WATER WATER EVERYWHERE…. EXCEPT HERE

It’s a funny thing how priorities can change from one week to the next. A couple of weeks ago, the power went on and off every so often, so when it went off, we were all annoyed, sighing loudly, feeling disrupted. Now that we have power so rarely, we get really excited when it IS working! Yesterday we lost power around 8am and it didn’t come back until sometime in early hours of the morning, so effectively we had no power for a full day. We use the generator in the office until 6pm but after that, it’s lights out and candles on.

But that pales in comparison to our current problem – we have had no water for almost three days now. The pipe which brings water into our village is blocked somewhere along the line, so we aren’t getting water at all. There’s no water to drink, to wash in and we’re running out of water to cook with. As I used a miniscule amount of my drinking water to wash my hands with, I realized how much more respect I had for it, now that it was scarce. Of course, if everyone had that much respect for water while we had it, Tanzania wouldn’t be facing a drought situation. That’s not to say that issues like the ever-changing climate and global warming haven’t caused this problem, but with so little water, the little that exists has to be used carefully.

When the water shortage began to become apparent around a year ago the government should have been implementing the restrictions that are currently in place. But it was an election year and drought isn’t really a word that a future government wants to use. So it was pushed to the rear of everyone’s minds – something to be dealt with at some time in the future.

And now the water is running out.

WHO HAS THE PROBLEM?

When I was coming to Africa, I had a secondary, secret agenda; to become just a little bit emaciated! I thought it seemed fairly safe to assume that in a country as poor as Tanzania, food would be scarce and I wouldn’t be getting my usual (too) big portions. Hence, my generous glutes (arse) and stomach might shrink. It felt like a good deal – I could help a very needy cause AND get thin!

So yes, while African people are trying to get more (albeit enough to survive), I was hoping I would get a little less. Ironic really isn’t it. And tragic on another level.

When I think of famine, my mind is filled with images of tiny, frail bodies, little arms and sunken eyes staring into the camera. They were the images of Ethiopia which filled our TV screens during my childhood. I still associate those images with famine and hunger.

Tanzania is one of the poorest countries in the world. There is a serious food shortage. The Tanzanian government have appealed for tons of food to try to relieve the situation. And now with the drought, it will take years to get the country back on track.

Some of the children in our school are painfully thin. Last week I saw a child with body ulcers, a classic sign of malnutrition. He also had rickets and symptoms of a hernia. This is fairly typical in Tanzania. And yet to my confusion, by and large, the mamas aren’t thin. African mamas and bibis (grandmothers) are BIG ladies. They’re often quite tall and pretty wide.

I was trying to work out how this is possible. I’ve seen what they eat – there’s a LOT of beans, maize and vegetables in their diet. They don’t have the money or opportunity to buy highly fatty foods, as far as I can see. They rarely eat the dairy products that we consume so much of in our Western world and consumer little meat as it’s a real luxury here.

They certainly don’t have the luxury of cars to drive in, which is what makes a lot of us Westerns fat! They walk everywhere, usually with a heavy bucket on their head. All of this leads me to believe their rotund bodies are as a result of genetics, as someone suggested to me. Apparently thousands of years ago when Africans were hunters and gatherers, their bodies stored fat and so their genetic make-up is now programmed to do that. It seems like a fairly reasonable explanation to me because none of the large ladies that I have met so far seem like they have a lot of money to spend on food.

As I drove along a road today, I watched some large local women walking along. To judge them by our Western standards, these women were fat – they would possibly even be classified as obese. They would be the pariahs of our society. And yet, as I observed them sashaying along, in bright skirts or sarongs, matching tops, some wearing matching bandanas and standing tall, I couldn’t help marvel at how beautiful and elegant they looked. And I would be very happy to be their size, if I could carry it off in such a stylish way. They really looked fabulous.

One of our local teachers recently remarked to one of our Western teachers “You’re getting fat, soon you will be the fattest”. The Western teacher was quite appalled and insulted, not realizing that it was a big compliment in Africa. Her African colleague still struggles to understand why she was insulted!

In fact, in complete contrast to our world, in Africa it’s a very admirable thing to be fat. Apart from the genetic make-up, to be rich symbolises health and wealth, much in the same was that having white skin in Asia is a sign of wealth (the lower class in Asia work outdoors in the sun in Asia and have tanned skin, so many aspire to have white skin, as a symbol of wealth)..

So while many starve in Africa, and struggle for food, in the Western world only a few thousand miles away, the mindset is completely different – light-years away! We suffer from more emotional maladies when it comes to food; we have become obsessed by diets, and for many this obsession turns into one of a variety of eating disorders like anorexia or bulimia. And although I would never undermine the seriousness of these illnesses, it seems ridiculous that we should suffer from our excess of food or worst still starve ourselves voluntarily, while others die from the lack of it!

It reminds me of the water situation; there is either too much (New Orleans) or too little (Tanzania). It feels like our world is just a little bit mixed up and I can’t help but think the guilty ones are we in the West.

Close Encounters

When I was in University, I went to America one summer with a group of friends, to work and experience a new culture. Most of us traveled there together and we picked up a couple of strays along the way. There were around ten of us in a five bedroom house for three months. Because we were all working long hours, to pay for our trip and subsidise our big nights out, we were rarely all home at the same time. There were a few personality clashes, acerbic notes on the fridges (The “could whoever took my blue cheese PLEASE return it as it was very expensive” type of thing). But all in all, it was peaceful. And until recently, that was my only experience of group living and the dynamics therein.

For the last couple of years I’ve really enjoyed the luxury of living on my own. I’ve had lots of space, time to myself, a very busy working life and a pretty active social-life. So I rarely spend more than a couple of hours at a time with anyone, except perhaps on a camping trip. And that’s something I only do with very close friends.

And now my life has changed very radically. I’m living with around 25 other volunteers who come from a variety of backgrounds and countries. I never met any of them before I came here. We all work in the school in a variety of capacities. Twelve of us live in a volunteer house which is a long living room with a table down the centre, and bedrooms on each side. The others live in a building opposite in shared or single rooms. Essentially we all live within a stone’s throw of each other.

During the week, we all work at the school in our respective positions. We often pass each other during the day. Lunch is in the main dining area and many of us eat together. After school, sometimes we play sports like volleyball or soccer. Some nights we go to the local bar at the edge of the school. Other times we go out for dinner. Sometimes people go out with their boyfriends/ girlfriends or maybe spend time alone. But for the greater part, during the week, most of us are around the volunteers living quarters and spending time together. For dinner, we eat together. One person takes a turn at cooking each night, with a little assistance.

On Saturdays, a LOT of shopping is done to feed everyone for the week. This involves a trip into town, usually with around ten people. It’s an event into itself.

On a Friday and/ or Saturday night there is often a night out in town for dinner, to a bar or a nightclub. Not everyone goes but a lot do. And then, on a Sunday afternoons there’s often an excursion to a local national park, a lodge (for swimming) or something similar.

If it wasn’t obvious from the above description, take my word for it, these are fairly intense living conditions. You aren’t with everyone for every minute of the day – but usually you’re with someone. And in a situation like this, the people you live with are random strangers from all walks of life who you might never otherwise encounter. Some, you wouldn’t choose to spend time with, if you could choose. Others you would. Some have lots of baggage, others have hand luggage. Others are running from something.

I think it’s fair to say that to make the decision to come to a third world country and commit to it from three to twelve months takes a considerable amount of courage. So there are a lot of strong personalities competing for space. Everyone has a story, a past and many have big personalities. But everyone is there and has to learn to live together.

The first couple of days, I felt like I was on Big Brother without the cameras or the big prize at the end. I wonder how quickly I’d have been evicted!! : ) There is a fairly high turnover; constant new arrivals and regular departures - new personalities are coming into the mix all the time. And like Big Brother, not everyone gets on. And that’s to be expected – there are 25 of us ranging from 20 to 65.

So little groups form, very quickly as it transpires. Like-minded people seek each other out. Some get left out while they try to work out where they fit in. Bitching happens, gossip is fairly common. Tensions are sometimes running high and other times all is at peace. But mostly it sorts itself out as people work out how to cope with it.

New people come into the fold and try to find their place. Older members often sit back and see how it plays out. And sometimes, like a pack of animals, there’s a power struggle. One of my friends remarked how similar it sounds to the army, with hierarchies and personalities at play.

Sometimes it’s exhausting, constantly being around people, having to make an effort, dealing with so many personalities. And a fair amount of energy is consumed on learning how to switch off, accepting you can’t get on with everyone and at the same time, learning how to live in harmony. There’s a very small boundary between work and life. There’s certainly no spatial boundary, as we’re living on the school campus.

But one thing I really enjoy about this experience is the chance to meet new people constantly. So often in our lives, we spend time with the same people day in, day out. We might not expand our group of friends for years or meet an interesting new person for months at a time unless we move in a new circle or make a specific effort to meet new people. In a place like this, one day a person can arrive who is an absolute gem – someone you might never otherwise get to meet. You meet a person who makes you laugh, or who can tap into a side of your personality that few can. It’s so random and unexpected. And suddenly you have a new friend!

And then there are the children at the school, who tug on your sleeve, gaze and you and smile or pass you notes telling you they love you because you did something small for them. It’s really quite life-changing.

After a year or so of this, the novelty of new friends and these beautiful children may have worn off. But for the time being, these encounters make the harder parts worthwhile!

Jackline - a sponsor child

This is my parent's sponsor-child, Jacqueline Mrosso, and I. Jacqueline has just joined the school - this is a photo of her in her new uniform. She's a really smiley child who is a little shy. She was born on 16th December 1999 so she will be 7 this year. She has one brother. Her father doesn't work as the shop he worked at was robbed so now he has no job. Her mother sells second hand clothes to earn money.

Her family live in a wood house with no windows. There are three rooms in the house which they share with another family. So they share a common living room and then have a bedroom for each family.

Jackline (also spelt Jacklin or Jacklini) is pretty smart. In many of her tests, she has gotten 100%. She wants to be doctor when she grows up! : )

On a night out at an East African fashion show, we girls got dressed up in an attempt to outshine the models... we think we did but some might not agree!!

Tanzania calls for aid as food reserves dip
taken from online news source - IOL Africa - February 14 2006 at 01:12AM
(http://www.iol.co.za/index.php?click_id=68&art_id=qw1139863322147B235&set_id=

Dodoma - Tanzania on Monday appealed for 100 000 tons of relief food to help nearly four million people threatened by famine in the wake of a scorching drought that is ravaging several East African nations."The food shortage is acute and widespread. May I on behalf of the government of Tanzania officially request you to consider the situation and assist?" Prime Minister Edward Lowassa asked a meeting of donors in the administrative capital Dodoma.Lowassa said an assessment done by the National Food Security Information Team (FSIT) showed that 3,7-million people were at risk of famine and needed 99 676 tons of relief food between February and April.

"This is alarming and needs immediate attention," said Lowassa, explaining that there were only 57 620 tons of food in the government's Strategic Grain Reserves.Tanzania, a nation of about 35-million people, is one of four East African countries worst-hit by the by the drought which has seen the failure of rains in some places for five years and put some eight million people at risk of starvation across the region.In addition to Tanzania, the United Nations estimates that eight million people in Kenya, Ethiopia, Somalia and Djibouti are on the brink of starvation due to the drought. - Sapa-AFP

Peter, the youngest boy in the school!

Peter, at the age of only three and a half is the youngest student at the School of St Jude. Normally, pupils start at around the age of five. However, exceptions are made in certain circumstances, such as in this case. Peter's mother died and his father is left looking after a large family, of which Peter is the youngest. Gemma agreed to take Peter into the school, at the request of the community, to help the family out. For the first few weeks, Peter was a little dazed and confused. But now, he seems to be fitting in rather well. His shorts are more like long trousers on him, and his shoes are enormous. But he smiles a lot and gets a LOT of attention for his peers and the staff, and really, that's the most important thing!

Ants on a Mole-hill - the new
climbing frame

The other day, workmen completed making a new climbing frame for the yard. It was pretty incredible to witness the sight of hundreds of children clambouring and elbowing for a place on it, only a few hours after it had been set in place...

How not to learn in Africa!

I found this article in the Arusha Times, the local weekly newspaper, the same that it sung our praises as a school. It seems an absolute tragedy, nay travesty, that there is such an enormous gap between the two schools... But if this is a regular problem, it just re-inforces the need for schools like this, to ensure African children get an oportunity to learn in a decent environment

My friend Enjuvai in 3D

In my first week, I think I wrote about my little friend Enjuvai in 3D. She is around 11 though it's hard to say, as they rarely know themselves.


I met Enjuvai when she received a present from her sponsor, and I was asked to give it to her, take a photo and send it to her sponsor. The following day I received the cutest letter from Enjuvai, thanking me ("Miss Mery") for giving her the present that her sponsor gave her (have a look at a copy of the letter... it's fantastic!).

Since then, Enjuvai and her posse regularly visit me in the uniform, sometimes to buy a pair of socks (they cost around 50c) - I'd say every friend of Enjuvai's now has a new pair of socks! Yesterday, as I reported, I received another letter from Enjuvai telling me about her family and asking about mine, my favouite subject and animal so I dutifully replied and gave it to her. Today, I received an invitation to Enjuvat's house, to meet her family tomorrow! This is called a "homestay" and is something which volunteers regularly do, at the invitation of families.

So tomorrow, I will take the bus home with Enjuvai to Namberc (don't ask me where that is), and I'll stay with her family for dinner, sleep there, and then go to school with her the following morning. I'll probably share a bed with several children, and hopefully sleep under a mosquito net. So now I have to find some presents to bring along. I'll probably bring some sugar, rice, biscuits and other things that the family would not normally have. I think I'll bring my dictionary too, since I doubt they speak any English. And I'll bring some photos of my family!

It certainly is a privelege to be invited, and I'm sure it will be an absolute eye-opening experience. I'll be reporting back soon!

WATER - OR THE LACK OF - A MAJOR PROBLEM

After many sheltered years in plentiful Ireland (well, except for money until the Celtic Tiger roared), I was shocked when I moved to Australia to realize how some developing countries have real water shortages and that no amount of money really can change a climate. The only real option is to be careful with water and educate the masses.

With that as a background, I probably should have been prepared for the water shortages in Africa. After all, Africa is renowned for disease, famine and drought. I was well aware of the two former issues, in fact many of my friends, family and colleague had given me the “AIDS” talk, and I’d have been dumb not to expect the hunger issue. And yet, for some reason the drought issue didn’t really occur to me.

As I think I mentioned last week, Tanzania (and Kenya) have been officially declared drought-zones. It’s hard to explain the enormity of the problem – I’m here and I can barely take it in. For the last week, as we heard that water was becoming a problem, I didn’t really understand how big the problem was. But when it translated into a power problem, we all became aware VERY quickly!

The issue is that we work off hydro-electric power which is generated from Mount Meru, Tanzania’s third largest mountain which is just behind the school. Now that we are in desperate times, we have to conserve power in order to converse water. Last week, it was decided Arusha would be without power for two days a week (staggered across the city) for around eight hours. WE all groaned a little but we have a couple of generators here so we dealt with it. As the enormity of the problem came to light this week, the government realized this measure wasn’t enough to make a difference. So now, there is no power from 7am – 7pm every day.

This leaves the school, and for that matter every business in Arusha, somewhat in a quandary – how to get power. Our generators (largely diesel operated I believe) just aren’t good enough to power the entire school every single day. We need more! Fortunately we had a little money to buy some – but there aren’t any available!!! So now we play the waiting game – we’re hoping to get another one or two soon. Without them, it is very difficult to run a school which is becoming pretty big – no water, no lights, no bells, no computers, no plugs…. Cooking is difficult with the water situation but fortunately we don’t require power for it as it’s done over fires (I’ll have to get a photo of that).

Gemma addressed all the staff today about how dire the problem is in the country, warning that it would last up to two years. She spoke about conserving water and teaching students to do the same; while washing hands, using drinking water, using the toilets etc. It brought home the seriousness of the situation as the entire staff came to terms with how we would cope with this situation for possibly two years!

One of the girls in the office commented on how ironic it seems that in other parts of the world there have been hurricanes and such an overload of water, while people are literally starving for it. And how true that is.

And of course, the water and power shortages affect us before and after school; getting water for showers, cooking food, everything really! But you deal with it because you have to and well, it’s Africa, and that’s what happens here. It’s a reality for the locals and now it’s a reality for us Mzungu!!! Most of us were after an authentic experience and that’s certainly what we’re getting. I hope it always makes me appreciate just how fortunate we are in the Western world but then I think that many, many times a day now! It does make me wonder though how long the developed world will enjoy such a privilege. As the planet heats up and climates change, it seems inevitable to me that this is just the tip of the iceberg… as it were!
Ants on a Molehill – the new climbing frame
Today our workmen

Some Tanzanian Customs

One of the things I find most fascinating about living in such a radically different culture, is finding out about the little quirks, differences and idiosyncracires of the customs and indeed the natives.

For example, in Tanzania, a wife and her children take their Father’s first name as their last name/ surname. So, if John Martin married Jaqueline Jones, she becomes Jaqueline John and the children are eg. Frank John, Mark John etc. Essentially it means that first and last names sound and effectively are interchangeable and not really a separate commodity, in the way that they are in the Western World, except that one is the first name and the other is the last name!

Another little quirk that I’ve noticed here is younger children all take off their shoes before entering the classroom. Older children don’t for some reason that I haven’t quite worked out yet.

A really fascinating sight to witness is the open affection between boys and men. Unlike the Western civilization, where men are extremely loath to show any physical signs of affection (a firm handshake or perhaps a matey pat on the back is around the limit of physical contact), a lot of African boys and quite a few men, sling their arms around each other’s shoulders and some even hold hands, the way that young girls in our society do. It’s done in such a casual, relaxed way that it’s really a lovely sight to behold.

For a while I couldn’t quite understand why I found it difficult to differenciate locals from each other. I will happily admit that in the beginning, it was because I was simply getting used to the colour of their skin, as I really am unfamiliar with the African complexion, in the same way that they think most Caucasians look the same. Only when I became familiar with the African skin could I start to pick up the subtle skin tone differences, face shapes and various other distinguishing qualities which each person has. It is a little hard though because all Africans have black hair and to make it more confusing, the children in the school all have very short hair (like, shaved short). Because water is so scarse and they just can’t afford shampoo, having very short hair is a practical solution. Some let it grow a little bit and then plait it very finely to their scalp. A popular hairstyle among young girls is to plait their hair so that it stands up in an arc on their head – that’s called a “Kilimanjaro” for obvious reasons.

I guess the hardest part in distinguishing the children is because they are all in uniform and wear hats, so it really is hard to pick one from the other. But every day I recognize another child so I’m hoping soon I will know many of them. And I’ll be distinguishing a Kilimanjaro hairstyle from a banana one!!!

FANTASTIC NEWS!

Just a few weeks ago (Jan 06) the school got results from the first state exams that our students sat at the end of last year.

Of the seventeen students who sat the exam, five came in the top ten in their gender in the state (from more than 17,000 students) and the school came THIRD out of 700. And what is more, one of our students came joint FIRST of the .

Pretty amazing result you have to agree, after just four years.
On the right is a copy of an article published in the Arusha times. The text will be pretty hard to read so I've copied it below:

The Best Fourth Birthday Present Imaginable!

It finally came! The letter announcing the 2005 Standard Four results, the letter that everyone at the School of St Jude had been waiting for. From the string of exclamations, the broad smile and the tears in her eyes, it was obvious to the staff gathered in the office of the 700-student school, that the Director was receiving great news.

The report was that the school’s first Standard Four students had achieved an average mark of 90.8%, which placed the school THIRD out of 204 schools in the Arumeru District! And FIVE of the students were in the TOP 10 in their gender group! This was the best fourth birthday present for the school (which opened in 2002 with three children!) and a remarkable achievement as 17,581 children from the Arumeru District had sat the exam.

Congratulations must go to Chem Chem and St Margreths for achieving the highest and second highest average mark respectively and also to Trust St Patrick (6th), Fikiri Kwanza (14th), Green Acres (15th), Kilimani (17th), Usa River Academy (39th) and St Thomas (47th) who were also among the top 50 schools. St Jude's is proud to join these local schools in working to ensure a high standard of private education for the present and future generations of young Tanzanians.

When Gemma Sisia transformed a corn plot in Moshono village into an English medium primary school for the extremely poor and disadvantaged children of the district, it was an arduous struggle against all odds to gain acceptance of and belief in the project.

Many people assumed that the school would fail – what could an inexperienced young Australian woman know about building and running a school in Tanzania? They didn’t know of her strength and determination. What was her motive? They didn’t know of her passion for good education and strong religious beliefs. How would she find support? They didn’t know of her powers of persuasion and perseverance. People in Arusha and around the world now know all of this and The School of St Jude is the result.

Gemma’s previous experience of volunteering in Uganda had awakened her to the realisation that good and accessible education for all children was Africa’s only real salvation. Without it the following generations of the continent’s poor majority would continue to spiral down into the poverty cycle to a life of hard manual labour, crime or untimely death. Education would reverse that downward spiral.

Over 90% of the 700 students at St Jude’s receive a totally free education as their sponsors, found locally and around the world, cover the cost of their education fees, uniforms, stationery, transport and food. To ensure that the generosity of these caring people is not squandered, the opportunity of sponsorship is offered to bright and ambitious children from very poor families. The children and their families are very aware of their fortunate situation and work hard to prove they are worthy of this privilege.

Watch out for the likes of Esuvat Ojungo (1st), Alex Elifas (5th), Eiludi William (8th), Athumani Hemedi (8th) and Cecilia Benedict (8th) who took out the top places in their gender group of the large group of candidates– these are the future leaders of Tanzania.

These diligent boys and girls will be inspired to continue their studies through high school and on to University with the unstinting support and encouragement from their proud parents and over 110 hard working, dedicated and highly skilled local and western staff. Teachers, administrators, volunteers, bus drivers, cooks, cleaners and fundis as well as the thousands of sponsors and donors from around the world who all support Gemma Sisia and The School of St Jude.

In December 2006 more than 120 Standard Four students from The School of St Jude will sit the same exam and with equal support will attaining similar excellent results. Watch this space next year!

The School of St Jude’s website is www.schoolofstjude.co.tz Visitors are welcome

How it all works at The School of St Jude

The most frequent question I am asked is how it all works here. Before I left, I had a vague guess for it all but really, I was guessing because I knew only what I had read on the website (www.schoolofstjude.co.tz) and the piece on Australian Story, a weekly series on ABC in Australia (www.abc.net.au)

Now that I've been here a couple of weeks, I've a much better idea, so here's the spiel.

The School of St Jude is for students who have are bright/ motivated AND are very poor. Let’s face it, unless you’re very rich here, chances are you’re pretty poor. It’s just a question of how poor. In any case, above two pre-requisites and both must be met. The academic year here is from January to early December (it’s the Southern Hemisphere remember). From August/ September every year, there are entrance exams for prospective pupils every Friday. In the last year there have been as many as a fifteen hundred pupils queueing each Friday for around 20 places, which are given every week over around 7 weeks (there are around 140 new students admitted each year, broken down into five classes of 28). The exam is a basic maths and reading test. If the student passes, he or she must come back the following morning with certain paperwork. If they don’t pass, they can re-sit the exam the following Friday if they choose.

Those students who have met the academic requirements now have to produce certain paperwork in order to qualify for the next part of the entrance process. So on the Saturday they must bring things like a birth or baptismal certificate, copy of any academic records/ old school tests. This seems to be where the problems arise... Because the school is free for students and is gaining a fantastic reputation, parents are desperate for their children to study here. So it seems that they try every trick in the book. Some send older children to sit the exams for a younger one, to ensure they pass the written exam. This becomes apparent when the school compares old academic records with the recent exam and the handwriting is different!

It would appear too that the forging of official documents isn’t a problem either. Birth and baptismal certificates are doctored all too often (some are better than others at it). And then there are the children who are far older than they say, in attempt to get into a class. The only way of telling really, if the paperwork is in order, is to look at their height. Which is unfortunate for tall children, especially those from the Masai families as they are frequently tall.

The main problem is that Africa is not a country where paperwork is meticulously issued and kept. Many children are orphaned or one of many, or they’re fostered out to relatives, and they have no official paperwork. Others don’t know exactly how old they are or when their birthday is, and many others are very small or tall for their age. So ascertaining a child’s age isn’t a matter of checking the relevant documentation. And although, a lack of paperwork doesn’t mean they aren’t entitled to come to the school, there must be some system to sift out the most worthy students!

By the time the paperwork process is complete, the list has been greatly whittled substantially because so many can’t substantiate facts, or worse still many have been crossed off the list as have been shown to be lying about something.

Those who passed the exam and produced the relevant paperwork need to know prove their financial status to qualify for the “poor” part of the test. They receive a house visit – this is called a “house check” at the school. The aim of this visit is to establish how poor the family actually are. Someone from the school goes along to a child’s house, usually with an interpreter, whereupon they complete paperwork about the financial circumstances of the family – they will check what the house is made of (wood, mud or concrete), if they rent or own it, if they have running water (most don’t), whether either parents are working and how many siblings there are. It would seem that most mothers work in the market. They usually sell a few vegetables that they have grown. It seems that 90% of what they grow is for a subsistence living and the remainder is sold at the market.

At the student's house, the St Jude staff member needs to make sure that (a) the child lives here (many borrow relatives houses which are smaller than their own) and (b) that they haven’t removed things from the house to exaggerate their poverty. Of course, knowing if someone is in a friend or relatives is very hard. You can count the people in the house and check that it corresponds with the paperwork they completed. The problem is that families are larger than the obvious. Children often refer to their older siblings as brothers or sisters, but younger siblings are “babies” or not mentioned at all! Relatives are sometimes considered family members and sometimes not! Many children live with relatives… it’s all very confusing.

At the end of the day, what the school wants to do is establish if children are poor and bright enough. It seems awful to have to knock back someone because they don’t have one piece of paper or because something might be forged. Almost everyone around here is poor and desperate. And for me there is no question that every one of these children deserves an education. At first I was sad that only the bright children got in, but I guess if you have to choose, it makes sense to take those with most potential. Hopefully eventually as the school grows, those with less potential will get in. But you have to draw the line somewhere, and because of this system, there are now almost 700 Tanzanians receiving the finest education .

And it really is a fine education! The Tanzanian education system is a fairly grueling one. Classes are enormous (with at least 50 people per class), there is a charge for tuition, books, uniforms and there is no transport, so most students walk. And there are no meals. At this school, children get all of that free, as a part of their sponsorship. It means that they get the whole package. If we were relying on them to pay for books or uniforms or transport it just wouldn't be viable. Many of them don't even have the money to buy a mozzie net!

Because government schools are underfunded and have few resources and teachers, weaker students are weeded out quickly. At the end of Standard 4 when students are around 10, they must sit government exams. They have to then sit them again at the end of Standard 7 (around 13 years old). In order to get into secondary school, students have to pass both exams. Many don't make it past that point, which is the aim really, because there are so few secondary schools and even less funding.

Which is why it's so important that at schools like St Jude, students are given the best education so they CAN make it to secondary school. Only by doing that do they have a chance to reverse the poverty cycle that for so long has kept Africa poor.

Just call me Miss Mary, the Uniform Queen

To date, I have mostly been working on uniforms. When a new child comes to the school (and there are around 140 every year, they receive a new school uniform. Boys get
A pair of runners/ trainers, 2 pair of socks, 2 pair of shorts, 2 shirts, a sweater, a tie and a hat. Girls receive a pair of runners/ trainers, 2 pair of socks, two dresses, a sweater and a hat. My job has been to make sure the children get their new uniforms, that they fit properly, and that we have enough stock to dress them all.

Once the new uniforming process is finished, we then give new uniforms to around 70% of existing pupils. They receive one of everything except shoes and socks. They used to get new shoes and socks and indeed an entire uniform every eighteen months. Then Gemma realized that most children were wearing shoes and socks after school so she offered the parents a deal: instead of uniforming them every 18 months, she would do so every 12 months, if parents agreed to buy shoes and socks. And it seems to be working very well.

So next on my list is to get around 500 children into new uniforms. The problem is that we need the stock quicker than anyone can supply it. We order form a local store, who can’t make it quick enough. Once we receive the stock (eg the shirts or dresses) they then are sent to a local man put machine sews fabric onto each colour, to represent which house each boy/ girl is in. There are four houses; red, blue, yellow and green. Every child is a member of one house. They will stay with that house for the duration of their time at the school. In Harry Potter-esque style, house points are awarded for good behaviour and deducted for those children who do not behave!

Once the collars have been sewn, they come back to the Uniform Room of Miss Mary! At that point, we get the students and give them their new uniform! It’s a LONG process but I get to meet all the children. I’ve spent a lot of time doing inventories on the current stock, working out how much more we need, and sorting out every sock, shirt, tie, dress and whole lot more!

We are also putting all boys into long trousers (as opposed to knee-length shorts) from May. In order to work out how many to order and which sizes, we got three pair of sample pants made up, and then get boys in every year to try them on. We worked out the average height for each year and based our order on that. Well, I did! So, when the pants arrive, if they’re completely wrong, it’s all my fault!

One of the things we look for when we give the children a new uniform are signs of malnutrition, such as body ulcers or lesions. We don’t worry too m uch about AIDS in the school because generally children will acquire it in-utero when the mother is pregnant, so they start to show signs by the time they are four or five. They only come to the school at around the age of six, and other than undernourishement, most children are healthy. But we do sometimes see evidence of malnutrition. I saw my first case of such today. A young, smiley boy came for his new uniform. When we took his sweater off, I n oticed he had a large lump, almost like the shape of an egg, protruding from his stomach and including his belly-button. He also had ulcers up and down his leg, was bow legged and showed signs of rickets! I had a nurse look at him and she confirmed he probably had a hernia, rickets and malnutrition! And yet this young boy looked really very happy to be there. He didn’t look miserable or distracted. But it still broke my heart because he probably has never been to a doctor. We wasn’t well dressed but he was clean, so he most likely has a mother who tries her best but can only do so much! And when I think of how frequently our mothers took us to the doctor when we sniffled or coughed, I think of how unfair it is that so many children will never see a doctor.

In between my job as Ms Mary the Uniform Queen, I am trying to get my teeth into some marketing. There is so much potential for some really good direct marketing, some corporate PR and various other fundraising and PR activities. I’m very excited about it as it’s a whole new challenge for me. My knowledge of NGOs, how they operate and the whole protocol is fairly limited but I’m sure what I lack in knowledge, I’ll make up for in enthusiasm! And let’s face it, it’s easy to get enthusiastic about such a good cause. Just like everyone else, I’ve been making rich people richer. Now, I’m getting an opportunity to help make the poor, well, more equal. Though unfortunately it will take many many years, though most likely decades, to take these people even remotely close to the standard of living that we enjoy. But the road to anywhere has to start with a few steps and in four short years, this school has moved light years!

A highly unusual Valentines Day... but a great one!

Happy Valentines Day!

It's week three and I've just had my first Valentine's Day in Africa! To celebrate the day, and because our dear friend Charlotte is going back to Ireland, four of us (all female) decided to go for dinner in Arusha, the major town a few kilometers from the school.

Around five buses leave the school around 6pm after our Standard 4 children finish after-school study (in preparation for state exams at the end of the year). So we took one of those buses into Arusha with the children and staff. The bus took us quite a few diversions in order to drop everyone off and we were one of the last stops. What a fascinating way to see the local area! We sat beside a couple of teachers who gave us a running commentary. I really have been sheltered in the school the last two weeks. I know in theory that the people beyond our cushy compound are poor, and I’ve been to some developing countries like Vietnam but this is different. This is really, really, really poor. And I suspect I’ve barely scratched the surface of the poverty that lies behind the town.

So I’ve decided that at least two days a week we will take a different bus and just see where it goes, since all the buses come back to the school after everyone has been dropped off. I’m sure we will gain some fascinating insights in the process.

We planned to go to a nice Indian restaurant but it was close so we ended up in an outdoor restaurant called Khans Barbeque on Mosque St (so named because there’s a mosque on the corner). Owned by an Indian family, it is a mechanic’s workshop by day. By night it is transformed into an open air, on-the-street barbeque, with tables along the footpath/pavement. It sounds awful but it’s really very charming. There is a variety of barbequed meat, and for the veggies, there is every imaginable dip and salad (again, a lot of beans and maize products as usual).

So we four, single women had a fabulous Valentine’s dinner in this most unorthodox and very tasty restaurant on a narrow and yet busy barely paved street in the middle of Arusha, with cars, hand-drawn wheelbarrows pedestrians and worshipping muslims going to the Mosque milling past. There were a cacophony of sounds but it was never intrusive or overly distracting – in fact it was quite comforting level of busieness. Overall, it was a Valentine’s night I’m sure I will remember, which is more than I can say for most others!

I did get one card from my friend Enjuvai in 3D (she would be around eleven). She drew my pictures of butterflies and flowers and wrote me a little letter telling me about herself, and asking me questions about myself. I was unsure how to reply or in fact, whether or not to, but what the hell, I bought her a little card and answered her questions about my family, my favourite subject and my favourite animal! I've promised I'll even show her a picture of my darling dog Ben.

BAD NEWS IS ONLY IN THE PAPERS...

I just realised today that this place really is a cocoon. I haven't had access to a radio, tv or newspaper in the time that I've been here, almost two weeks, and I barely noticed it. I definitely don't miss the TV but I can't decide if I miss hearing the news. I'll probably start reading some on the internet but there's something very nice about being so secluded for a while. Every time I turn on the TV/ Radio or open a paper, 80% of the content is bad news. I know it's an ostrich approach but sometimes I just can't bear any more news of torture, greed, rage or any of the other deadly sins for that matter. It's nice being in a place where things are getting better. So here's a nice piece of news

There's a student in the school whose family live way, way up the mountain and she has had to leave home at 5am to get to school ontime. If this girl misses her bus, by the time she gets here it's too late to go to school. Gemma, the school director, has been looking for a local family to take her in during the week, so this girl can continue her studies but to date wasn't successful. Today, by chance, a local lady who helps many such children, was in the school and the topic came up. The lady immediately agreed to house our student during the week, for no cost at all. Now the child will be able to stay there Monday to Friday, get some more sleep, probably better food, do her homework and go home at weekends.

Sometimes there is good news!

STAFF PHOTO DAY AT ST JUDES

For the first time in the history of the school, there was a staff photograph taken last week, which had every staff member but one.

I counted 130 people in it but that was a bit of a guesstimate. But you get the picture (pardon the pun). The photo includes teachers, office staff, cleaners, cooks, bus-drivers, workmen (fundi) and anyone else who works in the school!

I'm in the third row, around four people in on the right hand side.

HAVING LITTLE IS A LOT

When I was packing, I was keenly aware of my 22kg baggage limit because my airline stressed that if I was overweight I’d be charged $50 per kilo (thank God that only applies to my baggage or I’d be broke)! With that in mind, I had to be careful about what I brought. So I was pretty frugal with my clothes and luxuries were few and far between. The most luxurious things I have are a bottle of perfume, my photos, some moisturizer and some nurofen! Oh yes, and chamomile tea. The rest of my stuff is split between Sydney and Dublin.

And yet, I don’t miss any of that “stuff” which his locked up in a storage unit in Sydney or a suitcase in Baldoyle. Except my trakkie daks! Occasionally I think, “oh I’d like to look at that book or where's that CD or photo or something”. But considering how much stuff is crammed into my very expensive storage unit, I now couldn’t tell you what most of it is.

AND…there’s nothing to spend money on here. Not yet anyway. My food is all covered in my US$10 a week contribution to the kitty and then I do a little shopping for breakfast stuff. My big treat was peanut butter and jam to put on my toast (not together, I’m NOT American). Other than that, the only thing I’ve needed to buy is water to drink. Pretty basic really. Beyond that, I just can't think of anything to buy and it's a really nice feeling. Surreal in fact!

It’s a big change after the Western, material-obsessed world where spending is a hobby and "things" are a measure of success. I’m sure they are here too among Africans but you really couldn't compare our idea of "things" to theirs since most of them just want stuff like electricity, running water, some new clothes, more food. I'm sure they do want for more though I can't conceive of what it is as I think about stuff like iPODs and DVd players and I doubt that's high on their agenda. Obviously it helps that their friends and relatives in the same position as them and that they're exposed to a lot less advertising than we are but again it's relative, and let's face it, they NEED far more things than we do.

I have everything need I have. The thing is, in Australia and Ireland, I also had everything I needed. In fact, I think I can safely say I always have, as have most of my friends and family (materially at least). But need and want are completely different things which are so often confused, for me anyway. It’s so easy to get caught up in the “I wants…” And suddenly, without realizing it, “I want” becomes “I need”… The lines get very blurred.

I was hoping that this year would going to highlight the distinction between the two and make me a lot more grateful for what I have. And yet, when I think about it now, it doesn't seem enough to just recognise that I have what they haven't... In fact, I'm wondering now if isn't a bit of a cop-out really to acknowledge and be grateful for my good luck. Having said that, I can't apologise for where I was born and the fact that I was fortunate enough to grown up in a place where education and food were a given. It's useless and a total waste of time feeling guilty. This has to about how we make it all a bit more equal.

Which brings me back to not being able to change the world. And yet, when I look at what Gemma, one person, did by starting this school, it become obvious that one person can make an extraordinary difference. Obviously she didn't do it alone but someone had to start it and many of us could but don't... she did and that's the difference!

KARIBU (WELCOME) MARY'S MIND!

I’m now half way through my second week in Tanzania and I think I felt my mind rocking up a couple of days ago. The first way, I felt pretty dazed, tired, overwhelmed and a whole range of feelings of many extremes. The last few days have been much better. I no longer feel like a deer in headlights…. Though some days I still wake up and wonder where the hell I am, as I try to claw my way out of the mozzie net that goes around my bed! Will have to take a photo of that one! It’s a pretty weird feeling to try to reach for your alarm clock from the other side of a mozzie net. I know I could sleep with it on my bed but I can just see it catapulting across the room in the middle of the night as I turn in my sleep.

Anyhow, I digress! I’m now getting used to things here. I’ve only ventured outside the school three or four times in the last ten days and always with others. But right now, I want to focus on learning how it all works here and then over the next month I’ll work out the whole African thing. Besides, there are so many children and staff here, I feel like I’m still exposed to Africa, albeit a very sheltered one.

I did hear of a child today whose parents are so poor that he doesn’t get breakfast and rarely gets dinner as his parents don’t work and they just don’t have any money. I know that shouldn’t surprise me because it’s Africa but it still does – it breaks my heart. And yet it’s so common I will have to accept that I can’t try to rescue every child in that situation. All we can do here it try to educate people so that the future is different. But seeing little ones with swollen bellies, skinny legs, ragged shoes and growths on their heads or arms just devastates me. And yet they smile so brightly when you look at them, and holding your hand seems to make their day.

So I guess right now all I can do is be here, hopefully change something small by what I do in the school and improve the bigger picture. But DAMN I want to help them all!

Dust, Dirt & Disease in Africa

I feel like my feet have been dirty since I arrived. I’m sure they’ve been dirty before but this is a new level of dirt. And it seems like no matter how much I shower and scrub them, they’re dirty again. I wear thongs most of the time (that’s flipflops for those in the Northern Hemisphere) so that probably doesn’t help but in this climate, it’s really the most practical thing. It’s just so sandy and dry that it’s almost impossible to be outside without getting dirty.

The washing of hands is one of the things that’s emphasized most – not because of the dirt and sand but because of the spread of germs. What with malaria around (not that it can be transmitted by dirty hands) and other stuff like stomach bugs and other nasty diseases, it’s really important to wash your hands before and after eating, the toilet and anything else you can think of. I don’t think I’ve ever washed my hands as often in my life, which seems kind of ironic since we’re in a drought and we should be water saving, but if we don’t well… it won’t be pleasant. So it’s a bit of a trade off really.

The whole Malaria thing is weird because I’ve no idea who to believe. I dutifully took three months worth of my tablets with me (the daily ones cos the weekly ones made me psycho…) but since I got here, I’ve been told that long-term use of them can cause liver aamage, and that you really only need to take them when you’re in a malaria infested area. We’re very high up, by Tanzanian standards (around 1200 metres I think) so they really aren’t that bad here. Having said that, I’m swatting one every couple of minutes tonight so it’s relative really! Apparently these particular mozzies don’t carry malaria much but then I’ve met quite a few people in the school who have had it. Another guy told me that the malaria mozzies only come out at night which his why we sleep under mozzie nets. Then again another person told me that Malaria really isn’t that bad and that there are different degrees and strains of it, and that the one we get here isn’t that bad and it isn’t the one you have for a lifetime. If this is true, you get a blood test when you think you have it, and if so take very strong antibiotics and then take another blood test afterward to confirm it’s gone! So I’m not sure what to do really as I don’t want to take these anti-malaria tablets for a year as it can’t be good but I just haven’t heard a convincing argument to persuade me otherwise yet.


Once of the sad things about living here is the appalling water situation. Last week Tanzania was declared to be in drought. I suspect the announcement came well after the fact. The school receives water from Mount Meru (second highest mountain after Kilimanjaro) though one pipe which supplies the entire village. During the day, we don’t get an awful lot because it’s dispersed to all the other parts of the village and we are fairly far down the line. Last year as numbers in the school grew (between visitors and students), the water became more of a problem, so they started to pump it from the very lowest point in order to get maximum catchment. It then gets sent to a variety of tanks which supply the school. It’s a lot more complicated than that but you get the drift. The problem now is that there just isn’t enough water in the country, so we’re all going to have to be more careful and frugal with our water.

To that end, I made signs today for the toilets with the old “If it’s yellow, let it mellow…” and you know the rest. Now we just have to all start to take shorter showers! I think a lot of the vollies here still think like Westerns. It’s very easy to forget you’re in an Africa of extremes and shortages when you’re just living in a cocoon like ours. But now that it’s been declared a drought zone, it’s time to take it seriously.

Below: Mr Thursday senses what is in store for him.

Right: The local market where traders vie for your attention to sell their fruit and veg.




African Markets, Meat and Masais
Saturday/ Sunday 4th & 5th Feb 2006

Well my first weekend in Tanzania was quite the cultural experience. I was thrown into Tanzanian life with gusto.

On Friday night Gemma threw a BBQ for all the volunteers in the school yard – there’s now around 30 of us. During the day there were a number of goats tied to trees in the school yard, bleating pitifully. As it transpires, we were eating goat that night, though not the ones that were tied to the trees. Our goat had been killed the previous day, someone informed me, as though that would be a source of comfort! It wasn’t! The BBQ was fired up by some of the Escari (security guards) and Mr Thursday Goat was loaded on, to be cooked, while his Friday friends bleated from their respective trees only a few metres away.

Suffice to say, Mr Thursday goat was eaten and apparently tasted well with salad AND in soup! I couldn’t face it so I had some lovely salad instead. It was pretty cool having our BBQ in the balmy African evening with the mountains in the background, in the middle of the school! Because we started the BBQ pretty early, I was in bed by 10.30

On Saturday morning, I was woken early as we were heading into town to do the shopping for our group. I had imagined we would do this in a supermarket (being the Westerner) but we went to the market.

Having already been to the market earlier in the week, I wasn’t too taken aback by it all! During our previous visit, Paul the Irish vollie co-ordinator had decided to drive through the main street onto which the market spills out from a nearby undercover area. Driving along here is kind of like trying to drive through a whole heap of cows in a field. It was bedhlam! So on the side of the road are a load of women, sitting on the side of the road (on the edge of the market) selling all sorts of things. Some were selling as little as a around 20 apples or oranges, and some were selling all manner of fruit and veg. Then there were the men pulling along carts, selling their ware, like mirrors, toothbrushes and various other incongruous items. Occasionally you see a man on a bike pulling a fridge with ice-creams (had to try one of those). And in between these men, vying for space were cars coming from both directions! And this is on a street that’s around 10 foot in width! It’s not surprising that it took us around 45 minutes to get up this street which his around 50 metres long! We didn’t even make it to the other end – we had to reverse onto a side street and out that way.

So, having had this experience, I found walking through the market on Saturday morning a much less stressful way to navigate my way through. The purpose was to buy enough food (fruit, veg, bread, powdered milk, pasta etc.) for our group for the next week. I would have thought we would work out what we were cooking but it’s not as scientific as that. We just bought a heap of veg and fruit and various other stuff and it seems to work well since I have yet to be hungry.

The hard part about buying the stuff is (a) the language and (b) knowing how to haggle. I’m certainly not afraid of the haggling part but it’s almost impossible to do this or be taken seriously without the language. Mzungu (foreigners) are often ripped off because, well, they can be and let’s face it, we have more money so people here don’t feel too guilty about it! I’d probably do it were I in their position – in fact, I know I would. Soooo, not having any Swahili makes it harder to bargain. Karin, the German girl who took me shopping, has excellent Swahili so she was able to get good prices. It seems to me that the way to approach it is head on. So when they tell you a price, you ask them if that’s a mzungu or local price. Of course they’ll tell you it’s a local price but by then you’ve communicated that you know the game… and you can usually negotiate from there. Of course I still have the problem of only having a few words in my Swahili vocabulary. So, I can ask how much something is “Shingapi?” but I don’t know my numbers so erm, it’s kind of useless! I’m starting Swahili classes tomorrow morning so I expect to be fluent by Monday! Ahem!

On Sunday, we had a “vollie” outing to a nearby Masi Market. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t quite the same as the reality . I suppose when I think of the Masai, I think of the spears and possibly of them dancing, though how much of that is based on fact I don’t know. I suppose I always associate tribes with spears and dancing. Anyhow, not a spear or dance was to be seen at the market. We rocked up in our big bus to the edge of a flat, dry, sandy field. It was barren beyond belief! And in the field were perhaps a hundred stalls – ie blankets on the ground with the various items for sale such as fabric, old clothes, baskets, jewellery, shoes (made from tyres… yes really), fruit, vegetables, some goat (presumably Mr Sunday this time). I bought some lovely bright, local fabric with which I am having a skirt made. There are no clothes shops here to speak off, everyone has their clothes made by a tailor (transl. Local woman with a sewing machine). In fact, on a lot of streets, you will notice women sitting on the side of the road, sewing frantically on their antiquated machines. They do very good work. And yet ironically, it seems that with the children with ripped uniforms in the school, their mama’s never mend them (yes, as the Uniform Queen I notice such things!)

What I enjoyed most about the market was meeting the local people. They’re very friendly, even if you don’t want to buy anything – my new phrase was “Hapana, Asana” which means, No thank you. I even added Mama or Baba with a flourish at the end for old women or men, respectively. But who would have ever thought that saying “no thank you” would be such an effort but with a completely new language it really is. I’m just not used to that.

Three quarters the way back to the school, the bus broke down (I’m not sure why but they kept pouring water into the engine so maybe it was overheating….). Suffice to say, it wouldn’t go any further. So, in true Western style, we took taxis home which cost less than $5 between four of us for a 15 journey (first along the nice paved road and then along the dry, unpaved bumpy one closer to the school)!

Once again I was filthy by the time we returned. I just can’t seem to stay clean here, especially my feet. I’ve resigned myself to having dirty feet for the rest of the year! It's quite a liberating feeling really!

NEW PUPILS AT THE SCHOOL OF ST JUDE, TANZANIA

Tuesday 2nd February 2006


BEFORE & AFTER THE NEW UNIFORM






Well, it's day 5 here and in many ways it feels like week five. I'm taking in so much, doing so many new things, in so many respects it's information overload. I suppose if I were comparing it to a learning curve I'd be heading almost vertically at the moment. I have a new home; a new job; I'm in a new country with a new culture, a different climate and I have new friends and no family here! Am I sounding melodramatic?

I've lived in France, Australia and America and travelled around lots of places but nothing could have prepared me for this! It's just so very intense in a way that I've never experienced before. I'm sure it all won't feel like that in a couple of months but right now, every little thing is new to me that every day feels like a week or even a month. It's exciting, challenging, exhausting, scary, intimidating and exhilirating. And I'm happy that I'm doing it because I thought and talked about it ad nauseum for so long. I never believed I would do it - it felt like someone else was going. So now I'm living my life vocariously through myself! If that's possible and not a complete oxymoron (or is it just moron!!)

So I have a new home and there's no question about it, I've NEVER lived like this before. In fact, that's probably the most intense part of this experience and it's not even very African! First of all, we live in something equivalent to a compound. We live on the school grounds and they are surrounded by gates and there are guards (with dogs, albeit very friendly ones... so far... fingers crossed they'll stay that way) patrolling the place all night. It was pretty intimidating at first because the sight of the guards makes it immediately obvious that there ist the possiblity of a threat.

It all probably sounds far worse than it actually is but it's similar to how there are guards outside all banks in Ireland now - there aren't often problems but if they aren't standing there, there may be. Here it's the norm to have a guard because there's such a vast gap between rich and poor that anyone who owns anything needs to protect it. Apparently though there have never been ANY security problems here because the family are very respected for what they've done for the community. And long may it continue!

We can go out of the school at any time, and it's only guarded at night, so it's not as though it's safe to go out on our own. Having said that, us new "vollies" tend to venture out in groups at the moment. I'm sure it makes for interesting viewing for the locals. The local town in just around 6 or 7 kilometres away. As I mentioned before, unfortunately the road is only paved to within about three kilometres of the school, so travelling that last few kilometres from town to the school is pretty hellish as it's along a rocky, uneven dirt track which is a nightmare to drive on and I can only imagine how much it's going to hurt my arse when I cycle on it, not to mention how it will look when it's been raining - a mud bath I would imagine! Aside from that, it's creates enormous problems for the school buses which have to drive along it every day, as they drive the children to and from school. There are regularly problems with the suspension and various other car/ bus parts that I certainly don't know the names of and wouldn't hazard a guess at but you get the drift!

Suffice to say, we're a few kilometres out of town so I'm more isolated that I've been in the past, especially having lived in the heart of Newtown in Sydney for the last few years. There are around 25 of us living in a couple of buildings with a yard inbetween the two buildings. It's a pretty good setup - more than I had hoped for. I really didn't know what to expect in terms of facilities. There's electricity in our building, good cooking facilities and a fridge and a new recreation room has just been finished which will be good as the evening can stretch between dinner and bed (can you believe it, I go to bed around 10.30/11pm! There's no TV here (hallejuia!), not that I had expected one. It's just so nice to have an environment devoid of the babble box! Some people play cards, some go to the local town for things like rugby or yoga, others go and meet friends. Those of us who are new tend to hang around the school, maybe go to the cafe/ bar just outside the gates. I'm sure we'll venture out more in the future. For the moment I'm quite content with this until I get over the culture shock.

I was pretty nervous about the food before I came here. I figured either there wouldn't be enough or I wouldn't like it - either way I would be hungry and that's a state that doesn't suit me!! But I'm happy to report I've yet to be hungry. In fact, I was hoping I might come back just a little emaciated - it would have been a bonus to the trip! But the possiblity of that happening is fairly slim unless I take up some fitness regime (although I'm hopefully that the bouncing of my bike over the rough mud-track terrain might wear away my arse!!!).

Anyhow, back to the food... we prepare breakfast ourselves (cereal or toast). Then, at around 12.15 we get fed at the school with the students, which is whatever the children are eating (often beans, sometimes ugali which is like potato but it's a maize flour). It's really nutritious and filling, if not a little insipid at times but I just load the chilli sauce onto it. But in truth, it's far better than I expected. It's so good to see these little children getting a fantastic, nourishing meal every day that they would never otherwise get at home. My favourite part of lunchtime is when all the children stand to stay grace before the meal - it's very cute! It's a Catholic school by the way, in case the the name School of ST Jude didn't give that away. A lot of the children aren't Catholic and don't have to be, but I guess (admittedly from my limited knowledge) it's just a school run with a Catholic ethos!

Aside from that, it's pretty strange living in such close quarters to so many others. I've lived on my own the last few years (apart from the last couple of months with my dear Niamh and Heidi who I miss)! Having lived alone, I'm used to my own space, my own things and just being able to get away from it all. I'm used to walking down the road to a cafe, bookshop, meeting a friend or just staying at home and watching a movie. Living with 25 others in a very small space AND working with them, well, it's bizarre. It's not a bad thing, in fact it's really quite fascinating. And it's an experience that I'll probably never repeat again so I'm taking it all in. There are people of all nationalities, ages and backgrounds coming and going on a regular basis and it's so interesting to talk to some of them. I'm sure that by the end of my time here I will have met some fantastic, fascinating people - I already have.

In the evenings, we cook together (in two groups as cooking for 25 would be a nightmare). So one person cooks each night for the 12 others and everyone sits down to eat around 7pm. It's very strange for me not be in control of what I cook and eat but I have to say, it's very nice being handed a plate of what has proven to be damn nice food so far. I'll be cooking on Saturday, so I'll probably opt for my signature dish of rissotto and just hope I don't screw it up. I don't remember when I last cooked for so many people and I'd be tempted to make a curry except I've had three this week already!

There's an outside toilet and shower between around ten of us (it sounds worse than it is -thus far I haven't had to ever wait for either of them). The shower works surprisingly well - the water pressure (mostly) is fantastic - better than an Irish shower any day of the week! But then at other times, the pressure is almost negligible so you stand under the drip and hope it hits you.
It's been really good to actually see this place because I had my own little picture of how it all would work but it was like a fairytale in my head. In reality it's the most amazing operation that is just enormous. There's almost 700 kids in the school, over 100 staff (including cleaners, cooks, teachers, admin staff, guards etc.). Gemma, who founded it, really is a human dynamite. She's incredibly hard working and very tough when she has to be. That's obviously why the school is so successful and how she has achieved so much in so little time. By next January a boarding school is due to be finished. It's going to be an enormous job but somehow I think it will happen.

This week I started working in the office. I'm also hoping to do some teaching (drama and maybe some individual tutoring). One of my first jobs was to be the uniform lady! This is the beginning of the academic year and all the new students are getting their new uniforms so I get to take them in, get them their new dresses, jumpers, socks, shoes and hats. We take before and after pictures of them - God they're the cutest things you have ever seen in your life! Most of them, if any at all, have never had new clothes in their lives, especially thbse children from orphanages. Most of them were grinning insanely throughout the whole process. After kitting out the new ones, we'll be re-uniforming half of the rest of the school (about 300). The other half get re-uniformed in June, halfway through the year, so everyone gets re-uniformed once a year! It makes a lot of sense because they grow so quickly here (especially since they get one nourishing meal a day) and they run around a lot in the yard (bless their energy) so the uniforms go through a lot of wear and tear.

More uniforming tomorrow - I've put up a picture of a group of "before" and "after" the uniform process - there really is a remarkable difference in these children after they've had a new set of clothes put on them!

Time to try to sleep in the hot Tanzanian night.... more again soon! : )