is absolutely gorgeous. White sand and the clearest blue water. Just like a postcard. I'm here for our second long weekend in the program. Staying at this sweet place- the room itself is very Arab/exotified, but you walk down and you're at the beach. It's glorious.
So on Friday, I didn't really know how to just relax and enjoy it. This place is basically filled with rich Europeans and Americans. It's odd being a tourist rather than a volunteer-- I'm used to being in the village and uncomfortable fitting into the category of ignorant, privileged tourist. But I paid a lot of money for this vacation, so today I promised myself I would make the most of it, and I did. I sat on the beach alll day. I have tanned a lot. You won't even recognize me.
So yeah, just wanted to rub it in. The Indian Ocean is quite lovely. =D
Oh yeah, almost forgot. This random dude overheard our conversation and was like hey, I did SIC in 2000. Now I'm running my own NGO and getting my PhD...and we engaged in hours of conversation being critical about our roles here and what NGO strategies and volunteer mindsets are effective. Then we asked him to take cheesy pictures of us. So I sat on the beach all day AND engaged in hours of critical conversation...call me a nerd, but it was a good vaca to me. =)
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Is The Village Life Better Than The Life I Lead?
Note: I wrote this entry hella long ago but haven't had internet access in a while. Anyhow, a post about my life in the village follows. Also, the title of this post is a terrible terrible attempt at making a reference to a song. F for me. A for anyone who gets it.
First, the village ward our SIC program is in this summer is Kingori Ward, which consists of 6 villages. I've been placed w/ 4 other volunteers in the village of Nsengony, which can be further broken down into 4 subvillages. The 4 ladies (myself included) lucked out bc our homestays are next to each other (read: only a 5 minute walk through corn and sunflower fields). THe male teaching partner is a good 25 minutes away, but he usually comes to us and steals a kid's bike to get back home at the nd of the day, so it's all good. THe first week in teh vilalge consisted of lots of walking to do village mapping, house surveys to give us an idea of both the knowledge & stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS in this communities, and duka (shop) surveys to assess condom availability.
We are also suuper in with the local soccer team (er, more like the group of guys who get together to practice every afternoon), which is mostly thanks to the male TP (not T-pain, teaching partner, foolios), who kicks ass at soccer. THe head of the team is this suuper tall guy who's clearly a baller. I have to admit I feel cool when he gives me props and says, "Mambo!" The other main guy I'm in with is the referee, He's this super smart, responsible dude who knows everything about America, never failing to remind me that Schwarzenegger is CA's governor (fml). He always comes dressed in a Boy Scouts of America uniform type thing (wonder where he got it-- the patterns of imports and random signs of globalization are very inter3esting. Point in case: Why is that in the middle of fucking nowhere one can always get phone cr3edit and a bottle of Coca Cola? Makes me wonder, if hundreds of bottles of carbonated sugar can reach far and wide, why can't medicine and clean water? What you got to say about that, Zain and Coke?? Anyhow, I digress.)
A description of my homestay: A long driveway, if you will, leading you through fields (Signs status), with cows, a well, donkeys, cute young goats, a security dog at night, and chickens that like to poop around the house. Chickens are hilarious. Also why do they move their heads back and forth? Please fill me in. It ain't just for comic relief. There are 3 little rooms and a family room. My roomie and I share a bed. Well, it's more like me 20%, her 80%. One time she accidently stole my pillow out from under my head in the middle of the night. Effing hilarious. If you're reading this roomie, I got nothin but love. Anyhoo, we've only seen our Baba (dad) twice, our Mama is a baller, her sister sorta scares me, her 2 year old daughter is cute but cries (read: screams at the top of her little lungs) a lot, and her step children are patient and endearing.
Anyhoo, since I'm short on time, here are some memorable moments from the past few weeks:
1. Planning on going to church w/ the family. Thinking we had successfully communicated with the family in Swhaili that we would be going to church w/ them, only to find that htey had left us behind. We still went, to find that our Mama was not only part of ht echoir, but part of the 4-person dancing group as well. There she was, busting a move in front of us while the lead singer was singing in the most horrible falsetto I have heard (other than my own, of course). She danced well, though. I was proud.
2. Getting called out ot introduce ourselves at church. (Er...Ninaitwa Nita. Ninatoka Americani). Then, of all 5 of us, being singled out to sit next to the pastor IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. "I'll translate for you," he explained. After a super long sentence, he turned to me and said, "I'll tell you after." He never did. Instead I just sat up there for like an hour, lying to him that I was a non-denominational Christian. At least I got a great view of a baptism and a wedding. The bride did not look happy though. I finally escaped when it was time to give donations. I guess it wasn't too different from my early days of going to Gurdwara: not understanding old school Punjabi and thinking thoughts that would be frowned upon, all the while trying to appear respectful and pious.
3. Holding my pee for hours on end because I can hear the dog outside and it sounds like it is ripping something to shreds. TMI? That's what you get for reading my blog, suckas.
4. Reading Harry Potter 6 (course not for the 1st time, in preparation for the movie, duh) outside a random house and being surrounded by a bunch of kids in 30 seconds flat. Then feeling like an idiot because I wanted to chat with them but was incapable of communicating in Swahili effectively, while simultaneously feeling honored that they were steadily inching closer to me. The feeling of incompetence never leaves, really. It's quite the confidence builder.
5. Sitting on the soccer field watching a game while referee boy asks to see my book. The image: me soaking in the African sun while my Tanzanian friend pours over Mountains Beyond Mountains. The message: BKBhatia is the biggest fucking tool alive. (Honestly tho, reading MBM now sorta helped me to stay focused on what is important and inspiring here. Yes, because I'm a tool. And because I so called that anthro and medicine belogn together. Mimi status.)
6. One of the volunteers, to me and my roomie: "I think it's so funny that the kids start thrusting when they see you." Yikes. It's true though. I think they figured out that we really enjoy dancing when we taught them the Macarena. But I feel like there's something morally reprehensible about positively reinforcing thrusting movements for 7 year olds. As if lying to the pastor wasn't enough, this will surely earn me a one-way entry to hell.
7. Hearing the donkey, goats, cows, chickens, and baby all crying out at once. You should hear the pathetic moan that the donkey emits. Makes me wonder what Eeyore is thinking. I often can't tell the difference between the baby human and the baby goat, either. I swear they're battling while the mama goat beatboxes.
8. Doing a condom demo for 40 village leaders, one of whom start4ed gesturing toward his crotch. Another exclaimed that ht edildo was huge (it is) and wanted to touch its balls. Goood stuff.
9. This is one you should all be envious of: on clear days, as I brush my teeth in the yard with a water bottle, I can look up and see the snow caps of Mt. Kilimanjaro on one side and go around the back of the house to see the peak of Mt. Meru on the other. Pretty effin sweet. Teaches me I need to remember to look up and around to appreciate just how beautiful the view and the experience is.
Alright, enough of this gooey sh--show of emotion (1000000000 cool points to whoever besides Moneek gets that reference). I'm off to Zanzibar, bitchez. ;)
First, the village ward our SIC program is in this summer is Kingori Ward, which consists of 6 villages. I've been placed w/ 4 other volunteers in the village of Nsengony, which can be further broken down into 4 subvillages. The 4 ladies (myself included) lucked out bc our homestays are next to each other (read: only a 5 minute walk through corn and sunflower fields). THe male teaching partner is a good 25 minutes away, but he usually comes to us and steals a kid's bike to get back home at the nd of the day, so it's all good. THe first week in teh vilalge consisted of lots of walking to do village mapping, house surveys to give us an idea of both the knowledge & stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS in this communities, and duka (shop) surveys to assess condom availability.
We are also suuper in with the local soccer team (er, more like the group of guys who get together to practice every afternoon), which is mostly thanks to the male TP (not T-pain, teaching partner, foolios), who kicks ass at soccer. THe head of the team is this suuper tall guy who's clearly a baller. I have to admit I feel cool when he gives me props and says, "Mambo!" The other main guy I'm in with is the referee, He's this super smart, responsible dude who knows everything about America, never failing to remind me that Schwarzenegger is CA's governor (fml). He always comes dressed in a Boy Scouts of America uniform type thing (wonder where he got it-- the patterns of imports and random signs of globalization are very inter3esting. Point in case: Why is that in the middle of fucking nowhere one can always get phone cr3edit and a bottle of Coca Cola? Makes me wonder, if hundreds of bottles of carbonated sugar can reach far and wide, why can't medicine and clean water? What you got to say about that, Zain and Coke?? Anyhow, I digress.)
A description of my homestay: A long driveway, if you will, leading you through fields (Signs status), with cows, a well, donkeys, cute young goats, a security dog at night, and chickens that like to poop around the house. Chickens are hilarious. Also why do they move their heads back and forth? Please fill me in. It ain't just for comic relief. There are 3 little rooms and a family room. My roomie and I share a bed. Well, it's more like me 20%, her 80%. One time she accidently stole my pillow out from under my head in the middle of the night. Effing hilarious. If you're reading this roomie, I got nothin but love. Anyhoo, we've only seen our Baba (dad) twice, our Mama is a baller, her sister sorta scares me, her 2 year old daughter is cute but cries (read: screams at the top of her little lungs) a lot, and her step children are patient and endearing.
Anyhoo, since I'm short on time, here are some memorable moments from the past few weeks:
1. Planning on going to church w/ the family. Thinking we had successfully communicated with the family in Swhaili that we would be going to church w/ them, only to find that htey had left us behind. We still went, to find that our Mama was not only part of ht echoir, but part of the 4-person dancing group as well. There she was, busting a move in front of us while the lead singer was singing in the most horrible falsetto I have heard (other than my own, of course). She danced well, though. I was proud.
2. Getting called out ot introduce ourselves at church. (Er...Ninaitwa Nita. Ninatoka Americani). Then, of all 5 of us, being singled out to sit next to the pastor IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. "I'll translate for you," he explained. After a super long sentence, he turned to me and said, "I'll tell you after." He never did. Instead I just sat up there for like an hour, lying to him that I was a non-denominational Christian. At least I got a great view of a baptism and a wedding. The bride did not look happy though. I finally escaped when it was time to give donations. I guess it wasn't too different from my early days of going to Gurdwara: not understanding old school Punjabi and thinking thoughts that would be frowned upon, all the while trying to appear respectful and pious.
3. Holding my pee for hours on end because I can hear the dog outside and it sounds like it is ripping something to shreds. TMI? That's what you get for reading my blog, suckas.
4. Reading Harry Potter 6 (course not for the 1st time, in preparation for the movie, duh) outside a random house and being surrounded by a bunch of kids in 30 seconds flat. Then feeling like an idiot because I wanted to chat with them but was incapable of communicating in Swahili effectively, while simultaneously feeling honored that they were steadily inching closer to me. The feeling of incompetence never leaves, really. It's quite the confidence builder.
5. Sitting on the soccer field watching a game while referee boy asks to see my book. The image: me soaking in the African sun while my Tanzanian friend pours over Mountains Beyond Mountains. The message: BKBhatia is the biggest fucking tool alive. (Honestly tho, reading MBM now sorta helped me to stay focused on what is important and inspiring here. Yes, because I'm a tool. And because I so called that anthro and medicine belogn together. Mimi status.)
6. One of the volunteers, to me and my roomie: "I think it's so funny that the kids start thrusting when they see you." Yikes. It's true though. I think they figured out that we really enjoy dancing when we taught them the Macarena. But I feel like there's something morally reprehensible about positively reinforcing thrusting movements for 7 year olds. As if lying to the pastor wasn't enough, this will surely earn me a one-way entry to hell.
7. Hearing the donkey, goats, cows, chickens, and baby all crying out at once. You should hear the pathetic moan that the donkey emits. Makes me wonder what Eeyore is thinking. I often can't tell the difference between the baby human and the baby goat, either. I swear they're battling while the mama goat beatboxes.
8. Doing a condom demo for 40 village leaders, one of whom start4ed gesturing toward his crotch. Another exclaimed that ht edildo was huge (it is) and wanted to touch its balls. Goood stuff.
9. This is one you should all be envious of: on clear days, as I brush my teeth in the yard with a water bottle, I can look up and see the snow caps of Mt. Kilimanjaro on one side and go around the back of the house to see the peak of Mt. Meru on the other. Pretty effin sweet. Teaches me I need to remember to look up and around to appreciate just how beautiful the view and the experience is.
Alright, enough of this gooey sh--show of emotion (1000000000 cool points to whoever besides Moneek gets that reference). I'm off to Zanzibar, bitchez. ;)
Friday, July 17, 2009
DallaDalla Ballas
A general recap of last weekend: cre cre. Due to some unfortuante circusmtances, SIC is a bit low on trucks right now. The result: even volunteers who are reallly far away from the main road had to find hteir own way back to Arusha. My group was one of these lucky winners. We were also told that hte only direct way of getting into town was taking this huge yellow bus in. The catch: THe first one leaves at 7am, and the second, iffy one leaves at 2pm...or 4pm...or never pm. Not to mention this is all first-come, first-served. Now mind you, this was to get back to town after our first week in the village, ie our longest week in teh village. We got a call form one of hte other volunteers at 8:30pm the night before suggesting we all meet up by 7am on the main road to catch the bus. My roomie and I eagerly agreed. What this meant for us, however, was that we would have to rerck for an hour to get to the main road by 7am. So we took our flashlights (it was pitch black) and ran next door, where 2 other group members are staying, to tell (not ask) that we would all ahve to be ready to peace out at 5:45am the next morning so we were guaranteed a seat back to town. Then we ran back and maoned and groaned about packing for the weekend and ahving ot fit everything in the backpacks we'd be carrying on our backs for more than an hour. The quetion of whether to bring an umbrella came up. "Naw, I'm not," I replied. "It hasn't ranied yet. What are the chances of it raining now?" WIth that, I crawled into bed for what would prove to be a restless night, prematurely terminated by my alarm clock screaming at me at a painfully early 5:15am.
My group set off with stuffed bags on our backs nd flashlights in our hands, as it was pitch black at 6am and the sun doesn't come up until around 6:30am. Mind you, the path was lined with dust and rocks and I'm sure firnedly critters we coudn't see. As if that wasn't bad enough, it sparted spinrkling. My roomie and I looked at each other, both thinking: fml.
Luckily the sprinkling never turned to rain and quickly subsided. We reached hte main road, panting and sweating, a few minutes after 7am. We waited for a little bit, bu tno yellow bus came. There were about a dozen of us now, and we were determined to get to town. SO we jumped in some dalldallas. What are dalldallas, you ask? THey're sort of like old school mini-vans tha hey stuff as many people as possible into. Though perhaps a bit squishy, they were definitely one o fhte fastest modes of transportatin available. The only catch is that you may die or run something over. I wasn't kidding when I said they were fast. Speeding, riskay passing, 2-lane roads, and dalladallas = an exciting trip to sayteh last. SOme volunteers almost shat themselves. One took solace in grabbing my pinky, of all things, when she thought she saw her life flash before her eyes (I continue to tease her about this). What can I say, my pinky is jacked. I personally find these rides rather thrilling. Maybe my life is way duller than I thought, bu thte racing and passing, the bumps an hte near-death scenarios are the cloest I'm going to get to a roller coaster this summer, and I find it really gets my adrenaline pumping.
Needless to say, we got ot town just fine. Stay tuned for a recap of the ride back.
***
Fast forward to Saturday. This was the day to take car eof long weekend trips. I'll be going ot Zanzibar on the second long weekend--absolutely can't wait. One of hte other volunteers and I decided to be proacive and check out flights first. We were pretty sure hte long weekend was Fri-Mon, so we checked for flights to Zanzibar leavin gon Friday. THey wer eavaiable, adn pretty cheap. Before we paid, I wanted to confirm that hte long weekend was in fact Fri-Mon and not Sat-Tues. I called one of the SIC pcoordniators, who informe dme that it was actually Sat-Tues. Oh shit, good thing we checked, I thought. So we looked into Saturday flights. THere are three, the PRecision AIr employee informed us, but they're all full. Wtf we thoguht. It was not worth throwing a few hundred dolalrs down for what would not even amount to two full days. Needless to say, we were pissed.
I and the other vounteer had really been lookin forwad to this vaca, so we weren't willing ot let it crasha dn burn. So we called back andtried to negotiate adn rationalize leaving a day early. Long story short; no dice. We were annoyed, but we haxc to think of optins. We went across the street toanother airlie to be told that htey didn't flyu to Zanzibar. Tanzania and Coastal airlines probably do, the lady told us, but it's a Saturday so they closed at 1pm. I looked at the clock and read 1:09pm. Fuckk. We had to figure out our flight situation that day. Who knew if anything was open on Sunday. Besdies, we'd be back in our vilalges by imd-afternoon. We proceeded to spring down 3 flights of stairs and across hte street where cards do not (I repeat, do NOT) stop for pedestrians. We made it ot tzanania AIrlines and hte door was open! Can you please please give us some flight info? We begged the dude SUre, I'll tell you from memory since the computers are already off. He informed us that we could get ot Zanzibar on Sat afternoon, but there was no continuous return flight. WSe went next door to Coastal Air. Their prices were redonk. Defeated, we started walking and decided to eat our feelings at a burger stand. We bitched and moaned while stuffing our faces. Twas beautiful.
I had barely begun driinin gmy cold Coca Cola in a glass bottle when we ran into some other volunteers who informed us that we had been right all along: the long weekend WAS Fri-Mon. We started laughing. What a shitload of anger and frustration gone to waste! And now we can't even book our flights because Precision Air closes at 2pm. I looked down at my cell phone. 13:53, it read. We have 7 minutes! I shouted. let's do this! I took one sip of my Coke returne dit so they wouldn't lose profit on the bottle, and went running into the streets with the other volunteer, with a pack of others trailing behind us. I'm sure people were like, dude, wtf is wrong with these crazy mzungus (Swahili for white folk), watchign su running through the streets like we were in Home Alone and about to miss our flight. Two f us slid in just as hte guard was closing hte office door. It's these pathetic two again, he probably thought. Panting once gain we looked behind us to find that everyone else was standing outside, locked out. With some persuasion, we were able to convince hte guard to let htem in and we were able to book our flights. I was relived to be rid of hte wad of Tanzanian shillings I had been carrying around in my purse.
Alright I'm tired of writing and you're prob tired of reading, so I'll end by saying that the ride back was 17 (no fuking joke, 17) of us, plus bags, stuffed into one SIC truck for over an hour. Luckily I didn't have to sit in anyone's lap, though occasionally my ass fell asleep and I felt like I couldn't breathe. It was fun though, especially when we hit those curvaceous triple speed bumps.
More to come soon.
My group set off with stuffed bags on our backs nd flashlights in our hands, as it was pitch black at 6am and the sun doesn't come up until around 6:30am. Mind you, the path was lined with dust and rocks and I'm sure firnedly critters we coudn't see. As if that wasn't bad enough, it sparted spinrkling. My roomie and I looked at each other, both thinking: fml.
Luckily the sprinkling never turned to rain and quickly subsided. We reached hte main road, panting and sweating, a few minutes after 7am. We waited for a little bit, bu tno yellow bus came. There were about a dozen of us now, and we were determined to get to town. SO we jumped in some dalldallas. What are dalldallas, you ask? THey're sort of like old school mini-vans tha hey stuff as many people as possible into. Though perhaps a bit squishy, they were definitely one o fhte fastest modes of transportatin available. The only catch is that you may die or run something over. I wasn't kidding when I said they were fast. Speeding, riskay passing, 2-lane roads, and dalladallas = an exciting trip to sayteh last. SOme volunteers almost shat themselves. One took solace in grabbing my pinky, of all things, when she thought she saw her life flash before her eyes (I continue to tease her about this). What can I say, my pinky is jacked. I personally find these rides rather thrilling. Maybe my life is way duller than I thought, bu thte racing and passing, the bumps an hte near-death scenarios are the cloest I'm going to get to a roller coaster this summer, and I find it really gets my adrenaline pumping.
Needless to say, we got ot town just fine. Stay tuned for a recap of the ride back.
***
Fast forward to Saturday. This was the day to take car eof long weekend trips. I'll be going ot Zanzibar on the second long weekend--absolutely can't wait. One of hte other volunteers and I decided to be proacive and check out flights first. We were pretty sure hte long weekend was Fri-Mon, so we checked for flights to Zanzibar leavin gon Friday. THey wer eavaiable, adn pretty cheap. Before we paid, I wanted to confirm that hte long weekend was in fact Fri-Mon and not Sat-Tues. I called one of the SIC pcoordniators, who informe dme that it was actually Sat-Tues. Oh shit, good thing we checked, I thought. So we looked into Saturday flights. THere are three, the PRecision AIr employee informed us, but they're all full. Wtf we thoguht. It was not worth throwing a few hundred dolalrs down for what would not even amount to two full days. Needless to say, we were pissed.
I and the other vounteer had really been lookin forwad to this vaca, so we weren't willing ot let it crasha dn burn. So we called back andtried to negotiate adn rationalize leaving a day early. Long story short; no dice. We were annoyed, but we haxc to think of optins. We went across the street toanother airlie to be told that htey didn't flyu to Zanzibar. Tanzania and Coastal airlines probably do, the lady told us, but it's a Saturday so they closed at 1pm. I looked at the clock and read 1:09pm. Fuckk. We had to figure out our flight situation that day. Who knew if anything was open on Sunday. Besdies, we'd be back in our vilalges by imd-afternoon. We proceeded to spring down 3 flights of stairs and across hte street where cards do not (I repeat, do NOT) stop for pedestrians. We made it ot tzanania AIrlines and hte door was open! Can you please please give us some flight info? We begged the dude SUre, I'll tell you from memory since the computers are already off. He informed us that we could get ot Zanzibar on Sat afternoon, but there was no continuous return flight. WSe went next door to Coastal Air. Their prices were redonk. Defeated, we started walking and decided to eat our feelings at a burger stand. We bitched and moaned while stuffing our faces. Twas beautiful.
I had barely begun driinin gmy cold Coca Cola in a glass bottle when we ran into some other volunteers who informed us that we had been right all along: the long weekend WAS Fri-Mon. We started laughing. What a shitload of anger and frustration gone to waste! And now we can't even book our flights because Precision Air closes at 2pm. I looked down at my cell phone. 13:53, it read. We have 7 minutes! I shouted. let's do this! I took one sip of my Coke returne dit so they wouldn't lose profit on the bottle, and went running into the streets with the other volunteer, with a pack of others trailing behind us. I'm sure people were like, dude, wtf is wrong with these crazy mzungus (Swahili for white folk), watchign su running through the streets like we were in Home Alone and about to miss our flight. Two f us slid in just as hte guard was closing hte office door. It's these pathetic two again, he probably thought. Panting once gain we looked behind us to find that everyone else was standing outside, locked out. With some persuasion, we were able to convince hte guard to let htem in and we were able to book our flights. I was relived to be rid of hte wad of Tanzanian shillings I had been carrying around in my purse.
Alright I'm tired of writing and you're prob tired of reading, so I'll end by saying that the ride back was 17 (no fuking joke, 17) of us, plus bags, stuffed into one SIC truck for over an hour. Luckily I didn't have to sit in anyone's lap, though occasionally my ass fell asleep and I felt like I couldn't breathe. It was fun though, especially when we hit those curvaceous triple speed bumps.
More to come soon.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Back and Worse Than Ever
...just kidding. sort of. so i'm attempting to blog again to keep everyone updated on my time in tanzania. but i get access to internet like once every two weeks, so we'll see how this goes. posts will be choppy and shitty (that creates a nice image, huh?) and saturated with typos. no pretty pictures either. you've been warned.
but of course you all love me enough to keep reading. so as most of you know, i'm volunteering with an NGO called SIC- Support for International Change. we do HIV/AIDS education in rural villages- in schools, at church, on soccer fields, in the community. right now i'm about 3 weeks in, with 5 to go.
the program started with fun in arusha. go around town, be touristy, get some skirts made, yadda yadda. then we moved to meru university for an intense two-week orientation in which we reviewed the whole SIC curriculum, learned some basic swahili, and played games every minute we weren't in class. have never played so many games in my life. drug dealer, 007, bitty bitty bop, and mafia are faves.
so a little more about the program. there are twenty-some american volunteers- mostly from harvard and stanford. and four british volunteers. we work with tanzanian teaching partners- in addition to teaching, they translate and back-translate as well. tough stuff.
so if you're premed at harvard, or anything at harvard really, you know that everyone is all up on global health's jock. we aren't lacking programs that scream "AIDS in Africa!" with images of little children. i wasn't looking for a program that would get in, get out, and pat itself on the back (never a good thing, in any case). call it cultural competency, call it sustainability, call it a way to address structural violence- that's what i was looking for. the horizontal approach of SIC international volunteers living and teaching with tanzanians, in addition to permanent community health workers, sounded right to me. definitely the best i've found in theory. still evaluating in terms of practice. i still have plenty to observe, experience, and learn. the only criticism i have thus far is the lack of space in orientation to address the questions of why are we here? why do we need to be here? with what biases and assumptions are we coming to tanzania? what biases and assumptions do the teaching partners have about us? what value judgments are inherent in having us (international volunteers, non-tanzanians) teach at all- is it all solidarity, or are there deep-rooted cycles of power and blame that must be examined? i am not asking these questions from a moral high point, i simply want these discussions to happen and be well-integrated in the program, since whether or not we talk about them explicitly, the presence of these issues is undeniable.
woo that was heavy. breaktime. miss you all terribly. xoxo n
but of course you all love me enough to keep reading. so as most of you know, i'm volunteering with an NGO called SIC- Support for International Change. we do HIV/AIDS education in rural villages- in schools, at church, on soccer fields, in the community. right now i'm about 3 weeks in, with 5 to go.
the program started with fun in arusha. go around town, be touristy, get some skirts made, yadda yadda. then we moved to meru university for an intense two-week orientation in which we reviewed the whole SIC curriculum, learned some basic swahili, and played games every minute we weren't in class. have never played so many games in my life. drug dealer, 007, bitty bitty bop, and mafia are faves.
so a little more about the program. there are twenty-some american volunteers- mostly from harvard and stanford. and four british volunteers. we work with tanzanian teaching partners- in addition to teaching, they translate and back-translate as well. tough stuff.
so if you're premed at harvard, or anything at harvard really, you know that everyone is all up on global health's jock. we aren't lacking programs that scream "AIDS in Africa!" with images of little children. i wasn't looking for a program that would get in, get out, and pat itself on the back (never a good thing, in any case). call it cultural competency, call it sustainability, call it a way to address structural violence- that's what i was looking for. the horizontal approach of SIC international volunteers living and teaching with tanzanians, in addition to permanent community health workers, sounded right to me. definitely the best i've found in theory. still evaluating in terms of practice. i still have plenty to observe, experience, and learn. the only criticism i have thus far is the lack of space in orientation to address the questions of why are we here? why do we need to be here? with what biases and assumptions are we coming to tanzania? what biases and assumptions do the teaching partners have about us? what value judgments are inherent in having us (international volunteers, non-tanzanians) teach at all- is it all solidarity, or are there deep-rooted cycles of power and blame that must be examined? i am not asking these questions from a moral high point, i simply want these discussions to happen and be well-integrated in the program, since whether or not we talk about them explicitly, the presence of these issues is undeniable.
woo that was heavy. breaktime. miss you all terribly. xoxo n
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)