Nitakuwasiliana "I'll keep in touch."
(Bridget's trip to Tanzania)

As you hopefully know by now, I have been home for about two weeks already.  Yet, I cannot seem to stop myself from writing one last post.  No, I won’t be able to say nearly as much as I wish I could share with everyone about my experiences, but in that I have hardly said anything up until now, I feel that one more post is simply a must.  Continuing my trend of a unique format for each post and also accomplishing something that I’ve been considering doing for most of my trip, I would like to present you with an informative list.

NECESSARY SOLUTIONS & PROPER RESPONSES

When living in a different country, one is faced with the realization that many things simply don’t operate in the same way as they do at home.  Thus, I present you with this severely abridged list of helpful (or maybe not so helpful) pieces of advice regarding how you might respond to various situations while in Tanzania.  I certainly cannot stand as the authority on these solutions or claim that they apply in all cases – I can only say that in the small region of the country in which I spent my time, these are some of the fun things that I observed countless times about this entirely new culture I had entered.

IF YOU …

*Find that you need to purchase something, but that you simply have no idea where to begin looking: Stay right where you are.  There is no need to waste time or energy walking around in search of what you’re looking for.  Someone will come to you, and you don’t even have to ask.  Be it peanuts, socks, a flashlight, a women’s suit, some jewelry, sports apparel, art work, a lock for your home or business, a clock to hang upon your wall, a bag of bread, any form of magazine or newspaper, a boom box (preferably one that’s currently playing something), a watch, a belt, some nail polish, some artificial hair, or anything else on planet earth that you might desire, someone is bound to approach you selling what you’re looking for, and with no problem at all, you will be able to do your shopping from the office, at the bar, from a bus window, or anywhere else that you might be.

*Find that you’re burdened by a piece of trash: Place it upon the ground in the manner with which you are most comfortable.  Perhaps you like to drop it casually when no one is looking; maybe you like to fling it ceremoniously in a direction in which everyone will look, or maybe you’re even in a car or building and simply need to toss it out the window.  It doesn’t really matter how you get the trash to the ground, just know that for now (unless you’re in a major city where initiatives have been started to prevent litter), that is where everyone agrees that your trash belongs.

*Find a small collection of trash in an area in which you don’t want it: You may be inside or perhaps even outside, but with everyone dropping their trash on the floor or ground, you’re bound to find occasions on which there is more of it in a given area than you’re comfortable with.  At this point, it is time to sweep the trash to a new area.  You likely have a nice hand broom that you’ve made with gathered sticks or grasses to use.  Although you will need to bend down the entire time you are sweeping, your back is not at all bothered by such a practice because you are accustomed to bending over in such a way to do many tasks around the house.  Thus, claim your broom and begin your sweeping.  If you are sweeping an area inside, the solution is simple: sweep everything out the door.  If one is outside, simply sweep everything away from the area that you want to be clean.  Please note that outside during the dry season, you are going to encounter a great deal of dust while you are sweeping in that the ground is entirely composed of this dry substance.  Do not worry if you end up sweeping quite a bit of it along with the trash you are trying to remove, however, because there is plenty to go around, and sometimes you like to just sweep the dust in any given outdoor area to remove footprints or slightly alter its overall appearance.   In sweeping the trash to another area, you are indeed leaving someone else – or often even yourself – with trash that must be swept again.  No hard feelings, though – that’s just how it works.

*Find that you have a considerably large heap of trash, and sweeping it somewhere else really isn’t going to cut it anymore: Burn it.  What are the guidelines when it comes to burning trash?  Quite simply, there aren’t any.  As long as you have a pile of trash and a way to light it on fire, you are set.  Regarding the location at which you burn your trash, you may wish to burn it right outside your door, in an empty plot of land nearby, or perhaps in a hole that you’ve dug specifically for the purpose of holding your trash as it burns.  It doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re satisfied with the manner you’ve selected.  I must also point out that you should be absolutely positive there is nothing you – or someone else – can do with articles from your seemingly worthless pile of trash before you eliminate everything entirely.  You would be shocked to discover how much of your trash you can reutilize if you only take the time to consider the possibilities.  The list of examples is endless, but just to give you an idea of how innovative Tanzanians can be when it comes to reusing garbage: glass soda bottles (if not just returned to the company to be refilled) are used as candle holders or broken and placed along walls to keep intruders out and perching birds off; soda and beer caps are used by the children as counting aids in school, made into necklaces, used as checkers pieces, or utilized as metal washers for numerous projects; tires are made into traditional Maasai sandals; broken straps from flip flops are used by Maasai women as the base of traditional beaded bracelets; empty plastic water bottles are used to hold cooking essentials including milk and oil; plastic bags are woven into small soccer balls; the film inside cassette tapes becomes an ultimate form of entertainment for children, who may tie it to homemade boats and use it to reel them back in, wrap it around stationary objects to serve as boundary lines in games, or tie it to a banana peel and hurl it through the air to serve as decoration on trees in the area.  Needless to say, in Tanzania, few things are considered trash until they have at least been reused several times.

*Find that you need to call someone, but that you don’t have enough credit on your cell phone to do so:  Beep him or her incessantly by calling and then hanging up after the first ring until he or she becomes so irritated that you get a call back.  In touching on the topic of cell phones, I find it absolutely necessary that I elaborate.  In Tanzania, the concept of landlines or home phones doesn’t really exist.  Rather, they skipped this stage in the process of developing and jumped straight to mobile phones.  In my time there, I found that close to everyone has a cell phone past the age of about sixteen, and if he or she doesn’t have one (which honestly appears to be less likely than such a reality is in the U.S.), he or she at least has a SIM card that can be inserted regularly into someone else’s phone to make and receive calls.  As mailing addresses other than P.O. Boxes do not really exist in the country and a steady income is never a guarantee for anyone, cumbersome two-year contracts like those we have in the U.S. are entirely illogical.  Rather, individuals purchase a SIM card through one of about four different companies and can then reload it with credit whenever necessary.  As the use of cell phones is so widespread, vouchers to reload your phone with credit are sold at essentially every shop you encounter, whether the main purpose of the store is to sell cooking supplies or plant fertilizer.  No cell phone is locked to a specific company, so you can insert your card into any phone and have it work.  As for the concept of beeping someone if you have run out of credit, incoming calls in Tanzania are always entirely free – one only has to pay if he or she is making the call.

*Find that your pants have become especially dirty: Use the nearest available piece of fabric to beat the dust off.  It’s rather likely that you have a special piece of fabric set aside specifically for this occasion, but if not, it will still be effortless to find something appropriate, trust me.  As it is the dry season, the roads are turned entirely to a dry, powdery dust that swirls up when you take steps and blows all about in the wind (they call this dust “vumbi,” which is important to know because they talk about it all the time).  Due to the reality of all of the dust, your pants become quite dusty terribly quickly … especially if you’re short and all of your pants are a bit longer than they should be.  Initially, you might feel a bit distressed at the thought of your clothing becoming so dirty so quickly; you will soon find, however, that with minimal effort, the dust will come right off as you beat it with another piece of fabric, leaving your pants looking good as new.  In the instance that you are around young children for a good portion of the day, it is especially necessary that you remain vigilant about keeping your pants free of dust.  They know very well that you have no excuse to be walking around covered in dirt, and if you don’t take care of removing it quickly enough, they will insist upon helping you.  This holds most true in the instance in which they are responsible in some manner for getting you dusty, whether it be by accidentally kicking you as you swing them around or play other games with them or by colliding with you as they race to get to a soccer ball.  If they are unable to get some of the dirt off by simply hitting it with a cloth, they will quickly proceed to more drastic measures, including rubbing your clothing together at the site of the incident (an excellent method for getting out stubborn stains in the case that you have water and soap to assist you) or even applying their own spit to the dirt in an attempt to wash it out.

*Find that you have no “clean” clothes and that you have neither the time nor the desire to spend the day hand washing your clothing: This is an especially difficult solution to explain properly in that it is radically different from our own cultural norms, but try to hear me out.  First, be sure that the dirt cannot just be shaken or beaten off of the clothing, as described in the solution above.  Next, take some time to challenge your former definition of clean – in order for something to be considered dirty, there better be a significant amount of dirt visible.  Most importantly, understand that just because you have already worn something once does not under any condition automatically make it dirty.  When you don’t have a great deal of clothing to work with or a washing machine to do the hard work of washing what you do have for you, you set different standards for defining “clean” and “dirty.”  Clothing is not a part of life in which individuals place much value, and quite simply, no one really cares what you wear.  If you’d like to wear the same thing for an entire week, go for it – no one’s going to comment or perhaps even notice.  And I am being entirely honest when I tell you that a good portion of my students wore the same outfit (plus or minus a sweater) for the entire six weeks that I taught.  While most people don’t necessarily take it to this extreme, rotating among a very small collection of several different options – each of which you wear for perhaps three to five days at a time before switching – is quite standard.  The only times at which you really worry about what you’re wearing is when you have a school uniform and need to make sure that you stay presentable and within dress code, when you’re going to church, or when you are going into town (Arusha), an event for which people really make the point of dressing up and looking their best.  Maybe you’re repulsed by this reality or perhaps you wish you could get away with such an approach here, but no matter what your stance may be, it’s definitely a different way of looking at things than a lot of us are likely accustomed to.  To live within a culture where material possessions like clothing mean next to nothing to people is pretty awesome in my book. 

*Find that the time someone has just told you seems entirely inappropriate: If the time named falls between the hours 1 and 6, add six hours; if it falls between the hours of 7 and 12, subtract 6.  This threw me off quite a bit when I first arrived, but it has a pretty good explanation and you adjust quickly.  Essentially, Swahili time goes not by universal standards but rather by the hours of the sun.  The sun begins to rise at just about 6:00 in the morning our time, so to Tanzanians, this is the first hour of the new day – thus, they call it the hour of 12:00 to 1:00.  From that point forward, time progresses hour-by-hour just as it would for us.  Converting is thus very simple in that all you really have to do is add or subtract 6 hours from the given value depending on the interval at hand.  The only other thing you have to be aware of is that because they do not have AM or PM as we do, they will simply specify the period of day after the time, such as asubuhi (morning), mchana (afternoon), or jioni (evening), when making appointments or future plans.

*Find that you want to purchase something, but that the price someone has just named seems entirely too high: It is – bargain.  Quite simply, if you’re a mzungu (European/white person) and are interested in purchasing just about anything, the individual selling you the item will automatically name a much higher price than that for which he or she typically sells the item.  In Tanzania, this is not at all considered a dishonest or unfair approach in that no price is ever guaranteed, and they believe that logically, if you make more, you should have to pay more.  This is especially true due to the reality that the cost of living in Tanzania is significantly lower than that of developed countries from which tourists typically visit, and to them, if you’re used to paying a certain price at home, you should be perfectly capable of paying it in their country as well.  Quite often, tourists do not even notice that the prices are too high because they simply expect prices to be equivalent to those in their home countries, but if you’re there for even a little while, you’ll quickly begin to pick up on it.  If you’d like to be able to purchase things for more reasonable prices, you’ll have to be willing to bargain.  Bargaining is a fact of life in Tanzania – when you shop, just be prepared to negotiate the price every time and be sure to stay firm when you challenge a price.  Using Kiswahili certainly doesn’t hurt as they tend to take you more seriously at that point.  Finally, if you’ve reached a stalemate and you feel as though no matter how much you bargain, the shopkeeper won’t let the price get near where you want it, begin to walk away – it’s hard to believe, but if you’ve been bargaining for a while and you at last reach this point, the individual trying to make the sale will almost certainly make a much better offer.  Bargaining can become tiring at times, but if you’re patient and remain reasonable in your offers, the shopkeeper will appreciate your efforts and in the end, you’ll make a much happier purchase.

*Find that the day ends before you have accomplished what you set out to do: Just say you’ll do it tomorrow.  One of the very first words I learned in Kiswahili was “kesho,” meaning “tomorrow,” and rightly so.  This word comes up in conversation so often it’s a bit startling at first … until you find yourself using it all the time as well.  Essentially, there’s not much of a sense of urgency regarding any task in Tanzania, so whatever didn’t get done today can easily be postponed to the next day.  If you like to take a fairly laidback approach to life, you will have an awesome time because this is just about the perfect way for things to be; if you like to have everything prescheduled and right on time, however, you’ll hopefully learn to adjust and appreciate the way things are just as much.  While we’re on the topic of schedules, this brings up another important condition to note.  Times and dates are often only broad suggestions of when things should take place, so don’t take them for any more.  There’s no need to worry about being a couple minutes – or even a couple hours – late for most things, and no need to get upset if someone else is “late.”  If you have something that you’re supposed to get to later on, just remember that it’s just as likely to have a late start as your current activity.  Really, the best approach is simply to take events and opportunities as they come, and not worry about the things that could be happening in the future – I assure you everything will be a lot smoother this way.

*Find that people are especially distracted or confused by something unfamiliar that you regularly wear: Tell them, “Ni urembo tu.”  Alright, so perhaps this isn’t the most useful or widely applicable piece of advice, but it’s worth sharing regardless.  No matter how vaguely I present the problem, there are still very few circumstances to which it can be applied.  In my case, the situation at hand is the retainer I had to wear all summer to preserve the malicious handiwork of braces.  It’s a pretty cool dental appliance, right?  No, wrong … the answer will always be that retainers – especially for someone of my age – are not cool.  Let me tell you, things get even more enjoyable when you wear one in Tanzania, though.  I am fairly certain that nearly every single individual who saw me smile … which is, by default, every individual who saw me … inquired about my retainer.  Adults would approach me with a very concerned countenance and ask what it was and if it hurt, while children would point, laugh, and whisper amongst one another.  The funniest was when I would walk through the village and cross paths with a few children: as I greeted them, their faces would take on the appearance of pure astonishment, and they would begin pointing at their own teeth and asking in rushed Kiswahili what it was.  They would then call to all of their other friends, who would come running to my sides in mobs and trying to get a look at it themselves, making hilarious faces to try to get me to open my mouth.  This is when the solution comes in: “Ni urembo tu” literally translates to “It’s only decoration.”  While I’m all for telling the truth at all times, this is one of the extremely rare instances in which I will consent to doing otherwise.  If you know how to explain a foreign object such as a retainer to someone in Kiswahili, by all means, go for it.  I must warn you, however, that even individuals who were terribly well rounded and entirely fluent in English who asked for an explanation were not able to understand the purpose for such a strange contraption, and it was at several of these individuals’ suggestion that I began deeming my retainer decoration.  While the children found this response more humorous than anything else (perhaps due to my using Kiswahili when they weren’t expecting it), they accepted the answer quite willingly and eventually went on their way.  Everyone loves decoration in Tanzania, and because so many individuals have fairly extreme forms of decoration, they aren’t typically going to challenge such a response.  To say that you wore “braces” in order to straighten the alignment of your teeth and that now you wear this device to keep them in place, however, is a far cry from anything they will likely be able to relate to or accept.

*Find that in your efforts to get from one place to another, you are stuck behind individuals walking at an especially leisurely pace: Where do you honestly have to be in such a hurry?  The people of Tanzania don’t like to rush, and they certainly don’t want to see you rushing about either.  Rather than trying to get around people, adopt their pace and take some time to look about. There are plenty of new and exciting things for you to witness all around, but if you’re only worried about getting to your final destination, you won’t notice most of them.  You might also want to take this opportunity to greet people as you pass and ask how they are doing.  You’ll be amazed by how genuinely happy people will be to see you making the effort to say hello, and you’ll feel remarkably happy yourself.

*Find that someone has encountered even the slightest disappointment or inconvenience: Say “pole” to him or her.  Conversely, if someone says “pole” to you, respond with “asante.”  Pronounced “poh-lay,” this very simple word means nothing other than “sorry,” and merits a kind “thank you” (a-sahn-tay) in reply.  Tanzanians are very concerned about the well being of one another, and if they witness even the faintest unpleasant circumstance brought upon another, they will without exception say “pole.”  Perhaps you’ve tripped, or maybe you look a bit tired; it may be that you’re working or even exerting yourself ever so slightly; you could appear sad or upset about something or seem a bit ill – honestly, some people even greet you with “pole” no matter how you’re doing.  No matter what the case may be, it’s nice just say “asante” back to acknowledge your appreciation for someone else being concerned about you.  At the same time, it’s considerate to say “pole” whenever you see someone else struggling with something or experiencing any minor condition you yourself would not likely want to go through.  All in all, it’s just a very nice form of communication to maintain the idea of care and concern for one another to which Tanzanians are so committed. 

*Find that it’s mealtime and that, while there is more than enough food to eat, for one reason or another, you’re really not very hungry: If only I had a foolproof solution to this concern!  While the idea of snacking and spoiling your meal is never a problem in Tanzania in that you don’t really snack, there are a few other reasons why you may not be hungry come mealtime.  Meals are designed to be very filling and are composed primarily of generous servings of starches, namely bread, rice, or ugali.  Thus, if you’ve had a pretty large lunch, there is the very good possibility that even seven hours later, you still won’t be that hungry at dinnertime.  Beyond this, if you’ve gone to visit someone between meals, you’ve most certainly had no less than a couple cups of chai, quite likely had some small offering of food like bread, chapati, or fruit, and quite possibly had a whole meal entirely.  When this is the case, you are definitely in a bit of a predicament.  Meals are almost always self-service, so in the event that you’re not feeling too hungry, it would be nice to believe that you could just serve yourself a smaller portion and all would be well.  Please, I beg of you, if you do not want to finish a meal feeling as though you’ll never be able to eat again, never, ever try this.  Allow me to explain why.  First of all, Tanzanians take a lot of pride in the food that they cook (as they should), and if you don’t serve yourself much, they may feel as though you do not like it.  Second of all, a host cannot live with the idea of seeing his or her guest with an empty plate while he or she is still eating.  As the guest, you are certain to have to serve yourself and begin eating first, and if you don’t take much, there is no way you will be able to keep from finishing before your host.  You might think that you could just eat slowly to accomplish this feat, but he or she will be watching, and if you eat too slowly, you will once again make him or her believe that you do not enjoy the food.  In the end, you will be forced to serve yourself more – or more commonly your host will snatch your plate from you and serve you a portion that he or she feels is most fitting.  He or she will say that you should just have a little bit more (“kidogo! kidogo!” they’ll say) but whether you’re serving yourself and your host is supervising or he or she has simply chosen to take control of the situation and serve you his or herself, you’re going to end up with just as much or more food on your plate than you would have taken on a day when you were feeling hungry – and this is after you’ve already had some to eat.  In the end, you’ll end up with everyone watching you finish and laughing as you struggle to clear your plate, and it’s not a very fun situation.  As taking a smaller portion should hopefully be eliminated as a possibility in your mind by now, a more reasonable approach is to simply take an average portion of food and eat at an ordinary pace, even if you know it’s more than you’d really like.  You’ll probably finish at about the same time as your host, and although he or she will encourage you to take more – especially if he or she plans to do the same – you’re much more likely to have success when you claim that you are satisfied (“nimeshiba”).  Just be sure to make your claim of feeling satisfied with conviction, perhaps by adding a “sana” or “kabisa” on the end to really stress your point.  The fact that struggling with having too much to eat in Tanzania is an issue may be surprising to you, but I assure you that it came up quite regularly, and I wasn’t the only volunteer to experience it.  Tanzania may have its struggles, but it has enough food to feed itself, and the people want that to be well understood and appreciated – if you’re a visitor, they will ensure that you receive more than enough to make this point especially clear.

If you have honestly made it to the end of this post, I congratulate you for your commitment and perseverance.  It means a lot more to me than I can really express in words that you’ve taken the time to read this likely far less than compelling volume, and it’s clear that you really want to make an effort to understand a bit about my trip.  While I’ll never really know what sort of impact – if any – this blog has had on you, I can only hope that you were able to enjoy some of the posts even a little, and if nothing else, that you now have a minutely better understanding of what life is like in the tiny little village that is Ngaramtoni, Tanzania.  Even now, it’s nothing short of impossible for me to believe how or understand why I was given the absolutely incredible opportunity of experiencing this culture firsthand; in some way or another, though, just by being a part of my life, all of you have had a part in making that possible.  So, thank you, thank you, thank you – a million times over. 

If I could, I would go on writing for weeks on end about my experiences, but there comes a time when a person must resign his or herself to the idea that life carries on whether or not you’re ready for it, and if you want to make the most of it, you have to embrace the very moment you’re given for all it’s worth.  Tanzania will be on the top of my mind and in all of my dreams for who knows how long into the future, but my second year of studying industrial design is here now, and it’s time to make it everything I can.  Thankfully, the dream still stands that some day, I’ll find a way to make the two of these passions coexist, not necessarily by solely designing for the people of Tanzania, but somehow by finding a way to use industrial design to help some of the many underserved people who need and deserve it most.  For now, though, I still have a lot more to learn as a student and even more to grow as a person.

If there’s anything more you’d like to hear about my experiences, please don’t hesitate to ask – I would be more than glad to share.  My one piece of advice, however, is that if you really want to know about another culture – no matter where it may be – experience it for yourself.  Trust me, you can find a way to make it happen, and it will be more worth it than you could ever imagine.

23 September 2008

It seems that I do not write home nearly often enough to know where to begin when I finally get the opportunity … thus, I kindly ask that you accept my apologies both for my rather rare contact and for the pronounced level of disjointedness apparent in my posts.  That being said, I suppose I will just begin by describing what has occupied the majority of my time recently, and we’ll see where it goes from there.

As you may be able to guess, volunteering at the school has been my main priority since I have been in Ngaramtoni.  At first, I found it very difficult to just come in as a complete outsider to attempt to teach so many young children, but as time has passed, I have really begun to familiarize myself with my surroundings and establish a little order in what I do each day.  In addition, my knowledge of Kiswahili has thankfully reached the point where – with a little effort – I can understand what it is that the children are trying to tell me and also know what to tell them when I am teaching simple things or giving basic directions.  While I was originally told that I would be teaching English at the school, two main conditions have eliminated that possibility: A) one needs to have a strong understanding of both the language he or she is teaching and the language his or her students regularly use to teach anything worthwhile, and B) the students who are learning must have a fairly decent understanding of language in general … as you may imagine, many two- to five-year-olds are still working on their own language.  The fact that teaching English has not really played out, however, is of absolutely no disappointment to me, as I came wanting to learn as much as I could about a different part of the world from the people who live there, not intending to impose my own ways of living (or communicating, in this case) on them. 

When it comes to what I have been teaching, I must admit that making a determination concerning proper lessons for my students has been nearly impossible due to the fact that rather unfortunately, the school is almost entirely void of an established curriculum or even a small bit of organization.  As you can imagine, this becomes a major problem when you have so many different people consistently filtering in and out for rather short periods of time.  As the time I have had has not allowed me to really change this reality in any sustainable manner, however, I have simply taken the lead of Priscus, who lives in the area and was teaching the class upon my arrival.  The irony of the situation exists in that while he seemed to know precisely what was going on when I arrived, I later found out that he had only been at the school for 3 weeks prior to my joining him, and as he has been given no true guidelines concerning his work, he is simply improvising the lessons as the days come. 

While we typically spend the week teaching counting, writing numbers and letters, simple addition, and other basic lessons, this week has been different in that Jane (who owns the school) instructed the teachers of the school’s 3 classes to distribute examinations aimed at determining the students’ readiness for the next level of instruction.  Where do these examinations come from?  Why, I write them, of course!  As a nineteen-year-old foreign volunteer with no background in teaching and no real knowledge of Tanzania’s system of education, I’m completely qualified to be determining if students are ready to pass to the next level of instruction, right?  Perhaps not.  Whether or not I am qualified, however, has really been of no consequence so far.  Thus, based on what I have seen children working on in the neighboring class (which, luckily, is the level just up from the one I am teaching and sits directly next to my class with no form of separation) and on advice from Priscus about what he thinks the tests should consist of, I have spent the past week writing tests and distributing one each day to the children.  With 35 students and 5 subjects in which they must be tested, I have had quite a busy week handwriting over 175 tests (it’s always good to have a few extras of each, you know), and then grading and recording the results.  While there had been no form of attendance taken each day up until this point, I was at last able to change that for my class last week.  Having finally learned all of the children’s names, I found a notebook in which I am able to record both attendance and grades.  Although it is hardly a contribution when it comes to organization at the school, and while I cannot expect it to continue once I leave, it has at least been a help in ensuring that all of the children complete the proper tests and that their scores are not lost.  Grading has been rather entertaining (although a bit concerning) in that about 90% of my students are far too young to understand what is going on and thus prefer instead to write letters when they should be writing numbers (and vice versa), to invent entirely new characters within the alphabet and numbers,  to create insane names for themselves (I actually had to write the tests with their names already included for them after the second day in order to prevent mass chaos and confusion … often times,  they get frustrated part way through and just abandon their papers somewhere on the floor or even outside … don’t ask), and to just decorate their papers with a variety of doodles and a good amount of dirt and tears (as in rips or holes, though some of the kind that come from one’s eyes have also likely found their ways to some of their papers, not because of their frustration with the difficulty of the tests, but more because of quarrels with neighboring students over things such as pencils and erasers). 

Having mentioned the subject of pencils and erasers, I am simply unable to restrain myself from elaborating on this matter.  I have 35 students, so naturally one would hope that there are at least 35 pencils available each day.  As you may recall from your early years in school, you and each of your classmates typically had your own pencil to use each day, though in the case that two or three of you did not, the teacher or one of your neighbors would be willing to lend an extra to you.  Let me begin by saying that in my classroom, the word “extra” does not – under any circumstance – apply to pencils.  Perhaps two or three of the students come with their own pencils each day, and the rest hope that I am able to supply them when necessary.  The only problem is that I can usually find no more than 10 pencils at any given time in the classroom, so the students are forced to share.  When it comes to sharpening the pencils, there are a couple of small, plastic handheld sharpeners that circulate among the three classes, and when I find myself holding one of them, it is almost guaranteed that I will be sharpening broken, stubby pencils for nearly three hours straight.  In terms of erasers, about 1 out of 10 pencils are equipped with one at the top, and the students who are lucky enough to have one of these pencils will without hesitation erase the papers of their fellow classmates upon request.  For those students who are not willing to wait to borrow an eraser, however, several options exist: A) rub the mistake with your finger until the paper begins to wear away and you are left with a fuzzy, indiscernible smudge, B) add spit to the equation mentioned in “A” just to jazz things up a bit, but end with essentially the same result, C) use one of the many bottle caps that you have collected on your way to school to rub the paper until you have torn a hole in the area that you find to be false, thus eliminating any trace of your original response, or D) rub your paper in the area of concern with a chunk of Styrofoam … other than create a good amount of noise, I’m not really sure if this does anything.

All of this being said, I want to make something very clear: although conditions are a bit rough at times and many of the students have trouble concentrating and learning a great deal because of it, the children I teach are amazing individuals, and I see a great deal of potential in them.  All of them are very eager to learn, and when I have the rare opportunity to sit down with any one of them at a time to teach him or her individually, I can see that with a little attention, each of them has the ability to learn and grow a great deal.  As individuals, they are all terribly kind-hearted and never hesitate to comfort a neighbor who is crying, teach a student who does not understand the subject (to the point of perhaps even taking their tests for them), share some small bit of food (which they occasionally bring in their pockets) with surrounding students, or give me a hug, a high five, or any other greeting.  Regarding the poor test results that I have been seeing, it is my opinion that many of them are simply too young to have an understanding of the subject matter … due to a shortage of teachers and supplies, however, they must sit through the same classes and take the same tests as some of their older peers until they too are old enough to understand.  What is most important is that they are coming each day to an environment where they know people will care about them, where they will have something to eat for lunch (God-willing the school could afford ingredients for the day … although it was not working out in my first few weeks, there has thankfully been food each day for the students in the past two weeks), and where they can just interact with their peers.  While many of them may not pay the greatest deal of attention in class, they find ways to entertain themselves, and that is what makes me smile the most.  To give you just a couple of examples, they enjoy shredding the tags in their clothing and blowing the fuzz around the room, tearing their coloring pages into strips that they proceed to roll up and pretend to smoke (maybe not such a good one), bite glitter off their shirts and sweatshirts (often times Christmas-themed this time of year due to the cool weather and the need to wear warm clothes) and decorate each others hands and faces with it, and bring dry chunks of watercolor paints to school so that they may then lick them and paint each others faces, lips, and fingernails (a volunteer who came several weeks back thought it would be nice to give each of the students a watercolor set before she left, but as many of the children in my class do not know how to paint, they prefer to bring a new color to class each day for the aforementioned purposes).  

Well, I don’t really know how much any of the information I just provided will add to your understanding of my experience, but it seems that I have once again run out of time to write.  I can’t believe how soon I will be home, but I’ll do my best to send home at least one more post before I arrive to round out your understanding a little better.  Know that when I finally make it there, however, I will be more than willing to tell you anything you want to hear to perhaps give you a better understanding of what I’ve been doing all this time so far away from home.  I hope you are all doing well, and I’ll see many of you relatively soon. 

29 August 2008

So, this is when having unusual sleeping habits is especially useful.  It’s 3:30 in the morning here, and I’m siting on the roof of the Arusha Backpackers Hotel typing this post.  For only 7 USD or 8400 Tanzanian shillings a night, you can share a room with three other random people (thankfully, I know one of them tonight), take a shower that involves standing under a showerhead (the first time I’ve gotten to do that this trip), have breakfast in the morning, and even use the internet for free.  The only catch with using the internet is that for the entire establishment, there’s only one available computer.  So, I figured I might as well sleep some earlier in the night, then put my fantastic insomniac skills to use when I’ll have no other competition.  Sounds like a pretty good plan, right?  Anyhow, I believe I promised in my last main post - which is sadly also the only legitimate post from the entire trip - to send you some slightly more compelling information.  So, hopefully I can do that for you a little now.

LANGUAGE
While my first week involved a combination of English, Danish, German, and Kiswahili, it’s thankfully been pared down to only three languages since then.  The first - and most predominant - language is English, as the family with whom I live, Anne (the volunteer with whom I’m staying), and Jane (the owner of the school at which I volunteer) are quite proficient and use it in communication with me.  In addition, most shopkeepers and many others with whom I might need to speak know enough for me to get by without really needing Kiswahili.  The major exception, however, is the students in my class.  In addition, while I might be able to get by with only English, I feel that the cultural experience is much richer (and makes a little more sense) if one makes the effort to speak the language of the natives.  While the “classes” I took weren’t quite enough to help me out, I have several resources on which to depend and have chosen to make learning at least some Kiswahili beyond greetings a major goal of mine while I’m here.  My vocabulary is worse than that of a very small child at this point, but it’s growing every day, and I’m getting better at proper verb usage.  Although I don’t get the opportunity to practice as much as I would like due to the fact that people automatically pull out whatever small amount of English they may know as soon as they see me, I find my ways to keep learning.  One of my favorite things to do pay close attention to the many conversations in Kiswahili that people have in my presence assuming that I’ll be oblivious to what they’re saying.  Even more fun, however, is trying it out a bit in the classroom, as the kids find it absolutely hilarious and often try to mess with me by switching up words, but certainly respond more accordingly to my directions than they might should I use English.  The final language is the that of the Maasai people, which was thrown into the mix quite unexpectedly just as I began to get a hold on Kiswahili.  Encounters in this language are some of the funniest, as many of the Maasai are quite forceful in their speech and will just walk up to you and start rambling.  When they see that you don’t understand, they often attempt repeating what they have already said but at a considerably greater volume.  I have enough on my hands with Kiswahili, so I have resigned to just learning the greetings in Maasai.  This makes the time I spend beading with the Maasai widows especially entertaining and a little complicated, but we find our ways to communicate in one way or another (and enjoy making each other try out words of our respective languages without the other really knowing what is being said).

DALLA-DALLAS
Ah, dalla-dallas.  What would my trip be without them?  Dalla-dallas are essentially privately-owned minibuses that can be taken wherever you might need to go within reasonable proximity.  They are by far the most common form of transportation here other than walking, and their demand is far greater than their availability.  As a result, they are crammed full of perhaps twice as many people than they are originally intended for, and personal space is far from available.  Those suffering claustrophobia are quite simply out of luck … unless they’re one of the priviliged ones who gets to ride hanging out of the area in which the door should be closed.  Market days in Ngaramtoni (Thursdays and Sundays) are especially fun, as dalla-dallas are packed full not only of people, but also produce, grains, animal hides, and even a good number of chickens shoved under the seats.  The drivers like to make good use of their time, approaching the roads (if you can call them that) at considerably high speeds; however, they also like to make sure that they get as many passengers as possible, so should their partners in charge of loading the vehicle and collecting money bang on the roof to signal the need to stop for new passengers (as happens extremely frequently), they do so immediately.  As none of the roads - dirt or paved - are in anywhere near acceptable shape, the ride is quite the experience.  While some are put off by them, I actually find them quite fun and also a great value (less than 50 cents to get a ride  into the center of Arusha from Ngaramtoni).  Perhaps I am a bit biased, however, as my “compact” build gives me quite the advantage. 
One last note on the matter: as they are privately owned, drivers have the opportunity to name and paint them in any way they desire.  Many of them are religious in nature, some of my personal favorites including: “GOD INSIDE” and “Only God can judge me,” while others have musical influences, including Bob Marley and even Led Zeppelin.   I have even seen an Obama-themed dalla-dalla, which I enjoyed quite a bit.

MUSIC and TELEVISION
Yes, Tanzania has - and loves - both.  The number of people who own a television is a little surprising, especially when you take into account the many things that they don’t have, but all things considered, a television is pretty easy to own provided that you have electricity (also pretty common, especially due to a nationwide initiative several years ago) and an antenna.  Music and television go hand in hand quite nicely, as one of the three channels we get is largely devoted to music videos (and perhaps someday reality shows?) and is certainly a popular choice for entertainment.  The videos are predominately those of American hiphop/r&b artists, which can be quite interesting in that the family with whom I am staying is under the impression that I should automatically be entirely familiar with all of them.  There are also some regional artists featured on the channel, and let me tell you, their music videos are something else.  Beyond hiphop, I hear a good deal of gospel music, especially due to the fact that my host mother is a pastor, and was even subjected to the same worship song played for over two hours straight one day when I was in her office.  Finally, the neighbor and relative of my host family is an enormous fan of country music, deeming himself a pioneer for his country.
In regards to other television, I get to see trace amounts of news as well as two soap-opera like programs that my family likes to follow.  One was originally made in the Philippines, while the other I believe originating in a Latin American country.  The drama that unfolds in each of these series is hilarious, as are the English voice-overs.  What is perhaps most entertaining, however, is when they forget to play the voice track, resulting in extremely pronounced sound effects and a lot of intense body language and facial expressions. 

FOOD/DRINK
Okay, so not the most important topic, but everyone likes to know, right?  Let me begin by saying chai … chai in the morning, chai again in the morning, chai in the early afternoon, chai in the later afternoon, chai in the evening, chai at night.  Simply Kiswhali for “tea,” chai is prepared with tea leaves (usually just from your regular old tea bags) and either water or water and milk and is served any time, all the time.  If you are going to be visiting anyone, you should be prepared to have at least two cups, which can be quite fun when you visit several different people in a row.  The second-oldest son of my host family even works at a warehouse/shop in Arusha selling chai, so it’s beyond readily available at home.  I’ve never been much of a tea person before now, but believe me, I’m very quickly becoming one whether intentionally or otherwise.  In terms of other beverages, there’s bottled water (taken almost exclusively from the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro), soda bottled in rather exciting 350mL glass bottles, and apparently a lot of options in terms of alcohol. 
In terms of food, ugali is the main staple.  Ugali: looks like mashed potatoes, tastes like essentially nothing … eat it or starve.  Made with corn flour and water, ugali is nothing short of the national food.  Although it’s not too tasty, it is always served with some sort of green leafy vegetable that has been steamed and salted or perhaps even a sauce made with various vegetables and even some small fragments of meat on very special occasions (perhaps a bit tough and chewy … and often including regions of the animal you might not want identified for you … but protein is protein).  To eat ugali, you take a small piece in your hands, squeeze it a few times to make a ball, and then pick up some of the accompanying sauce or vegetables with it and enjoy … honestly, as long as you have the vegetables, it’s not bad.  To save their volunteers from eating ugali every night (although they woud gladly do so themselves, provided that it was made at home), the family alternates ugali with rice.  Other than that, we’ve had spaghetti noodles (which they hate) twice in their attempt to be western, and ndizi (Kiswahili for “banana,” a dish made with sliced green bananas and potatoes in a sauce) a couple of times   To put it simply, meals almost invariably involve a base starch in mass quantities with a bit of sauce/vegetables as an accompaniment.  Often, bananas, avocadoes, or oranges are served as a side, which is especially nice in that they are always fresh from one of the countless fields in town.  This menu typically goes for both lunch and dinner; as for breakfast, add a piece or two of plain white bread to eat with your chai, and you’re good to go.  All in all, food here is pretty repetitive, but I’m fed well and certainly can’t complain about taste.

Well, morning is fast approaching, so although I could continue, that will have to be it for now.  Hopefully I’ll be able to send more your way soon, but if you have any news of your own or special requests regarding news from me, I’d love to hear from you.

14 August 2008

Alright, so I mentioned “Maasai” people a few times in my last post, and it later occurred to me that such a title might not mean much to you.  Thus, I’ve determined that before I go any further, I better try to explain my referrence a bit.  As you do probably know, before colonial powers came along looking to carve up Africa and call it their own, the continent was not really divided into specific countries with nice, clean borders.  Rather, groups of people lived in unified, cooperative bodies based largely on family relation and geographic location.  One such group was the Maasai people, a semi-nomadic people who lived in what is now northern Tanzania and southern Kenya.  Centering their culture around their cattle, which provided the answer to most of their needs and determined their wealth, they migrated based on grazing patterns and lived in huts constructed largely of sticks, mud, and cow dung.  Wealth was also determined by the number of children one had, so the more wives, the better.  Today, the Maasai is one of the strongest and most visible African peoples still in existence, and while things have changed a bit with time, they are making a definite effort to hold firm to their traditions. 
In the area in which I live, it is safe to say that Maasai people make up the majority of the population, some of whom are still living traditionally, and others who are Maasai by ancestry, but with education, have chosen to leave traditional ways behind in favor of a more modern way of life.  The family with whom I am staying is one such example of those who no longer practice Maasai traditions despite their history, having become Christian some time ago and thus being forced to abandon many of the major facets of Maasai way of life.  While this is common throughout society, due in part to strong encouragement from the government, there are still many individuals who remain true Maasai.  Their bomas (small groups of round huts in which families, along with their livestock, live in close proximity to one another) are visible wherever you walk throughout the village in which I stay, and the people are also quite visible, often walking down roads with herds of cows, goats, donkeys, and sheep before them.  Those still following tradition typically wear red and blue plaid draping fabrics and a variety of traditional jewelry around their necks, wrists, and ankles, have markings on their cheeks, and tend to have exceptionally large holes in their earlobes (think extreme gauging), from which they often hang a good amount of ornamentation.  As polygamy is still practiced, many women often end up marrying men who are much older than them, which leaves them widowed early in life.  Remarriage is rare, but as I’ve come to see in working with some of these women several times a week, the women have more than enough confidence to fend for themselves.

Habari, friends! (Literally, “news,” but essentially, “Hey!  How are you?”).  In regards to my failure to write home until now, all I can say is, “Pole sana!” (I am very sorry).  By now, you have probably begun to believe that either I never made it to Tanzania or that I developed some sort of grand scheme to move here permanently and never talk to anyone again.  I am happy to say, however, that after several failed attempts at sending news home, I have finally reached you and can say that neither of these possibilities is true.  I made it here with no complications in my flight, and while I am definitely settling into life here, I would miss all of you much too much to ever fail to return home.  Now that we’ve cleared that up, it would probably be a good idea to actually give you some information about my time here thus far.  At this point, chronologically detailing my experiences since I’ve been here would be entirely unreasonable – both in terms of me having the time to write and you ever having the time or desire to read.  Thus, I’ll try topically arranging some news for you, and hopefully it will be a little easier for all of us.

DAR ES SALAAM

Once the capital city of Tanzania, Dar has only recently lost this title to Dodoma.  Even now, it is still considered the industrial capital of the country, packed with factories and an unbelievable number of people.  The streets are a sight to see, suffering excessive damage in the event that you encounter a paved surface and otherwise simply entirely uneven dirt passages running every which way.  They are packed with innumerable cars, trucks, buses, cyclists, street vendors, beggars, and pedestrians – far from enough room for any of these groups – and lined with heaps of trash and countless factories and small shops.  Situated right on the coast of the country, it experiences a rather hot and humid climate year-round.  Although this is the coolest time of the year in Tanzania, the temperature during my time in Dar likely never dropped below the mid-80s.  Despite these somewhat overwhelming conditions, I quite appreciated the time I had in this region.  I spent my first five days in the country just outside of the heart of Dar in an area known as Mikocheni B.  Here, I lived in my program’s hostel with six other volunteers who arrived at the same time as me.  They ranged in age from 21 to 38; two were from Germany, three from Denmark, and one from the U.S.  We spent our days with a young man named Yoctan, who was thankfully nearly fluent in English and responsible for teaching us about the language and culture of the region.  We had Kiswahili lessons in the morning followed by some form of excursion in the afternoon to see different regions of Dar.  Our evenings were quite relaxed, mostly spent on a concrete porch in back of the hostel listening to music and getting to know each other.  The workers at the small kiosk at the end of street also got to know us quite well, as none of us were quite confident enough with the language or the region to go out past dark (note: daylight hours exist from a little before 7:00 in the morning to a little after 7:00 in the evening … and once it starts to get dark, it is dark).  As we had little else to do quite early in the evening, let it suffice to say that while I was only witness to this, every local variety of beer the country has to offer was tried … more than once.  I know, I know … I’m halfway across the world and can do essentially anything I want, but it’s all about personal preference, and I am still the same Bridget … would you have expected anything different?

MY PLACEMENT

As you may recall, I was originally expecting to be living and working at Good Hope Orphanage in Arusha.  I honestly can’t effectively explain the various circumstances that led to this not working out, but shortly after I arrived, I learned that I wouldn’t be going to this orphanage after all.  Fortunately, I was quickly reassigned to a new project with Anne, a twenty-six-year-old Danish girl who I had met during my first week in Dar es Salaam.  My new assignment was that of working at an establishment known as “Jane’s Place,” both a school for young children and a center for widowed Maasai women located in Ngaramtoni, about 12 kilometers outside of Arusha city.  When I first received the description for this project, it sounded as though about 250 orphans and 25 Maasai widows lived at some sort of institution at which I would be helping – an overwhelming step up from my original assignment.  In reality, there are just about 80 children, ranging in age from two to eleven, and no more than ten Maasai women.  All of them live within the community, as there is no actual established institution at which they live.  Although they are called “orphans,” most of the children still have either one or both of their parents.  Despite this, all of them are facing especially poor social circumstances that prevent their families from being able to afford school.  Monday through Friday, the children come to a one-room school house just a short walk from where I am living and attend classes from about 9:00 AM to 2:00 PM.  In addition, on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings, a small group of widowed Maasai women gathers in the school yard to bead jewelry traditional to their tribe and to enjoy each other’s company.

Although I help out with the beading and really enjoy spending time with the women, the majority of my time volunteering is spent with the children.  Despite the school being only one room, the children are divided into three classes.  My class is known as the “baby class” and is made up of thirty children between the ages of two and five.  Although these children have very little and are faced with especially difficult circumstances at home, they never fail to show up to school on time every day with smiles on their faces, eager to learn.  Staff and supplies at the school are quite limited, but they do not allow this to discourage them.

To give you an idea of how the school functions, there is one permanent teacher for each of the three classes, and then whatever volunteers are present at the time help out the teachers (at this time, it is just Anne and me).  Each class has a chalkboard, helping to divide up the different regions of the room, and the seats and tables for the children are oriented to face the chalkboard.  While the two older classes have what one might consider fairly legitimate desks, my class actually has only long benches that reach just about a foot off the ground paired with long, bench-like tables that are perhaps two feet off the ground.  There really isn’t enough room for all of the children on these benches, but they crowd on so that they are shoulder to shoulder (as you might imagine, this does wonders in aiding their focus, as they are already very young children with quite short attention spans).  Conflicts over personal space, pencils, small scraps of paper, and interesting fragments of trash that the children encounter erupt frequently, often resulting in tears and indiscernible Kiswahili, but thankfully the teacher with whom I work has remarkable control over most situations.

Priscus, a twenty-year-old boy who lives near the school, teaches the baby class full-time.  He actually has no interest in ever becoming a teacher, but he has not been able to find a job since moving to Ngaramtoni from Kilimanjaro and has thus decided to spend his time helping the children of his neighborhood.  While the other two teachers are paid, he receives nothing for his help.  Despite this, he is unquestionably the most enthusiastic of the three and is adored by the children.  Each day, I assist him in teaching the children a variety of lessons including the alphabet, numbers, music, English, and coloring (my favorite, of course).  Due to the shortage in supplies, both of us also typically spend a good portion of time searching for and struggling to sharpen pencils for the children.  Only about half of the children typically have workbooks to write in, and we are always quite far from being able to find a pencil for each of them.  Chalk is quite the valued commodity, and as for blackboard erasers, it’s often a choice between your hand and a scrap piece of paper you happen to find on the floor.  The building is quite dim due to the fact that it has no electricity, and there is constant competition to be heard over the noise of the other two classes.  Despite all of these unfavorable circumstances, the children are a pleasure to teach and never cease to surprise me with how clever they are.  I am still working on names (I usually use break time to work on learning them), but just to give you an idea of a few of them off of the top of my head, there’s Lavu, Musa, Pendo, Esther, Felista, Baracka, Dori, Jenny, Noel, Bioto, Joyce, Mischa, Johnson, Samuel, Rachel, Leah, Prisca, Eliyah, Jackson, and Angel.  Certainly by the end of my time here, I intend to be able to name them all; I have to admit, however, that like all small children, they are often a bit difficult to understand.  Thankfully, I have some time yet.  I already know that I’m going to miss them all terribly when I return home.

MY HOST FAMILY

Although I was a bit disappointed at first when I learned that I wouldn’t be working at an orphanage, a major resulting advantage is that I am now able to live with a host family.  About a five-minute walk from the school, my host family includes Mama Grace (the mother); her two sons, Steve (26) and Gilbert (22); her daughter, Beatrice (19); and Victoria, a young woman who helps with work at the home and lives there along with her five-year-old son, Jackson.  The father of the family passed away seventeen years ago, and Lillian, the oldest daughter, lives in Dar es Salaam.  The family has been quite hospitable, and everyone except for Jackson speaks English remarkably well.  They are presumably doing better financially than many of the individuals who live close to the school, as they have electricity and a solidly built home.  Many of the families who live in the area still live in structures built of sticks and mud, so I admittedly feel a bit guilty for how well I have it where I am staying.  In only taking a very short walk to school or into the center of town, I am able to see quite clearly just how little I can take for granted. 

Although the mother, who is a pastor at a nearby church, and the children, who are either studying or working, are all quite busy, they always take time to say hello and see how I am doing.  I have also made it a point to help the mother, Beatrice, and Victoria in preparing dinner, so while I learn how to cook traditional Tanzanian food, I also have the opportunity to make conversation and help with the large work load that comes with living in any home.  I have also gotten to know the oldest son, Steve, quite well, as he has been especially helpful in showing Anne and me around the area.  Everyone in the family greatly delights in making fun of Anne’s and my relative lack of proficiency when it comes to finding our way around town, doing laundry, speaking Kiswahili, preparing their traditional meals, and so many other things; yet, they are certainly in their right, and we are luckily improving with time. 

Oh, goodness … I have so much more to tell about my time here, but before the power cuts out again (it’s happened about four times since I’ve tried to write home), I better say goodbye.  If I have any control over the situation, however, I will do my best to write again before too long concerning some of the interesting experiences and conversations I’ve had since I’ve been here.  It has been a lot to adjust to, but I am enjoying learning about such a different culture.  I hope all of you are doing well, and I would love to hear some news from you.

Until next time … whenever that will be … amani (peace),

Bridget

9 August 2008

So, it has just dawned on me that perhaps one of you may be wondering why on earth I’m making this trip.  And rightly so – I, too, would like to know if I were you.  So, if anyone comes up with an answer, gladly share it with me at your earliest convenience.

No, no … only kidding.  If I can explain the reasoning behind my penguin theme, I better be able to explain why I’m about to travel to an entirely different hemisphere for the rest of my summer.  So, here goes.  Please bear with me if it doesn’t make all that much sense – I tend to have trouble really expressing in words how I feel about the things that are most important to me.

Alright, so let’s start from the top.  I go to the University of Cincinnati, and I’m in the industrial design program in the university’s College of Design, Architecture, Art, and Planning. All you really need to know is that I’m in DAAP … pronounced, “dap” … and that it’s about all I see at the university.  It sounds pretty pathetic, but I actually couldn’t be happier.  My major is just about the most awesome thing I ever could have come across, and so are the people I get to spend my time with everyday.  (Don’t get me wrong; it’s a lot of work.  When you like what you’re doing, though, it doesn’t seem half as bad.) 

So, you might be wondering just what industrial design is.  Put succinctly, it’s an applied art dealing with the design of products … and by products, I mean essentially anything that isn’t a building (architects), apparel (fashion designers), or some form of visual communication (graphic and digital designers).  That leaves you with essentially everything you might be able imagine, including consumer electronics, appliances, furniture, toys, packaging, medical equipment … I think you get the picture.  Industrial designers determine what it is that any portion of the population needs or desires, and then consider key areas including function, aesthetics, and ergonomics to design a product to meet to these needs.

Clearly, there is a lot of freedom to specialize within the field of industrial design – not every designer designs every type of product.  Although I have a good deal of time before I must make any sort of definitive choice concerning my focus, it’s something that I truly enjoy considering.  Through all of the time I have spent thinking about and researching the many possibilities I may one day have, I have developed a deep desire to pursue the focus of social design within my field.  In this manner, I would work to design products to meet the essential needs of individuals most in need of good design, with a goal of bringing about serious positive change in their lives.  No matter what a person’s situation may be in life, I believe that every individual deserves effective design; I want to be a part of ensuring that such a thing happens.

Although most of us are able to afford more than what we absolutely need as consumers, many individuals do not have this luxury.  Unfortunately, because their purchasing power does not offer much incentive within a consumer market, they are overlooked far too often within the field of design.  Although it might not be the most profitable choice, the idea of being able to design for the people who need it most seems like the absolute ultimate way I could ever consider to spending my life. In choosing this focus, I would like to be able to design for the most underserved populations in any region of the world, doing anything from designing temporary housing for individuals who have suffered through natural disaster, to water purification systems for individuals who do not have clean drinking water, to even simply basic household goods for individuals in need of effective design but often forced to go without.

While I might not be able to spend all of my time designing for countries still working largely on development, this aspect of the field certainly engages my interest the most.  What is important to consider, however, is that in order to be able to design for a specific population, you must have a deep understanding of their needs and interests.  Although you might be able to learn quite a bit through research, I believe that the only way to truly be in touch with your target population is to have experienced precisely what they experience every day.  This is especially important in my field of interest because in order to create practical designs for those who possess little, I will need to take into account the precise resources they do.  In this way, I will be able to design products that use these resources efficiently and can be sustained by the people.  By living in Tanzania for seven weeks this summer, I will be able at least to begin to get a taste of the conditions individuals living in a developing country face each day. 

As for my decision to work at an orphanage, there are several reasons.  First of all, I absolutely love children, so why not make them the primary focus of my time there?  I believe I will be able to form strong bonds with them even in the short time I will be visiting, and through these bonds, I know I am bound to learn volumes.  I experienced a better childhood than I could have ever asked for; more than anything, I wish that the children of Tanzania could be given the same opportunities in life I received. I know that I will leave the country having received much more than I could ever offer – that is the nature of one person doing what he or she can to help many.  If there were any group I could help, however, I would love for it to be the children.  They are their country’s one and only future, and should I ever have the privilege of designing for Tanzania, I will undoubtedly be working with the children and young adults of today with the interests and potential of the children of tomorrow in mind.

At this point, the experiences I will encounter on this incredibly new journey are entirely a mystery.  One cannot say if I will be able to achieve my goals or if I will even leave still wanting to design for the underprivileged of countries like Tanzania.  The only way to take this most necessary step in evaluating my future, however, is to just go for it.  All anxiousness, excitement, and expectations aside, this trip is bound to teach me something, and I am off to learn it.

Friday, 18 July 2008

…. they are discouraged by clients not trusting their better judgment.  

So, I figured out how to code for dates, and of course, everything looks much better without them.  Don’t worry - I’ll still type them on the first post of any particular day, but that will certainly be enough.  Not like you were really all that worried in the first place.  

Hah … so this is what design school does to a person.  Speaking of which, don’t my classes sound so intense?

Tuesday, 15 July, 2008

Just as I finish defending my theme, I realize there are no dates incorporated. The historical worth of my posts is now significantly lessened - one might even go so far as to say eliminated altogether - and my dreams of being in a history book one day may very well have just been destroyed.  Logically, I could just change the theme, but I still like it.  I even tried figuring out how to code for the post date myself, but somehow the two hours I spent learning about coding from my fine friend Katie Lee weren’t quite enough to prepare me.  So, I suppose I’ll just have to add them within the actual posts … problem solved :)

Monday, 14 July, 2008