For breakfast this morning, Mama made these vegetable crepe things that were super delicious, but we didn't get a terribly long time to enjoy them as our car arrived to take us to our various locations. Mine, of course, being...the school!!
If I had to describe my first day of "teaching" English, it would be "chaotic". I was dropped off at the school/church while the rest of the team went on ahead to the hospital.
I was introduced to the 3 teachers (one of whom was actually a pretty decent English speaker and therefore the designated English teacher) and the class, which was enormous. There were 3 columns of desks with about 5 or so rows of desks in each column and about 4-6 kids (ranging from ages 3-6) squished in a "desk" (they were more like little benches with a long, tiny table top attached to them).
So, the teacher introduced me, and then just turned the floor over to me...as if I knew what I were doing! Ha! I asked the kids a couple of questions in English, while the teacher translated, but after several minutes of her telling me they already knew those phrases in English, she eventually--thank God--took the class back over and had them demonstrate all the English they already knew (surprisingly a lot).
That was helpful, but also dashed my plans for teaching them common English phrases since they already knew most of them. So I moved on to Plan B: teaching them "Jesus Loves Me".
It was fairly successful--they only struggled with a couple of words like "loves" and "tells"--, but the teacher ended up doing a lot of the repetition/imitation of the English phrases, which was slightly annoying, but I didn't fight it since it was, after all, her classroom.
The kids got a "recess" which consisted of them running to the church and back while the teachers took a 5 minute break. Since they were done with their sprint in about 30 seconds, the majority of them spent the rest of their time mobbing me and shaking my hands (4-5 kids per arm) back in the classroom. *See aforementioned note about it being chaotic* But honestly, they were so cute that I didn't really mind. The cutest was when a few of them would sing "Yes, Jesus loves me! Yes, Jesus loves me!" to themselves in the classroom and on the way to the church for their graduation practice (they're graduating from pre-school to primary school tomorrow).
Speaking of graduation practice, walking that 100m or so from the classroom to the church was the most difficult trek of my life. I literally had children hanging all over me (plus a little one in my arms who had fallen and was tearing up) and circling around me as I was trying to wade through them. It was exactly how I imagined Jesus felt trying to negotiate the huge crowds that would follow Him, except instead of these kids wanting healing or knowledge, they wanted to feel my strange, pale skin. (I definitely heard a few "mzungu"s from the crowd followed by fits of giggles.)
Once we were in the church, it took the teachers a while to get the kids into their appropriate places, partly because they're only 3-6 years old and partly because I'm pretty sure I was the most distracting thing that ever lived. It's not even like I was interacting with them. They would just come over and throw me their backpacks, grab my hands, try to sit on my lap, etc. I felt really bad for the teachers :/
Once they got settled, they went through all of the stuff they'll do at the ceremony including: asking/answering the basic English phrases that they've learned, singing hymns in English, being able to pull geographical puzzle pieces out of a puzzle map and naming the region, and--my personal favorite--reciting scripture. These kids literally kept going for around 5-10 minutes just reciting, reciting, reciting scripture, psalms, and memory verses (according to Pastor Kleopa) in Swahili. It was phenomenal.
I've always heard that America is one of the laziest countries when it comes to memorizing scripture, but this was insane. These kids had way more scripture memorized than probably anyone I've ever met!
So that was fantastic getting to experience that. At that point, it was time to go, so Pastor Kleopa picked me up and drove me to the Nkaoranga Lutheran Hospital. Along the way, however, we made a few stops.
Stop #1: Paused at the side of the road so he could talk to the little boy who--I'm 98% sure--was in "white face". He had a piece of cardboard on his face with the eyes, nostrils, and mouth cut out to make a mask and was dancing around with it. Kleopa chatted with him for a second before laughing, "Mzungu! Mzungu! Mzungu!" .....it was weird and also kind of hilarious.
Stop #2: Kleopa's farm. In addition to being a pastor, I think he also runs a farm with sheep and some cattle. We stopped at the place so Kleopa could drop off some supplies to the men constructing various structures at the farm and check on them. I checked out a baby lamb in one of the stables...super cute.
Stop #3: Coffee plants on the side of the road. I told Kleopa I'd never seen a coffee plant before, so he pulled over and showed them to me. Did you know that when coffee beans are ready, they look like little red berries? The little berry shell is shucked and inside are the two little, white, peanut-looking beans. The sugar is then removed, and then the beans are dried in the sun; it was fascinating!
After our detours, we eventually made it to the hospital, I went and scrubbed up, met Doris and Michael to begin working, and--wow--I will never complain about a hospital (or anything) ever again.
I don't even know where to begin...the place looks slightly closer to a prison compound than a hospital. There are big gates on the outside shutting out those who would have care, but cannot come in in or afford it. The people that do make it inside line the hallways outside the OR, Consulting Rooms, Doctor Rooms, and the grass areas in between buildings. The families are responsible for much of the care of their sick loved ones: they bring their own bedding, their own clothes (which they wash and hang to dry outside the wards), and provide much of the primary care functions that our nurses do in the U.S. (cleaning up after them, changing sheets, etc). They don't have the same technological means to keep their patients comfortable or even safe. And none of this is to speak of the condition of the actual hospital building itself.
The walls haven't been painted since the building was opened decades ago; the paint and plaster on the walls are cracking and peeling off; there's water damage everywhere; holes in the ceiling, window panes, and floors; their little wooden dressers are chipped, warped, and water damaged; and multiple people are shoved into the tiny wards. For example, we're working on the Women's Wards and everyone who had been in the first two rooms was pushed out into the last few with the other patients while we paint and work. Oh, and did I mention there's no sort of insurance of sterilization for these sick patients as we chip old (probably lead-based) paint off the walls of their rooms and hallways and paint with oil-based paints in rooms just feet away from where they are staying? AND that the post-operative patients will be put back into this newly painted, poorly ventilated hall once they are done in surgery?
It's pretty gruesome and just one more of the many things in this country that makes you realize just how much excess we live in and how grossly we take it for granted. I would complain if one of my nurses took a long time answering my call button if I needed more water or, God forbid, when I first stayed at Mercy downtown, and had a shared room with one other person. These people are pretty much devoid of any nurse care, apart from when the doctors make their rounds, and are shoved into rooms with multiple other patients and their families. AND, on top of it all, I would be worried about my tiny issues even when I was in the hands of some of the best medical minds in the area, if not the world, and with their lack of medical technology and the severity of most of their cases by the time they get to the hospital, there's no guarantee that they will even survive. It's really very humbling.
So we got to work scraping the old paint off the walls/ceilings of the first two rooms and the ward hallway, spackled over the inevitable holes, sanded the walls, and then finally painted the first room. I should clarify, the 3 hired painters (and occasionally Michael) did most of that, as it seemed they thought we mzungus too incompetent to do most of these simple tasks. For instance, they would take the brush out of Michael's hand, at first, if they didn't like the way he was painting/spackling, they would literally sand back over everything Doris and I had just sanded, etc.
I think all they did end up letting Doris and I do was scrape the walls, sweep the mess, and do some sanding. At least Michael eventually got to paint! :P
So it was an interesting day. Because of our perfectionist painting partners, Doris and I spent a lot of time looking around the hospital, running up to the OR prep room (aka lunch room), and taking pictures for the church to have a better idea of what this hospital looks like. And because of our white skin, we were met with either stares, laughing, or--from the poor people who would actually try and communicate with us--phrases that we weren't sure how to respond to :P I told Doris, I think since we're such a novelty in this country, we were looked at as sort of monkeys in a zoo for them to look at, laugh at, and have us say/do funny things. Case in point, as Doris and I were sweeping out the second room while the men were painting the first, a woman walked by outside the hallway, saw us in there, and just laughed and laughed as she walked away. :P
We eventually left the hospital around 6ish and went back to the guest house, where we assumed Dr. Rob and the others would be shortly joining us when their final appendectomy was finished...they didn't actually get home until close to 9! (Which means we had to wait to eat our dinner until then >:( ). Apparently, the appendectomy actually turned into a partial colectomy, as the issue wasn't in the patient's appendix at all, but in part of his colon. I can't even imagine getting a surprise like that if I were a surgeon, but I guess that's what they're trained for and why they're surgeons and I'm not :P
Dinner was very good, once again. Tonight's soup was carrot. Mama learned to only give me a little bit of soup this time since I've had trouble finishing it the past couple nights (what can I say? I'm not a creamy soup person...except chowder...mmmm ^.^). When she came back to get our dishes and saw that I'd actually eaten pretty much all of it (since my serving was so small), she smiled and said, "Excellent." Haha
In addition to the soup, we also had some absolutely delicious green beans, avocado & thinly sliced red onions prepared in vinegar, and some delicious white (or basmati?) rice with some mushrooms and sweet corn mixed in...it was all wonderful! The food here has actually been pretty great. I was scared I was going to get food poisoning or have to eat some really weird or gross stuff, but it's all been very good!
Well, that pretty much sums up my second day in Tanzania. Very eventful, indeed. I'm still so grateful to God that He's granted me this opportunity, not just to serve, but to get a glimpse of the lives these people live. Talk about humbling! Every person/horrible situation you see makes you just want to give them everything you have or go out and buy them what they "need", when, in reality, as Pastor Kleopa said, most of these people do not know they are in poverty. They live their lives just as we do, but with infinitely less and with infinitely less complaining. I'm truly grateful to be able to share and partake with them, and pray that I remember the lessons I'm learning here.
Anyway, that's all for tonight. I think we're meeting Kleopa and the Bishop of his district (? I suppose you could call it) of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Tanzania (ELCT) tomorrow and hanging out with them until around 2 when we'll go back to work at the hospital...assuming the painters let us do any work ;)
Until then!
mjl.
