles and cheating, are really one gigantic problem for American teachers here. Not that I have any good answers for it yet.
This is going to be a short, but busy week. Things with Diamentino should be sorted out, the latest activities with my activists should come to a head, English classes will go full steam ahead, my help with the PC training program will be handed over, and a bunch of house projects are on the docket for this weekend.
Here we go!
Peace
John
Sunday, September 28, 2003
09/06/2003
I think I'm getting used to Africa time. We were supposed to meet at 7 AM, instead ending up leaving at 9:30 to play handball an hour away. When we got there, it was raining, so I and one of my students caught a ride to the beach about 30 minutes away. It was his first time to the beach, and so he collected some sand in a Ziploc I brought with me. We devoured the two sandwiches I'd made, got back, played the game, then got some fresh cashews before leaving.
The game was fairly uneventful. I played decently well after getting my bearings but was infinitely frustrated with our defence. It was simply lazy, which I think happens becuase sports here are more for show, than for results. I got laughed at plenty for trying hard and screwing up whereas the players who weren't trying all that hard but making risky and nice-looking passes caught the oohs and aahs. As must as this bugs me because I'm used to being judged on effort and not aesthetics, it's a welcome relief from the win-oriented American style. Though I get the feeling a Mozambican would be similarly relieved in an American system. Certainly, there's some middle ground?
That aside, it was a nice day to walk around and really appreciate the country. I saw small things, like gardens and private houses that I've passed by many times but never really seen before.
Walking near the beach, we saw this one house built on a hill. Typical Colonial Portuguese architecture with a twist. The master bedroom was built on a second level, giving it a fantastic view of the lagoon. Outside, a beautifully manicured garden, fenced in and guarded, made me lose my bearings. Where was I, really? Could this, in fact, be Mozambique? How confusing is the face of poverty? It occurred to me how easy the lives of these people must be, but they still buy the same rice, the same flour.
Walking around my own town (in fact, a city), I came to realize how willfully I've been dispensing amenities. Nimi and I ate a chocolate bar together while he bought restaurant-style hot sauce and we watched newer cars goes by. Granted, the cars were stolen, the hot sauce was ridiculously expensive, and the chocolate was pretty standard - but that same store even had cheese. Refrigerated. It's a good thing I can't afford it.
Diamentino essentially admitted that he stole the money. We just have to get it back now.
An open call for HIV/AIDS workers in C--- to come and get to know other workers happens tomorrow morning. I hope it's a success.
Pretty soon, it will be one year since I left Cleveland. They say missing home gets easier, but that's only because you get closer every day to returning to it.
I watched "Traffic" and "Air Rage" tonight at the Macias'. I forgot how true "Traffic"'s message of changing the social structure of modern families to combat drugs really is. I also forgot how bad movies can be, something "Air Rage" reminded me of. But Dinho enjoyed it, even though I had to explain the plot (the subtitles go too fast for most people here to read). Goofy violence seems to be pretty popular.
Peace
John
The game was fairly uneventful. I played decently well after getting my bearings but was infinitely frustrated with our defence. It was simply lazy, which I think happens becuase sports here are more for show, than for results. I got laughed at plenty for trying hard and screwing up whereas the players who weren't trying all that hard but making risky and nice-looking passes caught the oohs and aahs. As must as this bugs me because I'm used to being judged on effort and not aesthetics, it's a welcome relief from the win-oriented American style. Though I get the feeling a Mozambican would be similarly relieved in an American system. Certainly, there's some middle ground?
That aside, it was a nice day to walk around and really appreciate the country. I saw small things, like gardens and private houses that I've passed by many times but never really seen before.
Walking near the beach, we saw this one house built on a hill. Typical Colonial Portuguese architecture with a twist. The master bedroom was built on a second level, giving it a fantastic view of the lagoon. Outside, a beautifully manicured garden, fenced in and guarded, made me lose my bearings. Where was I, really? Could this, in fact, be Mozambique? How confusing is the face of poverty? It occurred to me how easy the lives of these people must be, but they still buy the same rice, the same flour.
Walking around my own town (in fact, a city), I came to realize how willfully I've been dispensing amenities. Nimi and I ate a chocolate bar together while he bought restaurant-style hot sauce and we watched newer cars goes by. Granted, the cars were stolen, the hot sauce was ridiculously expensive, and the chocolate was pretty standard - but that same store even had cheese. Refrigerated. It's a good thing I can't afford it.
Diamentino essentially admitted that he stole the money. We just have to get it back now.
An open call for HIV/AIDS workers in C--- to come and get to know other workers happens tomorrow morning. I hope it's a success.
Pretty soon, it will be one year since I left Cleveland. They say missing home gets easier, but that's only because you get closer every day to returning to it.
I watched "Traffic" and "Air Rage" tonight at the Macias'. I forgot how true "Traffic"'s message of changing the social structure of modern families to combat drugs really is. I also forgot how bad movies can be, something "Air Rage" reminded me of. But Dinho enjoyed it, even though I had to explain the plot (the subtitles go too fast for most people here to read). Goofy violence seems to be pretty popular.
Peace
John
09/05/2003
At 11:30 today, I went to the HIV testing center, meeting 7 of my activists there. We watched a video about a woman who is living with AIDS and the social issues she deals with every day. It was pretty sad, but to cheer us up, was followed closely by a video about a couple who were debating going to the testing center. It was a good mix of typical Mozambican discussions, humor, and facts regarding the testing center. It was believably acted and didn't use elevated language.
My students enjoyed the videos, then we all piled into the counseling room to go over what a typical session is like, and what the students can tell other students about the testing center. It was a great experience - 3 of the students had done the test the day before and 3 more did it that day. They're pretty excited about going to the hospital for AIDS patients next Friday. All told, it seems like they are becoming more confident in their abilities to help others and not just simply memorizing information. They get frustrated from time to time that things seem to go slowly, but I tell them that they need to show up on time!
It's thundering outside. We're in the middle of a good-sized storm, but hopefully that doesn't mean the house will get flooded. It leaks like a sieve.
Reminds me of going through the car wash in my father's old Studebaker for the first (and last) time. Due to an unfortunate combination of old weather-stripping and general lack of foresight as to the existence of jet-powered car washes in 1962, we inside the car were cleaned just as well. We had a box of Kleenex, but we might as well have been trying to stop a dam.
Now, in this house, water comes in a broken window (broken by wind, nonetheless), through the ceiling, and through the gaps in the doors. There's really no stopping it, only hoping it doesn't break something.
Good, busy week.
Peace
John
My students enjoyed the videos, then we all piled into the counseling room to go over what a typical session is like, and what the students can tell other students about the testing center. It was a great experience - 3 of the students had done the test the day before and 3 more did it that day. They're pretty excited about going to the hospital for AIDS patients next Friday. All told, it seems like they are becoming more confident in their abilities to help others and not just simply memorizing information. They get frustrated from time to time that things seem to go slowly, but I tell them that they need to show up on time!
It's thundering outside. We're in the middle of a good-sized storm, but hopefully that doesn't mean the house will get flooded. It leaks like a sieve.
Reminds me of going through the car wash in my father's old Studebaker for the first (and last) time. Due to an unfortunate combination of old weather-stripping and general lack of foresight as to the existence of jet-powered car washes in 1962, we inside the car were cleaned just as well. We had a box of Kleenex, but we might as well have been trying to stop a dam.
Now, in this house, water comes in a broken window (broken by wind, nonetheless), through the ceiling, and through the gaps in the doors. There's really no stopping it, only hoping it doesn't break something.
Good, busy week.
Peace
John
09/04/2003
It's insatiable, this need to write. I think of or see something interesting and the journal is the first place I turn. I'm a junkie, and my addiction is quite healthy.
Diamentino robbed us yesterday of about $20 (big deal here). I dropped a note off in his house but have been unable to find him. Shit will hit the fan tomorrow. What this means for projects we were working on, I don't know, but Blake and I are tired of his crap.
Speaking of crap, my students certainly give me plenty of it. You have to have fun though - so I use Changana and English, random extra materials, pick on students who talk during class, make jokes straight-faced (which are now received fairly well), break cultural norms blatantly and knowingly, etc. But if 30 minutes of conducting the symphony of information known as a lesson leads to one concept being understood by 50% of the students, I'm ecstatic.
I get disheartened when I hear other teachers teach to memorize, because I know that that just reinforces the idea that intelligence = facts. But Alfred watched my teach today and commented on the interactive style, even though he couldn't understand most of what was going on. He said that that's how Zimbabwean teachers are trained.
Well, sleep has announced itself with no subtlety tonight. Think lots of bricks...
Peace
John
Diamentino robbed us yesterday of about $20 (big deal here). I dropped a note off in his house but have been unable to find him. Shit will hit the fan tomorrow. What this means for projects we were working on, I don't know, but Blake and I are tired of his crap.
Speaking of crap, my students certainly give me plenty of it. You have to have fun though - so I use Changana and English, random extra materials, pick on students who talk during class, make jokes straight-faced (which are now received fairly well), break cultural norms blatantly and knowingly, etc. But if 30 minutes of conducting the symphony of information known as a lesson leads to one concept being understood by 50% of the students, I'm ecstatic.
I get disheartened when I hear other teachers teach to memorize, because I know that that just reinforces the idea that intelligence = facts. But Alfred watched my teach today and commented on the interactive style, even though he couldn't understand most of what was going on. He said that that's how Zimbabwean teachers are trained.
Well, sleep has announced itself with no subtlety tonight. Think lots of bricks...
Peace
John
09/03/2003
It seems a shame to pick one emotion or moment from any single day and sell it as being representative. I go through the entire range on any given day - I got quite angry today and I was also quite happy and random. I gave an impromptu Portuguese lesson to a new English teacher, even translating some Changana for him (he's from Zimbabwe). I gave a couple practical lessons on seeds and the two major plant types (monocots and dicots). I organized an all-C... HIV/AIDS meeting for Sunday. These were very pleasing activities. But I was also washing dishes for a while and thinking about how many projects I'm involved in. My student activists want to visit the HIV testing center and the hospital where AIDS patients stay. I have 3 English lessons tomorrow and no lesson plan. I'm trying to accommodate one more group for the English lessons.
All this in one day.
Not to mention cooking a couple meals, doing work for the PC language program, 2 hours of handball, and running a couple errands.
Every day I question my presence here, miss people from home, and learn something new. I ride a rollercoaster from the moment I wake up, never knowing what to expect from the day.
Peace
John
All this in one day.
Not to mention cooking a couple meals, doing work for the PC language program, 2 hours of handball, and running a couple errands.
Every day I question my presence here, miss people from home, and learn something new. I ride a rollercoaster from the moment I wake up, never knowing what to expect from the day.
Peace
John
09/02/2003
Wow. It's 11 months to the day that I arrived in Mozambique - and my birthday. What a birthday it was, too.
People really expect you to tell them a week ahead of time that your day is coming up, because they love to prepare and make it special - students and neighbors mostly. People were asking me all day why I didn't announce it - but coming from an American perspective, it just isn't something I would go around announcing. I suppose it's something to look forward to next year.
So anyway, Dinho, Violeta, Jurcia, Albertino, Jorgito, Charles, Annie and Blake got together and baked cakes and took pictures of us eating them. We drank filtered water and listened to the same CDs, talking and laughing about the same stuff, sitting in a room much too small and cluttered. In other words, fantastic. It really felt like family, yelling at Dinho to stop messing around with the music and listening to Jorgito's half-rehearsed, half-improvised birthday song for snare drum (played on a large book with chopsticks).
And in school, I was sung to endlessly, asked tons of questions like, "Are you married?", "Do you have kids?", "How long did you study?", "Where in the US are you from?", "How old are you now?", and in one class, even lifted up by about 10 boys, threatening to carry me out and about school. I managed to get down before being carried out the door, and trying to explain to other teachers that, well, they were just having fun.
I wore my tux almost all day, to mark the occasion, and though everyone laughed, it was a good laugh. They've never seen me so dressed up. I got calls from half a kilometer away by students who could tell today's dress was a little different.
But, as Charles pointed out, you miss home in a different way on your birthday. There's a certain comfort in the way your friends and family celebrate it - even when one of your friends completely forgets (and I count myself in that group), the way you recover is completely different. And maybe you don't get lifted up by a dozen teenagers every time, but being able to reminisce about "last year" is worth its weight in gold.
Still a great day!
Peace
John
People really expect you to tell them a week ahead of time that your day is coming up, because they love to prepare and make it special - students and neighbors mostly. People were asking me all day why I didn't announce it - but coming from an American perspective, it just isn't something I would go around announcing. I suppose it's something to look forward to next year.
So anyway, Dinho, Violeta, Jurcia, Albertino, Jorgito, Charles, Annie and Blake got together and baked cakes and took pictures of us eating them. We drank filtered water and listened to the same CDs, talking and laughing about the same stuff, sitting in a room much too small and cluttered. In other words, fantastic. It really felt like family, yelling at Dinho to stop messing around with the music and listening to Jorgito's half-rehearsed, half-improvised birthday song for snare drum (played on a large book with chopsticks).
And in school, I was sung to endlessly, asked tons of questions like, "Are you married?", "Do you have kids?", "How long did you study?", "Where in the US are you from?", "How old are you now?", and in one class, even lifted up by about 10 boys, threatening to carry me out and about school. I managed to get down before being carried out the door, and trying to explain to other teachers that, well, they were just having fun.
I wore my tux almost all day, to mark the occasion, and though everyone laughed, it was a good laugh. They've never seen me so dressed up. I got calls from half a kilometer away by students who could tell today's dress was a little different.
But, as Charles pointed out, you miss home in a different way on your birthday. There's a certain comfort in the way your friends and family celebrate it - even when one of your friends completely forgets (and I count myself in that group), the way you recover is completely different. And maybe you don't get lifted up by a dozen teenagers every time, but being able to reminisce about "last year" is worth its weight in gold.
Still a great day!
Peace
John
09/01/2003
I was standing in front of the class, waiting patiently. I had already chewed out several students for sitting in the back (they were avoiding the sun) and one more for a) forgetting his notebook, b) demonstrating his inability to listen, c) demonstrating his lack of desire, and d) purposefully not trying to answer a very easy question.
So my patient waiting was still tinged with frustration. I had asked a swath of about 20 girls (no exaggeration) to answer a VERY easy question. I only needed one of them. I had drawn a seed on the board, having three parts. We had already labeled two parts and said the name of the third. All I wanted from her was to point to the third part.
One girl got up and came with me to the board. She pointed to the completely wrong place. I explained again very slowly and simply where the three parts were and whic we had identified. Again, she identified the SAME incorrect part. I asked for help.
The "chefe" of the turma came up to her after I asked for someone to explain. He strode up to her and caringly explained the question in dialect. He then restated the question and gave the answer, making her look good and taking the pressure off any other students. It was nice to see, but frustrating.
I gave her the simplest of tasks - it was below what I would consider "learning", but she was incapable simply because she only knows how to parrot. And she's not alone.
How do I start with nothing?
Peace
John
So my patient waiting was still tinged with frustration. I had asked a swath of about 20 girls (no exaggeration) to answer a VERY easy question. I only needed one of them. I had drawn a seed on the board, having three parts. We had already labeled two parts and said the name of the third. All I wanted from her was to point to the third part.
One girl got up and came with me to the board. She pointed to the completely wrong place. I explained again very slowly and simply where the three parts were and whic we had identified. Again, she identified the SAME incorrect part. I asked for help.
The "chefe" of the turma came up to her after I asked for someone to explain. He strode up to her and caringly explained the question in dialect. He then restated the question and gave the answer, making her look good and taking the pressure off any other students. It was nice to see, but frustrating.
I gave her the simplest of tasks - it was below what I would consider "learning", but she was incapable simply because she only knows how to parrot. And she's not alone.
How do I start with nothing?
Peace
John
08/31/2003
Let's say, for instance, that the idea of a "ball", a spherical, fist-sized object, is universal. That is to say, it exists in every baby's brain and will be manifested differently depending on what language this child is given to speak. I'm supposing a very Platonic universal schema for seeing the world, but given what we know about the human brain, it seems that there truly are built-in schemas for these ideas, such as balls.
It would be a very inefficient system if, say, confronted with a marble, the baby tried to construct an entirely new schema for a marble. But we use known items. By now, the baby has an idea of large and small, and will say that the marble is a small ball. At some point, the idea of "glass" will be derived from clear things I can touch, etc. And so eventually a small glass ball gets its own word, a "marble".
Interestingly, it seems, once we get a certain number of ideas in our head, it becomes more difficult to construct a schema of something new in our head. There are hundreds of different ways to think about a "marble" in the adult brain - for instance: large, smooth pebble; one in a set of marbles; etc. But if we want to talk to someone about the colors of our marbles, the schema of "marble" has to be adequately constructed. A "marble" cannot be "white round thing" in the complicated adult brain. Essentially, in order to communicate properly, two brains need to construct different schemas for the same objects in very similar manners. If two brains are talking about two different things, communication will never happen.
So here's the trap of education. In Biology, the "marble" is a type of leaf, the way the roots take up water, or how a seed becomes a full-grown plant. There are two major ways that these ideas can be transmitted. The first, and most common, is to simply memorize the words, essentially constructing a schema out of letters and phrases. The second, and an expressed goal of education, is to use the learner's current knowledge of cells, growth, roots, water, leaves, etc., and put these ideas together in a new way and give it a new name.
The danger in the second manner is that the schema is explicitly taught and so the learners simply copy the teacher's schema. It makes sense to the learner, the teacher and can often be tested immediately to demonstrate knowledge. But knowledge acquired by imitating doesn't stick as well as if the learner is forced to create their own schema.
As Fosnot said, there are two main approaches to having the learner create these schemas. The first is to let the learner create a schema and then let them discover if and why it is wrong, correcting their own errors. The second is to moderate the schema, building one slow step at a time. In reality, both are slow processes.
But because it is possible to feign knowledge of a great many things, education is often seen as a quantity and not quality of knowledge. Which then causes curricula to be created that are overambitious and do not allow for this assisted schema-building which can create truly educated people.
So while I'm still introducing "marbles" to my students, slowly and one at a time, I'm giving them a crack at the whole curriculum. Maybe I can give them enough practice at schema building that they, if motivated, can practice it on their own.
Peace
John
It would be a very inefficient system if, say, confronted with a marble, the baby tried to construct an entirely new schema for a marble. But we use known items. By now, the baby has an idea of large and small, and will say that the marble is a small ball. At some point, the idea of "glass" will be derived from clear things I can touch, etc. And so eventually a small glass ball gets its own word, a "marble".
Interestingly, it seems, once we get a certain number of ideas in our head, it becomes more difficult to construct a schema of something new in our head. There are hundreds of different ways to think about a "marble" in the adult brain - for instance: large, smooth pebble; one in a set of marbles; etc. But if we want to talk to someone about the colors of our marbles, the schema of "marble" has to be adequately constructed. A "marble" cannot be "white round thing" in the complicated adult brain. Essentially, in order to communicate properly, two brains need to construct different schemas for the same objects in very similar manners. If two brains are talking about two different things, communication will never happen.
So here's the trap of education. In Biology, the "marble" is a type of leaf, the way the roots take up water, or how a seed becomes a full-grown plant. There are two major ways that these ideas can be transmitted. The first, and most common, is to simply memorize the words, essentially constructing a schema out of letters and phrases. The second, and an expressed goal of education, is to use the learner's current knowledge of cells, growth, roots, water, leaves, etc., and put these ideas together in a new way and give it a new name.
The danger in the second manner is that the schema is explicitly taught and so the learners simply copy the teacher's schema. It makes sense to the learner, the teacher and can often be tested immediately to demonstrate knowledge. But knowledge acquired by imitating doesn't stick as well as if the learner is forced to create their own schema.
As Fosnot said, there are two main approaches to having the learner create these schemas. The first is to let the learner create a schema and then let them discover if and why it is wrong, correcting their own errors. The second is to moderate the schema, building one slow step at a time. In reality, both are slow processes.
But because it is possible to feign knowledge of a great many things, education is often seen as a quantity and not quality of knowledge. Which then causes curricula to be created that are overambitious and do not allow for this assisted schema-building which can create truly educated people.
So while I'm still introducing "marbles" to my students, slowly and one at a time, I'm giving them a crack at the whole curriculum. Maybe I can give them enough practice at schema building that they, if motivated, can practice it on their own.
Peace
John
08/30/2003
I'm not quite sure why, but I've felt very lucky to have a college degree. I never, at any point, felt I worked hard specifically for the degree, because I was always working hard in an individual subject, trying to get my mind around the material. There was an end goal in mind, but it never felt like a piece of paper - or even the idea of a diploma - could be a proper manifestation of multiple individual battles. Now, with some time and plenty of distance behind me, I'm seeing that. I'm seeing that, indeed, it's one of the few hard copies, or proof, that you've worked your ass off. And sometimes, though idealistically not necessary, this proof is very necessary to keep you going through months of recognition-less work. Even the idea of recognition grates on me, admitting that what others think, is necessary to internal success. But when you're doing things for other people, there are no other measures.
I think that's my step back from the wall for today. I don't know that I have had enough time to take a good, long look for a few weeks.
Friday was extremely busy, including spending almost three hours hand-writing a proposal after the town lost power, and the computer lab essentially was reduced to a very expensive small room.
Falling asleep at the work table had one advantage, though - mefloquine-induced dreams. I even had my first Changana dream, a result of speaking more and more of it every day, learning new words all the time. Pretty cool, because it started off in Portuguese.
As a result of all this local language learning, however, I'm noticing that my Portuguese is pretty stagnant. I suppose there's an upper limit as to how much language one can take in. Though I think it only applies to speaking, or it's that the understanding half hasn't hit the wall just yet. I'm understanding a LOT more Portuguese than I did just a few months ago - and Changana.
Peace
John
I think that's my step back from the wall for today. I don't know that I have had enough time to take a good, long look for a few weeks.
Friday was extremely busy, including spending almost three hours hand-writing a proposal after the town lost power, and the computer lab essentially was reduced to a very expensive small room.
Falling asleep at the work table had one advantage, though - mefloquine-induced dreams. I even had my first Changana dream, a result of speaking more and more of it every day, learning new words all the time. Pretty cool, because it started off in Portuguese.
As a result of all this local language learning, however, I'm noticing that my Portuguese is pretty stagnant. I suppose there's an upper limit as to how much language one can take in. Though I think it only applies to speaking, or it's that the understanding half hasn't hit the wall just yet. I'm understanding a LOT more Portuguese than I did just a few months ago - and Changana.
Peace
John
Tuesday, September 09, 2003
08/20/2003
Some days can only be explained by listing the events of the day, then some time later, when there's time, explain:
6:00 Wake up
6:20 Wash dishes, take shower
6:50 Leave for police station where Diamentino's sister is supposed to meet us.
7:30 Without her, I go up to courtroom to see what's going on
7:40 Have lengthy argument over legal processes, including the public right to see the charges brought against the prisoner, but back off before causing a big scene.
8:00 Report back to Blake, who hasn't seen Diamentino's sister, that it looks like D will have a hearing today or tomorrow and a possible trial on Friday.
8:20 Arrive at D's sister's house, nobody around, so continue on to see if I can find the multilingual and well-traveled Reverend Wilson.
8:30 A friend of D's finds me and says that D is in the courtoom and they're waiting for me.
8:40 Arrive in waiting room, where said friend and sister are waiting.
8:50 Diamentino enters the secretary's office
9:20 He's released, but restricted to the district. Cheers and confusion.
9:40 Make myself breakfast.
10:00 Young many heading up an HIV/AIDS group arrives. We talk for a while.
10:50 Go out to talk to VUKOXA and buy coconuts.
11:00 Arrive at VUKOXA, talk...
11:30 Return home with coconuts, rush to go to school and...
11:40 Have meeting with HIV/AIDS activists until...
12:45 My first class starts and I'm in classes until...
3:10 When I go home to grab lunch, then at...
3:40 Go check mail and buy bread, returning home about...
4:15 So I can go back to school.
4:20 Teach my last two lessons.
5:55 Go back to VUKOXA
6:00 Enroll a couple more people in the classes while doing schoolwork.
7:30 Eat dinner that Blake brought to VUKOXA for me.
8:45 And then return home so I can do more schoolwork, then...
9:30 Talk with Eric for an hour,
10:30 Finish up work and finally
11:30 Go to bed.
I'm getting up at 6 AM again tomorrow.
Peace
John
6:00 Wake up
6:20 Wash dishes, take shower
6:50 Leave for police station where Diamentino's sister is supposed to meet us.
7:30 Without her, I go up to courtroom to see what's going on
7:40 Have lengthy argument over legal processes, including the public right to see the charges brought against the prisoner, but back off before causing a big scene.
8:00 Report back to Blake, who hasn't seen Diamentino's sister, that it looks like D will have a hearing today or tomorrow and a possible trial on Friday.
8:20 Arrive at D's sister's house, nobody around, so continue on to see if I can find the multilingual and well-traveled Reverend Wilson.
8:30 A friend of D's finds me and says that D is in the courtoom and they're waiting for me.
8:40 Arrive in waiting room, where said friend and sister are waiting.
8:50 Diamentino enters the secretary's office
9:20 He's released, but restricted to the district. Cheers and confusion.
9:40 Make myself breakfast.
10:00 Young many heading up an HIV/AIDS group arrives. We talk for a while.
10:50 Go out to talk to VUKOXA and buy coconuts.
11:00 Arrive at VUKOXA, talk...
11:30 Return home with coconuts, rush to go to school and...
11:40 Have meeting with HIV/AIDS activists until...
12:45 My first class starts and I'm in classes until...
3:10 When I go home to grab lunch, then at...
3:40 Go check mail and buy bread, returning home about...
4:15 So I can go back to school.
4:20 Teach my last two lessons.
5:55 Go back to VUKOXA
6:00 Enroll a couple more people in the classes while doing schoolwork.
7:30 Eat dinner that Blake brought to VUKOXA for me.
8:45 And then return home so I can do more schoolwork, then...
9:30 Talk with Eric for an hour,
10:30 Finish up work and finally
11:30 Go to bed.
I'm getting up at 6 AM again tomorrow.
Peace
John
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