At Amani, every new staff member or volunteer goes through orientation. Part of this orientation is spending time in every department learning what the various staff members do. I completed most of this months ago when I first arrived. I spent time with the cooks, the accountant, the social workers, and everyone in between. But there was one part of orientation I hadn’t completed yet until last week: going out on the streets with the social worker who meets kids living there and tells them about Amani.

So on Thursday night, two of the other volunteers, the social worker, John, and I traveled to a city about 2 hours away where many children go when they decide to move to the streets. We arrived in late afternoon, and on our way to put our stuff in the hotel we saw three kids standing around whom John said he had never seen before. We went over and talked to them. We found out their names were Salum, Luka, and Kasim, and they were ages 9, 12, and 14. They had arrived that day from their village, which was very far away. Kasim and Luka are brothers who had been living with an old woman in their village until she told them to go live with another person in a different town. When they arrived in the town, the person said they could not stay, and when they returned to their village, the old woman was gone. So they decided to move to the street. Salum’s parents have gotten divorced and have been fighting over who should pay his school fees. Neither would pay, and so he decided to travel to the streets with Luka and Kasim in search of a better life.

We put our bags down at the hotel, and then we returned to the kids and invited them to walk around town with us as we met other kids. John said this would be an important way of gaining their trust. So we walked around and eventually ended up at the bus station. Lots of kids work there during the day hauling luggage or doing whatever other kinds of work they can find, and many were still hanging around when we got there around 9. Many of them are kids who have lived on the streets for a long time. They know John well but have no intention of coming to a place like Amani where they will have to follow rules and won’t be able to make money. But it was sweet to hear them asking John to make sure that we had found the new kids. When they saw that they were with us, some of them even went over to talk to our new little friends to encourage them to go to Amani and get an education. John bought tea and donuts for many of the children, and I sat next to a boy named Dismus who was 15 years old and had left home because his family could not afford school fees. We also saw two children who had recently left Amani. It was great to see them, but they were both pretty high on drugs, so it was also really sad. One of them, Emmanuel, was on my tutoring caseload, so I knew him pretty well. He came up to us but then covered his face and wouldn’t say anything. It was a little hard to balance wanting to just drag him onto a bus to come back to Amani while at the same time knowing that he needed to make that choice on his own. John told all of the kids that they were welcome to come to Amani and that we would meet them at the bus station the next day at 9am if they wanted to come.

It was hard to sleep that night, wondering how the kids were doing on the street and who would be there to meet us the next day.

In the morning, we arrived at the bus station just after 9. At first, I was a little nervous because I didn’t see any of our kids. And then I saw our three little ones running toward us, waving and smiling. And then Dismus appeared out of the crowd, too. We all boarded a bus back to Moshi.

I sat by Salum on the way home. I wanted him to be prepared for the day, so I explained what would happen once we arrived at Amani. I told him he would meet with a social worker whose job it is to help kids and their families. He would also meet with the nurse who would make sure he was healthy, and then he would take a shower and get some new clothes. He was full of questions, but they were mostly about little things, like what color the kids’ school uniforms were. I guess maybe it was too much for him to even start to think about the big things.

I spent most my spare time on Friday at Amani helping the kids get situated—helping them get new clothes, giving them a tour around the building, teaching them the lunch routine, etc. It has been great to see them this week now that have gotten used to everything. They fit right in with the other kids, playing football, doing gymnastics, and just generally joking around with everyone.

During the bus ride, I told Salum that he would be able to see Mount Kilimanjaro once we got to Moshi. From then on, every five minutes he was tapping me on the shoulder to ask if some little slope in the distance was the famous mountain. Finally I explained to him that it takes people DAYS to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. “You could probably climb that little hill in 5 minutes,” I said. “Probably one minute,” Salum replied.

Everyone in Moshi knows what “the mountain” looks like, and I think in some ways we just get used to it being there. So while it was kind of funny for Salum to be asking if every little hill on the side of the road was the famous Mount Kilimanjaro, I have found myself stopping to appreciate its magnificence more since that day. It is as if I am seeing it with new eyes.

In the same way, I think Dismus, Salum, Luka, and Kasim have reminded me of how great of a place Amani is. Being there every day I sometimes get wrapped up in my day-to-day routine, and I forget what amazing work is being done all around me. But being around these kids has allowed me to see it with brand new eyes again.

Dismas came to find me yesterday morning to tell me that he would be going back home with a social worker tomorrow to work out how his school fees could be paid. He could hardly contain his excitement about the thought of going to secondary school. Luka has never been to school before, and he literally jumped for joy on Monday when I told him that we would be having class on Tuesday.

Amidst everything they have been through that led up to them having to sleep on the street last Thursday night, the joy of these children is very pure and very real. I am so excited to be able to watch it, and them, continue to grow.


Kasim, Luka, and Salum

I haven't written anything exciting, but I've been taking a few pictures here and there that I thought I would share.

First off, here's my gum wrapper from the other day:



We (a few of the other Amani volunteers and I) went to Marangu a couple of weekends ago, which is a village on the slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro. It's one of my favorite places in the world. Here are a couple of pictures from our trip:





And a salon we saw on the way home. You can't see it too well, but it is called the "G-Unit Air Cutting Salon":



This was my view during my walk to Amani this morning:



And last, but not least, some pictures of the kiddos. These first ones are of a little boy named Bossy, who might be the most perfectly named kid in the world. He is 6 years old, and he lives at Amani with his 3 older brothers. Yesterday was his first day of school, which he is attending with his brother John. My mommy always took pictures of me on my first days of school, so I thought Bossy should have some pictures of his first day too.



With his brother, John:



And doing handstands after school:



And here are some pictures of another little guy at Amani, Salimu. He comes from a pretty bad situation, and he was pretty wild when I first met him a few years ago. He's in Kindergarten now, and he's doing well. He's still got a pretty tough shell, and it has been a little tough for me to crack. I've been giving him some extra attention every now and then, challenging him to a little soccer and listening to him read. I think this week he's finally decided I'm ok, and I got some smiling pictures to prove it (and one non-smiling one where he looks like a little abercrombie model).









Love to everyone!

We’re about to start my fourth week of teaching at Amani, and since it’s the first day of school for lots of people back home, I thought I would tell you all a little bit about what school is like here everyday.

First of all, a little bit of background about the education system in Tanzania and at Amani. Unlike schools in the West, there is no free public education here. Even to send a child to the government schools, families must pay $150 each year for primary school (grades 1-7) and about $450 each year for secondary school (grades 8-13). In a country in which about 80% of the population makes less than $2 dollars a day, these fees can be impossible to manage for many families, especially if they have more than one child, which most families do. As a result, only about 54% of children in Tanzania will finish primary school and 7% will finish secondary school. Not being able to school causes some children to leave home and move to the street, and some of them eventually end up at Amani.

Education is a big focus of Amani programming. If possible, Amani sends its kids to local schools just like the other kids in the neighborhood. However, many older kids who arrive at Amani who have never been to school cannot go to the neighborhood schools because they are so far behind (you can’t send a 14 year-old to grade 1). So Amani has its own school that has a much lower teacher-student ratio and than the government schools and a fast-track curriculum which gives these older kids a chance to catch up with their peers. This is the program in which I am currently working.

There are 3 classes of students at Amani, and students are placed in them based on their ability levels. I teach an English period every day in each of the classes, and the rest of my time is spent tutoring kids individually or in small groups, usually in Math or Reading.

This is the Starter’s class.



When kids first arrive at Amani, they are placed in here as the social workers start investigating their situations and the teachers assess their levels. With almost 30 students, it is the biggest class at Amani. Because of its nature, it can also be the most challenging. Sometimes the students have literally arrived from the streets that day, and their levels vary quite a bit. I was nervous to teach this class because of these big challenges, but it has quickly become my favorite group (don’t tell the others). As cheesy as it is to say, I really enjoy molding their little minds. Many of them don’t know how to read or write even in Swahili, so most of our lessons are verbal and involve singing songs and playing lots of games. They are so excited to learn, and I’m always so impressed from day to day with how much they remember.

We've been learning about verbs recently, and we made up actions to go along with them. Here they are demonstrating "to read."



Here is the next level, Class C.





They are kind of like the 2nd and 3rd graders. In the beginning, they were definitely my hardest class. I’ve known many of them for a few years, and they are all very sweet kids separately, but I think together they have a little too much ADHD. Just keeping them in their seats was quite a challenge at first, but lately they have done well. Last week when they were learning body parts, I taught them Simon Says, and now they are a bit obsessed. On Friday when school was over they begged me to stay to play “just one more time” about 5 times. But I must say they are getting pretty awesome at identifying parts of the body :)

This is Class B, which is like 4th grade.



As a whole, these students’ English is much better than the other two classes and, unlike the other two, I teach them only using English. Also, if the students use English only during class the whole week, on Friday they get a little prize (Hershey’s kiss, lollipop, etc). These students will be taking some important exams this year, so our class is pretty structured and focused. They love American music, though, so about once a week I let them take a little break to listen to a song and talk about the words and meaning. Right now they are really into the world cup songs like “Waka Waka” and “Waving Flag,” and it’s so cute to hear them singing in the hallways and outside at the end of the school day.

So this is what I spend most of my days doing. It has been both challenging and rewarding and I’m sure it will continue to be as the school year progresses. There are days when I can’t believe the kids have caught on so fast, and I feel like they are going to be speaking English in no time. There are also days when they just can’t seem to concentrate, and I can’t seem to get them to be motivated. No matter how difficult the day is, though, I always find it striking to see these children in their little uniforms sitting at their desks in front of me. It is hard to imagine that, as children living on the street, their lives were at one time so incredibly different.

I’ve had a few things in mind to blog about, but I haven’t remembered yet to take the pictures to go with the blogs. But I figured it’s about time to put something new up anyway, so this will kind of just be a hodgepodge of random things about my life here in Moshi.

First off, I finally took some pictures of my new little place. Today I was thinking how funny it is that when you hear someone is moving to Africa, most people’s initial reaction is to think they are going to be living in some kind of hut and living off the land. Which is definitely how many people live here. But, to be honest, other than being away from my family and friends, my life here isn’t that much different than it was in Tennessee. I have a cell phone, internet access (sometimes), electricity, and running water. I have a sweet deal with the owner of my hotel because I am staying for so long, but it is still a pretty Westernized place to live. Although I do like it at this place, in some ways it is a trade-off because it’s not exactly the Tanzanian norm.

Here’s my room. I don’t spend much time in here because the bed takes up most of the space, but it is called a “BEDroom” after all.



Here’s my bathroom. Yes, the water gets all over everything when I take a shower. But it’s all waterproof, and the toilet paper has this handy little cover you can put over it. Also, my showerhead is an instantaneous water heater which may be the most ingenious invention ever (other than the daladala, of course). Even more than the cell phone and internet, hot water may be the comfort I treasure the most.



This is our “living room.”



Here is our kitchen. You can’t see it that well, but there is a little refrigerator, a gas stove, and a sink. My cooking hasn’t changed that much since I’ve been here either, although I’m getting much fresher produce. I’m planning on devoting an entire blog to the food here one of these days, but for dinner I usually make grilled cheese with cucumber and tomatoes, cereal with mango, noodles with tomato and green pepper, or some type of omelet.



I do miss chocolate quite a bit, so last week at the grocery store I bought myself a treat. I never thought there would be anything I would love more than eating chocolate, but it turns out there is…



Another great part about the place I live is that they have bikes that we can use.



It’s definitely not a comfy ride on the bumpy dirt roads, but it’s much faster than walking. The roads are also pretty hard on the tires. I had my first flat one yesterday, which thankfully the Amani kids noticed in the afternoon. One of the Amani teachers told us where to go, and two of the kids walked with me up to the main road to get it fixed. I’m glad they did, because I would have never known that the man selling sandals on the side of the road doubled as the local bicycle repairman. The kids showed him the problem, and he immediately whipped out a tire pump and some superglue, took my whole tire apart, and started patching things up. I promise I haven’t been living under a rock, but did everyone else know there is actually a little tube inside the tire that holds the air? I was shocked. Anyway, he put it back together as fast as he took it apart. I paid about 20 cents, and we were on our way. One of the kids, Dennis, was pretty upset because he thought the price should have been more like 15 cents, and he didn’t want them to cheat me. It was kind of sweet that he was trying to take care of me, and because that extra 5 cents really was a big deal for him. But the sweetest thing was on the way back. The kids love riding bikes, so I told Dennis and the other boy, Isaiah, that they could take turns riding the bike home. Dennis took the first turn, and the whole time Isaiah was saying things like, “I think we’re halfway there now. When is it my turn?” I thought about telling them if they didn’t stop arguing I was going to turn the bike around, but I thought it might get lost in translation ha. Finally, we decided we were halfway, and they switched.

Before I tell you the rest, you should know that earlier this week Isaiah came into my classroom crying. Apparently many of the kids, including him, had gotten in trouble that morning for not wearing socks to school. The teacher had told them that they had better wear socks the next day, or they would be in trouble again. Isaiah had lost his socks, so he was pretty nervous about the next day, and he was thinking about running away. We were able to have a nice talk about how, in life, there are big problems that need big solutions and little problems that need little solutions. And how not having socks may seem like a big problem at first, but it really is pretty little, so its solution is little too; he just needed to ask a caregiver for help. So Isaiah explained everything to an Amani caregiver and got new socks, and he has slept with them every night since then.

Back to the bike. After all the asking and negotiating about where exactly halfway home was, it turned out that Isaiah didn’t actually know how to ride a bike. So Dennis and I stood on either side and held the bike up while he rode. I had flashbacks of my Grandpa teaching me to ride a two-wheeler on the beach when I was four years old. Isaiah is fifteen (although he looks more like ten), but I think his joy was just as pure as mine was when I was four. And I decided sometimes it is about the big things, like taking kids to the hospital or figuring out how to teach our crazy English language. But lots of times it’s about the little things, like getting a pair of new socks. Or having a glass of milk with drinking chocolate. Or spending an afternoon teaching a 15 year-old kid how to ride a bike on a dusty, bumpy African road. And it’s often these little things that make life so great.


Isaiah

Although in many ways my life here doesn’t seem to be that much different from my life in the U.S., there is something about this country that touches my soul. There is a sense of “realness” here that I’ve never felt anywhere else, and I am so blessed to wake up every morning in the middle of it all.