Volunteering was the real reason for our visit to Tanzania—and something that we both enjoyed.
This part two of our series describes our efforts, including Eli’s work with disabled children, Claire’s work with little nippers, and our joint—although driven principally by Claire’s—efforts building a house for a girl named Anna.
Eli teaching Swahili to disabled children
Eli here.
I’m not a teacher and my Swahili is not flash—but that just made working with disabled children all the more fun.
There were eight kids at the Building A Caring Community (BCC) centre where I volunteered, ranging in age from five to 19—and all had some form of intellectual disability. Some had epilepsy. Others could not speak and use their arms freely. And all had learning difficulties. But they were great kids, full of humour and energy.
The centre was actually a school housed in a small shed with two rooms—one was a classroom decorated with pictures and words, the other was a teachers’ room. Set in a yard donated by a local church group, the shed was supported by a barely-used playground (with swings and seesaws), an unused garden plot, and a well-used kitchen shack. There were just enough desks, some colourful teaching aids, and a rather large collection of toys that were donated over the years.
My task was to play with and teach the kids along with another volunteer, Emma—and in Swahili no less. The teacher—whom the kids called ‘mama’—was a lovely lady who guided our teaching. She was a little moody though. One minute she was attentive and happy. The next she was sitting in the corner of the room dreaming of a far off land. But generally the days worked well.
A typical day went like this: meet the kids, brush their teeth, and then ask their mood, the day of the week, and the current weather conditions. Next we sung religious songs with percussion instruments fashioned out of tins full of bottle caps or old coke bottles full of rice and nails until breakfast was ready—which was usually maize flour porridge called uji.
After eating, we read, coloured-in (mostly across lines), drew pictures without structure, or played with army men, Lego, or coloured bocks. During this time, one kid—Eriki—was particularly partial to playing with a spinning top—which he called “small thing”—where he would stand over it on all fours and twist and turn as it moved around the floor.
Later we played outside. Bubbles were blown. Balls were bounced. Skipping-ropes were skipped. And kids were kids. Once we even got to play on the swings. It was during these times that the kids’ true personalities shone. Some were very quiet and in their own worlds. Others ran around like they were on speed. I often ran around too—which wasn’t the best idea as it meant that those kids (apparently) on speed tendered to overdose a little...
But the most action-packed times came when mama was away—which, incidentally, was quite often. The kids, sensing our inexperience and knowing our lack of Swahili, would rise from whatever slumber they were in and play up. Dotto would tease Yohanna who would hit her back. Dividi, who could not speak or walk but was always good for a laugh, would turn on his A-game by following the two fighting girls around on the ground, pointing and laughing. This would only encourage Dotto and Yohanna further until one (or both) ended up crying. Sometimes other kids were brought into the action.
Emma and I tried several strategies to calm the action from physical restraint to complete ignorance. But none were entirely successful. In the end, we just accepted the behaviour and focused on the kids who were behaving nicely.
Finally, lunch was ready—which followed a schedule. On alternate days we ate rice with beans and ugali with tomato, meat, and vegetables. And although bland, in was nutritious. Once a week we ate ugali with deep-fried fish—which the kids ate whole, including bones and eyes. We also got bananas, oranges, and mango for desert. Onetime we ate fried banana stew—a dish lacking in flavour and quite tough.
To me, the food was great. And although poverty is everywhere here, the centre still managed to feed Emma and me—which I did not expect, but was more than grateful for. But, by far, the most important part was seeing the satisfaction on the kids’ faces as they ate meals that (we suspected) they would not get at home.
After lunch I went home while the kids slept, awaiting their family members to pick them up. And it was hard to say good-bye, especially on my last day. I had gotten to know the kids well and still miss many of their mannerisms.
Claire playing with nursery kids
Claire here
Tanzanian Children’s Concern (TCC) is a church based charity which has partnered with (Hostel Hoff owner) Amanda’s charity. They have raised enough money to build a school and she is in the process of building a children’s home.
TCC School is fee paying school which uses the fees those who can afford it pay to fund children with no chance at school attendance to also attend. It is unusual in that it is a nursery and primary school taught in English. Usually primary school in Tanzania is taught in Swahili and high school in English. TCC hopes that its students will have a better chance of success at high school if they start learn in English from the beginning.
Unfortunately, because they haven’t built all the new classrooms, the nursery and junior classes are still on an old site—which basically consists of a couple of brick classrooms in a very dusty / muddy (depending on the weather) piece of land.
The babies class which I was helping out in had 29 kids aged between (I think) 3 and 6 and one teacher. Even the teacher didn’t seem to know exactly how old the kids were. The school system in Tanzania doesn’t seem to have changed much since colonial times. Rote learning, repetition memorising, and the odd bit of corporal punishment are all still alive and well and resources consist of a blackboard and chalk.
The teacher would have been quite happy for me to take over the whole class and let her have a little sleep. But I decided it would be best if I took the 10 kids who were struggling the most (the littlest ones) and tried to get them up to speed. So I took some desks outside and had a makeshift classroom.
I had some paper and pencils, a couple of story books, some bottle-tops for counting, and a repertoire of nursery rhymes sung out of tune. We focussed mostly on counting and learning letters doing pretty much variations of the same thing every day with fun and cuddles thrown in. The kids thought I was crazy at first. What was this draw anything you like caper? They were used to than copying a prescribed picture off the blackboard. And standing on your chair demonstrating how tall a giraffe is, never!
The teacher was clearly concerned with my methods, but left me to it as I’d made her life easier by reducing her class size by a third. The kids soon caught on and we had quite a lot of fun as well as learning something. The day teacher called some of my kids up to write numbers on the blackboard and they could all write up to at least five—which seemed to vindicate me. And the kids were definitely a bit more confident and engaged in school by the end of my time.
Building houses
Well only one really...for a girl named Anna.
Many of you who read this blog already know Anna’s story. But for those who don’t here’s what happened.
Amanda, who runs Hostel Hoff, also runs a charity which is building a children’s home in the village of New Land, just outside Moshi. In assessing children to be housed at the children’s’ home, Amanda come across a fourteen year old orphan called Anna who was too old for the children’s home but who obviously stuck in Amanda’s mind. When Amanda received an offer from an overseas donor to sponsor a young person’s education, she asked me—knowing my social work background—to go and assess whether Anna would be a good candidate for sponsorship.
So, I headed out to New Land with Maski—the local social worker—as my guide and translator to meet Anna and the chairman of the village, Godfry. What I found out on this visit was:
Anna is 14 years old and had been living on her own for almost four years since her grandmother died. A year before her grandmother died, her mother also died. She has no idea who her father is and all her other family members have abandoned her. She was clearly an orphan.
At home, finding out this sort of information would have set off a whole series of events involving government departments and most likely national news headlines. In Tanzania this is not particularly uncommon and, while acknowledged as a difficult situation, no cause for greater than normal concern.
To add to Anna’s dire situation, the mud shack she lived in was literally disintegrating from the foundations. In fact, another small building next to her’s had already disintegrated into a pile of bricks in a matter of months.
One of the reasons I love being a social worker is for situations like this—the really difficult, complicated, and hard-to-find-solutions-for problems. These are the types of problems I thrive on.
So, faced with such a problem, there was no way I could do nothing. I discussed with Masaki and Godfry what it would take to build Anna a new house; they seemed to think that around US$500 would probably cover it...
As I made my way home my mind was in overdrive. I was thinking about Jake and Emma—my 13 year old cousins—and what it would be like for them to fend for themselves. I was thinking about sexual violence and teen pregnancy, and the vulnerability of a young girl living on her own. I was thinking about a life of carrying bricks for less than a dollar a day—which is what Anna did. And I was thinking about how little money US$500 really was in a world where we spend hundreds on clothes and holidays and restaurant meals.
So, I spoke to some of the other volunteers at the hostel about the possibility of helping me build a house. Then I wrote an email to my friends and family and Eli forward it to his. Within 24 hours we had promises for over US$500.
So, there I was: committed to building Anna a house. With the expectations of the donors back home and the excitement of the volunteers in the hostel in the background, I realised just what a task this really was.
I spent several days talking bricks, wood, and foundations in quantities and prices with Godfry and various other men in the village with Masaki translating. It soon became obvious that Godfry—as chairman of the village and owner of the brick “factory”—saw this as a profit making exercise. So there was much negotiating, which mostly involved head shaking and frowning on my part, given my lack of Swahili.
But a calm head is needed to build. So with all the plans in place, we went off on safari (see next post) to relax; and eagerly awaiting the start of building when we got back.
On the Monday, when we returned, I headed out to the site to confirm that everything was in place for the volunteers to build the next day. Unfortunately (it appears) nothing every goes according to plan in Tanzania: as two new developments awaited me. First, we couldn’t build on the site of Anna’s current house (as originally planned) as there was some dispute over whom that land belonged to. Luckily Godfry found another piece of land that had belonged to Anna’s mother and which he felt was more suitable.
Second, we couldn’t use the roof materials from the current site either. So would have to purchase new materials; putting a significant hole in the budget. But other than that we were good to go.
Day one: in the morning about 15 enthusiastic volunteers headed out to the site to clear land and dig the foundations, while Eli and some of the boys picked up materials in town. We got to work straight away with the assistance of the fundi we hired and Masaki translating. (Fundi is the Swahili word which roughly translates to mechanic but pretty much means a tradesperson or expert in a particular field).
But progress was slower than hoped, with the Tanzanian style of discussing everything at length and working at less-than-optimal pace frustrating us. It also didn’t help that the truck caring stones and picking up Eli and boys was late. By the end of the day the foundations were laid, but we were concerned about the slow progress and delays caused by poor communication. For instance, we ended up shifting (by shovel) a huge pile of dirt twice.
Day two: started off optimistically as Amanda’s husband, Simbo, was helping out. Simbo is a local but also familiar with western ways of doing things. He helped heaps with translating, negotiating and clarifying issues as well as doing a tone of physical work.
But Simbo was not the only one working hard. The volunteers were more in the swing of things, figuring out what needed to be done and get on with it while locals debated.
Day two was rough for the boys though, as we needed extra rocks—think smashed bricks—for laying the floor, and these had to be collected by hand cart. After a herculean effort of five huge loads they were well and truly exhausted.
Day two was supposed to see us up to roof height with the bricks, leaving a couple of days for the cement to set before putting the roof on. But we were nowhere near that point. So a smaller group of volunteers were back the next day for more brick laying and building the windows.
Day three: was a busy but efficient day with everyone now in the swing of what had to be done. By the end of the day we were nearly at the roof height. So we decided to hire another fundi to work the next two days to get us nearer to completion. Labour in Tanzania is very cheap and it made sense to hire someone rather than ask our volunteers to take more time away from their own projects.
Day four: we returned with the volunteers on Sunday to put on the roofing iron, install the door and finish by mid afternoon. Things did not go exactly according to plan.
Eli and I spent the first part of the morning negotiating with the second fundi who suddenly decided that the price of his labour had gone up five-fold. Godfry was not helping the situation by refusing to support us in the negotiations. Things got so bad that I threatened to take the volunteers and go; leaving an unfinished house and unpaid accounts. Definitely not my finest hour, but it seemed to have some effect as soon after we came to an agreement.
By midafternoon the end was in sight. But we were not quite finished. So I sent all the volunteers who wanted to go home, home and Eli and I stayed on with Masaki, the second fundi and another volunteer (thanks Fabian!) to put the finishing touches to the house and move Anna in.
The day ended on a somewhat sour note with Godfry disputing that we had paid for all the materials despite having shaken my hand when I paid him and agreeing the amount was correct. This was mitigated, however, by the huge smile and hug I got from Anna who up until then had been very cautious around me and less than effusive.
For more info about how we built the house, our fellow volunteer, Stu, has written two great blog posts which you can read here:
Stu’s partner Mary was our official photographer and you can look at all the photos here:
Stu and Mary volunteer at the school that Anna is now attending and are keeping an eye on her. For which I am very grateful. They were also a huge support throughout this whole crazy undertaking as were all the other Hostel Hoff volunteers who absolutely amazed me with their willingness to come on board to help me out and their exceptionally hard work. It had been a pleasure to get to know such a great bunch of people.
Another great bunch of people are our family and friends who donated so much money so quickly. That generosity indicated an amazing sense of trust in us—which we were mindful of throughout and at times helped us when things were going badly. Knowing that people unquestioningly went along with my harebrained scheme reassured us it was possible when we had my doubts that we could really pull it off. Thank you so much to all the people who were so generous and trusting. You are awesome!
Also, for those that are interested, below is a Google maps link to Anna’s house:
* * * * *
Will we volunteer again? Most definitely. But where and when is not clear. With the Tanzanian Government raising the cost of a volunteer visa to USD550 per person we will likely look elsewhere in Africa. But that is a future story.
Part three of this series tells of our four day safari in Tarangire, Serengeti, and Ngorogoro National Parks; where lions, leopards, cheetahs, rhinos, elephants, giraffes, and hippos where all on display.
Love to all,
xxx
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