Leroy's Art Blog

Today really feels pushed. I have had a parade of students coming to my home all day, to correct mistakes I made in grading papers. Most of their requests are justified – my poor math in adding up the marks, or my not finding where they hid answers to questions.

The average on the test was still in the low thirties, but I have many fewer zeros, and one hero even got 102 points – out of a possible 120 counting the two extra credit questions.

I gave one kid a zero because I thought it was obvious from his paper that he had cheated on both the extra credit questions. He came to my home, wanting more points and not understanding that I had given him a zero. That was a shocker to him. Of course he said he didn’t cheat. I sat him down, gave him paper and told him to show me that he knew how to do the problem. It took him a long time, but he got one of the problems and owned up to copying the answer on the other. He used a different formula than I had taught, and we talked about how he found that formula. Turns out he has been studying quite a bit on his own. He really is a pretty good student, and I didn’t want to a student who is putting in this kind of extra effort fail. So he agreed that docking him 15 points would be fair, and that resolved the issue.

I did take time out to go downtown today, and the only flights I can book for Myrna are horrendous. Forty-seven hours from Guatemala to Dar es Salaam, with a stop at Atlanta and big layovers at New York and London. But it is the high tourist season, and not much is available. But I have to get her OK before signing her up for such torture. Since I need to buy the tickets tomorrow before I leave for the IST, we are in crunch time here.

Now I have to get myself packed, and copy my grades so I can hand them in first thing in the morning.

Frequently some event or situation occurs for which I just don’t have the cultural context to understand. Like when neighbor and her daughter came and asked for my backpack. The daughter, Tumaine, has mentioned it since. They really did think I would give them my backpack. I still don’t quite grasp that – I think there is some kind of sense here that “What’s yours is also mine” and so what we think of as personal property sort of becomes community property here.

Or, at the Form VI graduation ceremony there were these Native Dancers from Bujora who gave a selection of performances. Most of them were various dances – hunting, harvesting, celebrating, warring... Great stuff, cultural, very interesting and entertaining. But one of thier performances was an extended skit of three guys on stage. They were clowns really, but dressed in the Emmet Kelly sense, not the yellow-polka-dot orange-hair floppy-shoe variety. Ragged, torn clothes. Whiteface beards, mustaches and eyebrows. Fake musical instruments that they used in all sorts of nonsensical ways. Blowing the horn from their ears, ass, using it suggestively. Generally acting like fools. Good fun, but I did feel uneasy watching it – it was really a classical old minstrel show just without the one-liners. Their skits could not be performed in the US anywhere without creating a major racial scandal. Here? Apparently just Curly and Moe doing the Three Stooges bit. Who WAS the third guy in the Stooges, anyway?

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Boy there is a lot happening right now. It feels like a whirlwind:

My First Term Final was given on Thursday and I just finished grading the papers late this evening. What an ordeal. Scores were still way lower than I had hoped – the average score in the mid-twenties. But lots fewer zeros than on my previous tests, and a high-end cohort that extended all the way up to one score in the 90s. Amazing. And two students have stopped me on the school grounds to say that they thought it was a good test. (!)

I am really glad to have all that grading completed before I leave for the Peace Corps In-Service Training (IST) in Morogoro. The Chem exam had originally been scheduled for Monday, the day I leave. I had it moved up specifically so I could do the grading before I left. But they only rescheduled the test, and not teachers to proctor it – on “invigilate,” as they call it here. So there was this last minute scramble to find invigilators for five classes. Fortunately I had prepared the test myself and paid to have it photocopied, so I did not have to deal with the mistakes of the school secretary and the inky botched papers from the school mimeograph on top of it all.

Morogoro is relatively close to Dar es Salaam, less than two hours away by bus. So after the IST I want to spend a week or so in Dar visiting organizations that teach or are involved in entrepreneurship one way or another for guidance in setting up our Life Opportunity Club. I found that there is cheap camping at Kipepeo Beach, which is a beautiful resort on the Indian Ocean only 10 km from the center of Dar. I’m thinking this would be a great place to hang out when I am not “working” if I take my tent and bed roll along with me.

Meanwhile, I am trying to put together the flights to bring Myrna here to live with me. I had hoped she could arrive right after the IST so we could be together around Dar for a few days, leisurely take the train back to Mwanza (a two-day ride) and be together while she settles in during our school break that lasts from Monday until July 12. But there have been all kinds of last-minute snags. We are now in the tourist high season, and flight availability is limited and expensive. Myrna is very anxious about traveling halfway round the world alone. There have also been a lot of loose ends she had to tie up after her Father’s death last month. And we had to again discuss, at length, the nature of her relationship with me when she arrives. This is not easy by email and phone. The phone connection is not the greatest, and my Spanish is barely up to long-distance discussions of deep relationships, especially while sitting in a cramped booth in the internet cafe to avoid the exorbitant land line phone charges. All this has had to be in the context of what the Peace Corps will allow and their policies on visitors – max permitted time is 30 days without special dispensation.

I think it is all coming together. I can return the graded papers to the class monitors tomorrow to distribute to the kids before they leave. Then I can pull together the files and clothes I need for the trip, including visiting Zanzibar for Emily and John’s wedding on the 10th. Myrna confirmed today that yes, she will travel at the end of June if I can get the tickets put together. The travel agent is open from 10 to 12 on Sunday and hopefully has lined up our arrangements that include a one-way ticket Guatemala to NY (Continental) and mandatory round trip since it is tourist season NY to London to Dar (British Air). That leaves Monday morning to work out a financing system since I don’t think the travel agent takes VISA, and be at the airport by 2.

Whew.

I’m feeling pretty ambivalent about the IST. It will be great to see everyone again, but after that... I just don’t think I am up for the mandatory group Kiswahili lessons, more flip-chart group processing of what our experiences in Africa have been so far and yet deeper explorations into the socio-medical aspects of the AIDS epidemic here in Africa. Can’t we just go hang out at a bar and talk about what we have been doing?

Oh it will probably be wonderful once it gets going.

Again, I am driven to comment on what is happening in the world outside of Africa.

So I am not resident in the United States for the time being, and must get my news and opinion primarily from the BBC World Service and from the internet. But I absolutely cannot understand why there does not seem to be any popular outrage about what we are learning of the actions of our government. Does no-one back home see that we have handed victory to Osama while he sat it out on the sidelines, that our credibility in the Middle East is in negative figures, and that we have vastly magnified the danger of terrorism all over the world?

Granted: If concern for human rights and a belief that the US really does want to encourage understanding, peace and freedom in the world makes me a flaming liberal, then I plead guilty. But how can it be that all the papers are now solemnly reporting that the interrogation methods we used in Iraq were simply imported from our methods in Afghanistan, as though that somehow is a rationalization? Do people really think for a moment that brutal US-sponsored torture is OK if it is only used in Afghanistan or Guantanamo? And why is no one asking what is going on in Guantanamo? For that matter, has anyone asked how Saddam is being treated? Yes he may be a monster but he was the head of a sovereign government and he is now our responsibility.

Sorry for this screed, but I can’t stand it. My stomach churns when I hear or see a newscast. I wrote a REAL rant after the whole torture story broke but didn’t post it because surely more information would ameliorate the evil, or my country would rise up in outrage against those who perpetrate such evil in our name. But it seems to be business as usual and by the way we have a policy for the torture, sexual abuse and murder of prisoners, many of whom appear to be innocent and some of whom are children. Is this really my country?

I am breaking my policy again of not injecting politics into this blog:

So I am not resident in the United States for the time being, and must get my news and opinion primarily from the BBC World Service and from the internet. But I absolutely cannot understand why there does not seem to be any popular outrage about what we are learning of the actions of our government. Does no-one back home see that we have handed victory to Osama while he has been sitting on the sidelines, that our credibility in the Middle East is in negative figures, and that we have vastly magnified the danger of terrorism all over the world?

Granted: If concern for human rights and a belief that the US really does want to encourage understanding, peace and freedom in the world makes me a flaming liberal, then I plead guilty. But how can it be that all the papers are now solemnly reporting that the interrogation methods we used in Iraq were simply imported from our methods in Afghanistan, as though that somehow is a rationalization? Do people really think for a moment that brutal US-sponsored torture is OK if it is only used in Afghanistan or Guantanamo? And why is no one asking what is going on in Guantanamo? For that matter, has anyone asked how Saddam is being treated? Yes he may be a monster but he was the head of a sovereign government and he is now our responsibility.

Sorry for this screed, but I can’t stand it. My stomach churns when I hear or see a newscast. I wrote a REAL rant after the whole torture story broke but didn’t post it because surely more information would ameliorate the evil, or my country would rise up in outrage against those who perpetrate such evil in our name. But it seems to be business as usual and by the way we have a policy for the torture, sexual abuse and murder of prisoners, many of whom appear to be innocent and some of whom are children. Is this really my country?

The first term at my school is coming to a close. This past week I have been reviewing material instead of presenting new stuff. All next week is devoted to the mid-year examinations. One class got sassy – I walked out on them and went to the Staff Room until they came and asked me to come back. The other classes were all attentive, and their questions showed that at least some of them had been studying. I’m even encouraged to think that at least the better students have gotten beyond memorization into the realm of understanding. But I better wait to see the scores on my examination before I get too self-satisfied.

This weekend has been graduation for our seniors – called Form VI here. All the lines of stones bordering the drive have been freshly splashed with whitewash and every shrub has been given a crew cut. The seniors buy special clothes for the day, this class chose green shirts and gray pants. We had the District Commissioner here to give the commencement address, which was preceded by an equally long address by our headmaster. Unfortunately everything was in Kiswahili. Fortunately these were bracketed by songs and skits by the students, and we had also imported a troupe of native dancers that were quite good. No diplomas were given out, but the teachers got handed bonuses – 3000 shillings for each of their students who got an A, 1500 for a B. I wonder what the effect this has on grade inflation.

After the graduation ceremony all the students along with the teachers and parents trooped over to the dining hall for a big dinner of pilau and white rice, cooked banana and stewed meat, eaten with fingers as usual. There is a protocol for this finger eating. Hands are washed on the way into the dining hall and again on the way out. If you then meet someone between these washings, you offer them your wrist instead of your hand to shake. Food is only eaten with the right hand. Tradition has it that the left hand is used for other necessary but unsavory purposes – remember that paper is usually considered an extravagance here.

Then there was an evening party for the teachers. The guests of honor were still hanging around, so they were there too. The headmaster gave another speech and so did the Commissioner who then took questions from the floor about education policy. Seems a lot of teachers have had problems with their medical and pension plans, so there were lots of questions. And looong answers. All in kiswahili of course. Some party! But with music and a bag lunch and after several rounds of beer the room began to look less like a high school dance and there was activity on the dance floor. The first group of people on the floor were men dancing together. Then it turned into pairs of women dancing, men dancing, and finally a few couples. A woman invited me to dance, and during the dance a guy joined us so the three of us were dancing together. I stayed on for a while and cut out about 11:30. I think the music died out around 1:30am.

Tuesday 18 May

I guess I really have lost weight. I put on my fancy dress this evening. Dress shirt with tie, sport jacket, my pants even had a crease. This was the first time I have worn a tie and jacket since our induction ceremony at the US Embassy in Dar es Salaam last November. It certainly felt strange to ride downtown crowded like a sardine in the daladala wearing this outfit which must have been every bit as exotic as the Massai in their red robes, expanded earlobes and automobile-tire sandals. The outfit I was wearing used to feel quite good, but now it just kind of hangs. My shirt collar felt loose, my pants sort of bunched up at my waist, and my jacket felt a size and a half too large.

The cause of all this sartorial splendor was my invitation to talk to the Mwanza Rotary Club tonight about our ideas for starting a Life Opportunity Club to empower out-of-school kids to be self-reliant and give them some of the skills to start small businesses. The Rotary meets at the fancy – in relative terms – New Mwanza Hotel on Tuesday nights. It has about 20 members and is a rather clubby group that enjoys getting together for a beer and a meal and to tease each other. And they also try to do some good works from time to time. They gave a report on a little girl who the Rotary had transported to Albany NY for a heart operation. Apparently a US Rotary footed the airline bill, but the Mwanza Club did get her to the airport on time, and gave her a rousing welcome when she returned.

The only other necktie to be seen was worn by my host, Mr. Sridhar, branch manager of the EXIM Bank, and even he did not wear a jacket. Still, better to be overdressed than underdressed and it was an enjoyable change to wear such formal attire although I am glad that I don’t need to dress like this every day.

The Club was quite receptive to my little presentation. I didn’t talk very much about our plans, I used a handout to give information on that. Instead, I talked about my view that there is a need to help the kids who are dropped by their schools to get a start in life, and how this comes together with my view that there is no information available here to support anyone who wants to start a small business. How only 27% of the students make it from middle school to high school, and only 25% of the kids who are dropped can find jobs. How St. Augustine University, specializing in economics and accounting, has no books – nada, zero – books in their library about starting or running a small business.

Then I talked a little about the resources that are available to present such a program. The two St. Augustine University graduates who will be the instructors. The other organizations I intend to visit in Dar es Salaam for ideas and, hopefully, materials. The contribution of housing for the instructors at no cost by the University. And I shared with them how all the teachers I talk to about the program immediately want to know how they can take the program themselves and how encouraging everyone has been.

I ended by saying that of course we need money, not too much, or some help in knowing where to go for money but that I think our biggest need is to identify people who might serve on a Board of Directors or Advisors to oversee activities and guide development of the project and give it sustainability. If our program is successful, do we expand it to include those eager teachers? Target other groups of young people? Farmers? See if a micro-loan organization will work with us to make money available for good ideas? Try a satellite program in Musoma? Is there a way to make the program pay for itself?

This gave the guy beside me an opportunity to say how he wanted to do much the same kind of thing, which he discussed for about as long as my own presentation had been. He pointed out that these would be difficult kids to work with but that it was important to try. Not to expect grand results. But in the end he was in favor of what I had presented. There was a smattering of other comments and some helpful suggestions. Nobody was jumping up and down, but it had their interest.

The President said that they elect new leadership in June and that the current leaders would discuss the project with the incoming leaders. He felt sure that the Rotary would want to talk with me about how to develop the project, and said that a committee would visit me soon to explore that. Several members mentioned that next year is the Centennial Year for the Rotary, and this might become their Centennial Project.

Afterwards, Sridhar and another Rotarian drove me back to Nsumba. He was a thin, wiry guy with an easy smile who never stopped talking for the whole 12 km ride. He said he has been in Africa for fifteen years and rattled off a long list of countries in which he worked before coming to Tanzania three years ago. He is a computer and communications expert, and his company is getting a shipment of computers some time soon, one of which he said he would make available to us. Assuming that this comes to pass, it reduces the amount of money we need by about a third.

One of the members also suggested that Kulianas, an NGO that works with street kids and has a large facility close to the center of town, could likely provide the space for our meetings. I’ve already talked with Kulianas during my survey of potential organizations for Myrna when she comes and they do seem like a logical group to work with on a project like this one.

This is good stuff to report back with to Peter and Samwel tomorrow night.

Did I already say that I rode my bicycle to the Bujora Museum? That was last weekend actually, but I think something else had come up that I wanted to write about instead. The Bujora Museum is north of Mwanza, leaving town on Nyerere Road out past the large white mosque that somehow looks out of place and the big used clothing market, disguised by its narrow entryway between two used sneaker stalls. Out past Nyekato where they are building the big new bus station that will be so completely inconvenient to use, to the first of the series of long upgrades leading to Kisessa where the arrow on the road sign points left to Bujora.

Those upgrades are the problem with the ride to Bujora. Mwanza is low, by the lake, and although Kisessa is at a perfect distance for a bike ride at 18 km from Mwanza it is also the highest point on the way to Bunda. Most bike rides feel like they are mostly uphill, but this one really is. Still, my bike is good and so it is just a matter of gearing down and going a little slower.

I’m surprised that I never get comments about the bicycle helmet the Peace Corps insists we wear and that I really do when I am on high speed roads. I have yet to see another helmet and if my white skin isn’t enough to attract attention, the helmet is a flashing neon sign. But nobody has ever pointed at it and laughed as I ride by.

It is also unusual to see a white guy riding in the country, with or without a helmet. Since my bike is beautifully balanced I like to take my hands off the handlebars and sit up straight with my arms at my side while I pedal. That astonishes Tanzanians, because it is totally impossible to do with their horrid Chinese-made Phoenixes. So I picked up six or seven other bike riders who were curious enough to follow me, and who wanted to see how long I could ride without touching the handlebars. I felt like I was leading a pelethon – and I really was. A few tried the no hands bit, but gave up after they nearly fell.

It wasn’t a fair situation. On the upgrades I could just gear down and keep going without working hard. On their heavy one-speeds their kiswahili chatter would get less and less and then I would begin hearing long sighs. Still, they kept with me all the way to Kisessa. Good company.

Bujora Museum was created by a Catholic priest, a Franciscan I think, who had begun collecting cultural artifacts and icons of the Sukuma tribe. The Sukuma are one of the larger tribes that make up Tanzania although little of their culture remains beyond the language that many still use. Unfortunately the founder died some years ago and the Museum is looking a bit seedy now. There are about a dozen authentic huts, a large church built in the style and decoration of a Sukuma royal house, a dance building, a royal throne house, and then a conference center and numerous apartments built “in the style of...”

For all that, the Sukuma style is quite interesting. Lots of repetitions and variations of triangles. Even the windows are triangles. I didn’t get the historical reason for the triangles but the Franciscans loved it as they could so easily use it to indicate the Trinity.

Of course the Museum sells Sukuma crafts, and I now keep fresh fruit on my coffee table in a nice woven bowl with seven triangles arranged as a star.

When I heard that they would rent rooms ($3) and prepare dinner to your order ($2), I had to stay overnight. I was their only guest and it felt a little like the time I spent a weekend at a convent where there was a vow of silence. Lots of time to be by myself and think and read, while still feeling completely taken care of. I got up early the next morning and sketched/painted some of the Sukuma designs and triangles. The guide who was supposed to show up to give me a tour inside the buildings where they have lots of tribal items and cultural artifacts to view and study, didn’t. So that will be there for my next trip to the Museum, whenever.

The ride back to Mwanza was a dream. Lots of coasting downhill.

My neighbor tells me that he loves me. I haven’t told Myrna. Yet.

Maxxon is a teacher and discipline master at the school. I am not sure whether his statement is merely a kiswahili useage of being friendly, whether he is speaking poetically, or whether there is truly a stronger interpretation to be implied here. Whenever I see him after school hours he is slurring his words and not walking very steadily, so without doubt large quantities of beer have much to do with whatever sentiments he is attempting to convey.

Although I have certainly not seen any evidence, the culture here seems to take promiscuity for granted. If a man and a woman are ever alone in private for any reason, it is assumed that it is a sexual laison. Partly for this reason there is great interest whenever a female Peace Corps Volunteer visits Mwanza and sleeps across at my house. They do seem to make some allowances for these strange American habits though. In spite of these sexual expectations, homosexuality is unthinkable and any physical act that even suggests homosexual behavior is very severely punished. Strange then that while men or women can openly walk down the street hand in hand, a man and a woman may not physically touch in public.

So I vote for his trying to make an expression of friendship. And I’m glad to be his friend, but don’t care to be around an in-your-face sloppy drunk. So I avoid him whenever I can. Unfortunately he drinks at Frida’s banda across the football pitch from my house. Frida’s would be a nice place to hang out now and then, have a beer and try to stumble along in my pathetic kiswahili if it were not for the high probability of running into my sloshed neighbor there.

As I write this I have several strong students throwing logs into a pile in back of my house. I shared a bunch of the new vegetable seeds I recently got in the mail with another teacher. She decided I needed a fence around my next sweet corn patch to protect it from the goats and organized a brigade of students to build it for me. So materials are being delivered.

There was a problem this morning when I took my cold shower. The drain was plugged and water was pooling deeper and deeper in the bottom of the shower stall. It seemed strange, because I never had this kind of problem before at all. It was also a concern because the tap water here comes from the lake and the lake is contaminated with parasites. I have it on reliable authority that these parasites are slow and not very energetic so that they are not a problem in moving water like in a shower, only if you would be standing in a pool of water for some time. As in taking a shower with a plugged drain for instance.

So I was standing outside the shower, soaping up and watching the pool get deeper and deeper and wondering how long it would take me to get back in just to rinse off. In the middle of this contemplation there suddenly was a THWAK and out popped a frog from the drain hole. He hopped over to the corner of the stall while the water quickly drained, then jumped back into the hole and poked his head out to look at me. We came to a quick accommodation: I didn’t scare him farther down the hole, and he didn’t plug the drain anymore. Problem handled.

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The Life Opportunity Club is fun to work on. I approached the Deputy Vice Chancellor of St. Augustine University yesterday, Bwana Kitururu, to see if the U. might help us by donating room and maybe board to their two graduates who will be running our programs. Chances were not good but hey, the worst they can do is say “No.” The DVC looked around for someone who could help and ended up with the Univ Administrator who was pretty negative about space but wanted a week to think about how else they might help. I’ll talk to him again on Friday.

Better, the EXIM Bank Manager downtown in Mwanza said his friends at the Rotary Club liked our idea, and we should get an invitation to present our plan to their membership next Tuesday. This ought to be worth a warm fuzzy feel good, possibly a small contribution, and hopefully some ideas on where else we might go to find enough money to set our plans in motion.

** **** **
No word from the Peace Corps Director yet on whether Myrna will be permitted to stay with me for more than 30 days. This has to be really tough for her, because she can’t be sure whether she should prepare for a several week visit or a 1½ year move. That isn’t much of a packing problem for her, but sure is a major problem in deciding what to do with her house, for instance.

Of course, I would want to propose that she stay here, and even in the worst case we could rent a place to give her an official alternative address and after that we could still stay together but unofficially. She doesn’t like to skirt issues though, and I doubt that she would go for this plan. Hope we don’t have to find out.

So, some background on the Life Opportunity Club.

Tanzania is this beautiful country with incredible scenery and storybook animals, filled with attractive friendly people. My part of the country has an unbelievably comfortable year-round climate. I am waiting to see what the dry season looks like, but meanwhile it is not a bad setting for Camelot. But in this garden of Eden the people are wretchedly poor. Jobs are scarce and few pay a living wage. Even teachers, like all the rest of Tanzanian civil servants, are expected to have something working on the side because their pay is acknowledged to be too low to support a family.

So in this atmosphere of static misery in the midst of beauty and plenty, everyone is sitting on their hands waiting for the Government to DO SOMETHING for them, give them money, even while believing that their leaders are corrupt and so not interested in doing anything except lining their own pockets. There is this socialist residue from Julius Nyerere on top of the colonialist oppression and maybe even from the tribal structures before that that has left the people here docile, looking for someone else to take care of them. They are very hard working, but not self-reliant. Everything is “If God Willing.”

That is a stereotype. A few Tanzanians DO want to take charge of their lives. My friend Paul with the chickens is one. The vendors working the streets downtown are clearly in it for themselves. But none of them have any information or encouragement about how to be independent – how to start a small business – how to think about whether an idea is worthwhile, or how to know whether a business is making money or not, where to go for advice or help.

Meanwhile most students do not get into high school, and only 27% of the dropouts are able to find a job of any kind at all. They have no resources – the schools provide no help at all, and there are no social services to help them. Many end up simply hanging out on the streets in town, getting chased by the police.

Given this, I was astounded to find the woman beside me at the internet cafe typing out a thesis entitled “Record keeping and Bookkeeping in Small Business in Tanzania. Case Study: Mwanza.” That led me to Samwel and his friend Peter, who then brought in their friend Paul. And now here we are, trying to find a way to give information to Tanzanians about how to start and run a small business. We want to focus on the fresh school dropouts (forceouts would be a better term) who desperately need help whether they know it or not, and the street vendors downtown who are scrambling to survive but don’t know how.

Peter and Samwel are both big guys, smart, outgoing and direct in their manner. Their height and bulk leads you to think of them as athletes but they are too soft for that. They have an attractive air of confidence about them. With firm handshakes, good command of English and an uncharacteristic ability to focus on problems and suggest solutions, our meetings are usually productive and relatively brief. They are eager to accomplish something but don’t know how. They graduate in June, Peter in Communications and Samwel in Accounting, and neither one has any job prospects or is making any visible effort to develop any job prospects. For them, this project could easily become their jobs if we can manage to get a little funding and lift it off the ground.

Paul is a friend of Peter and Samwel that they invited to join us because he represents someone who has succeeded. Paul is a Kenyan, a take-charge kind of leader, Marketing and Operations Manager for the Marlboro Hardware and Car Accessories Co. in Mwanza. Small, wiry and perpetually answering his cellphone, he gives the impression of a guy who is working 20 deals at once that he can’t talk about. He keeps pushing us to get started, to move, which is very un-Tanzanian and makes him a very valuable part of the group. His vision of the group is a little different than mine. He is afraid that our idea is so good that unless we develop it very quickly other people will recognize it and do it first. He keeps suggesting things like our need for an office where we can meet important people, and that we should be sure to have the newspapers write about our Club, and how will we take it National?

As self-appointed secretary, the guy who has the computer to write things up and the one with the internet savvy to find resources and information, it is not hard for me to influence the direction we take. Sort of like the control of the sandlot ballgame that goes to the guy who brought the ball and bat.

At our last meeting we pretty much defined what our Life Opportunity Club might actually look like. The meetings are in my house with Peter, usually Paul, and Samwel when he decides to make it. Maybe a bowl of peanuts on the table, and the three or four of us sit around talking. Last night we tried to flesh out a tentative budget, but got stuck on what salary or stipend Peter and Samwel should have. Not a bad start, though. Looks like we need about $1400 plus the salaries for Peter and Samwel. It reads like this:

PROGRAM PLANS – LIFE OPPORTUNITY CLUB as of May 8, 2004

** Start date: First week of July, or one month after we have secured startup money. (Samwell and Peter will graduate in June.)

** Target groups: 20 school leavers and 20 street vendors for meetings 2x per week for 2 months, providing a training base of 40 young people. This would provide about 17 periods, each an hour, maybe an hour and a half at the longest. There may be a mid-course Review Session and a final Summary Session, and the course will be followed by a Graduation Ceremony with a Certificate for the participants.

** The first session may focus heavily on self-presentations of what the individuals are doing now and would like to do in the future, followed by a discussion of self-employment and generation of a long list of businesses that could be started with few financial resources. At the end, a signed commitment statement is required from those participants want to continue the program that attend all meetings on time – American time - and contribute to the discussions. We will stress that this is part of the program and represents the kind of integrity they need to establish for their business relationships. The attendance record will be posted every session, and if feasible a buddy system used to aid attendance. Perhaps charge a small fee for each session that will be returned at Graduation Set rules: Miss a session or come more than 15 minutes late and the participants are kicked out and lose their session fees. Be strict or discipline will be lost.

** Group cohesiveness will be strongly supported. A typical meeting format might be the following: At the start of the meeting, take attendance and have some small exercise or other – this allows 15 minutes for late-comers to arrive. Then break into two groups of 10 ± 3 with a Trainer, where each participant briefly updates their progress and problems since the last meeting. Then come together for a presentation of a pertinent business topic, then break into two groups of 10 or so each to discuss the topic. Finally, come together for sharing and a summary and a discussion of what the next meeting topic will be, and what they would particularly like to have covered. Maybe serve chai. Finally, clean up the meeting space before leaving.

** Later sessions will follow the same general format and be based on presentations by the Trainers, or frequent talks by guest speakers.

** Recruiting participants is by contact with local religious leaders and organizations, with the expectation that a base of 80-100 candidates will be needed to actually have 40 show up and join the program.

** Trainers: Samwell and Peter, working full time to prepare the two sets of classes and lead discussions, locate and schedule outside speakers, develop strong relationships with the business, religious and political communities, and conduct such other tasks as support the Life Opportunity Club and its participants. An evaluation with comments will be prepared after each meeting, noting attendance, suggestions and lessons learned.

** Disposable Materials: Easels and flip charts, copied handouts and homework, stenographer’s pads and pens for the participants. Cost of the Graduation Party and Certificates – participants to bring 1-2 guests each to the party.

** Administrative Needs:
The Trainers require money for room and board (room possibly donated by St. Augustine U?), transportation, cellphones and incidentals.
Classroom reference and study materials.
One computer with and printer.

** Budget: Still to be determined, along with the method of financing this program.


TRIAL BUDGET FOR LIFE OPPORTUNITY CLUB


Month 1 Recruit students, secure space, plan first session(s).
Month 2 Program runs.
Month 3 Program runs.
Month 4 Final report and planning for next stage.
Month 5 Administrative details (especially financial support) for Stage 2.


DISPOSABLE MATERIALS Month 1 Month 2 Month 3 Month 4 Month 5 TOTALS
Easels (2) 40 40
Flip charts 20 20 40
Marking pens, tape 5 5 10
Paper and copying: handouts, homework 15 15 30
Student supplies: Pens, notebooks 10 10
Graduation celebration 160 160
Framed certificates 40 40

ADMINISTRATIVE COSTS
Salaries ( 2 Trainers) ? ? ? ? ? ?
Housing 50 50 50 50 50 250
Cellphone minutes 10 10 10 10 10 50
Transportation allowance 10 10 10 10 10 50
Classroom reference and study references ?
Computer 600 600
Printer 100 100
Final report: Printing and distribution 15 15
TOTALS 770 160 110 270 85 1395

IN-KIND CONTRIBUTIONS
Lee Forney, Peace Corps Consultant 1/2 Salary

Wow. I just looked at my last posting, and boy I was pissed. Not to negate the reason for my anger, but I am feeling a lot better by now. There really was quite a range of scores – the high was an 80, which ain’t bad. When I make a histogram of the scores it clearly shows a binodal distribution – statisticese for saying that there are two distinctly different sets of students in my classes: those that are trying and those that aren’t, and there are very few in the middle who are just trying a little bit. You can’t break it down by boys vs girls, or day students vs boarders. It could be that x% of the students just don’t understand my English. The students would like to have me believe that, but it simply ain’t so.

I also woke up in the middle of the night with one of those Epiphanies that occur now and then. To get the students to understand how to use an equation, I would start with a recipe for fruit salad, then convert that into an equation and show what you can do with it, then draw the analogies to a chemical equation. It took me several days of hard writing to get what I wanted, but now I have a whole study block entitled “Learning About Equations” followed by “Using Equations to Determine Weights and Mass.” I tried out a portion of it on a class today, and I think it may work. I will insist that they copy all three typewritten pages and work out the 14 questions. And forget about the ones who won’t even try. Time and the final exam will take care of them.

** **** **
The fun stuff has been my work with a couple of St. Augustine University students from across the street. I found a couple of students who agree with me that the lack of training about starting and running a business is a serious and tragic shortcoming in Tanzania. So we have been working to define a “Life Opportunity Club” – a name I coined just to get things rolling but nobody came up with anything else. We intend to teach simple business principles, targeting two groups of young people: School Leavers and Street Vendors.

There is a National Examination halfway through high school. Only about 26% of the students get a passing grade. The rest, the School Leavers? Well, the school says “They are no longer students, they are not our problem.” For real! My Headmaster said that in just so many words! Mostly, they just kick around, live off their families, hunt whatever jobs they can. But there is a tremendous unemployment problem anyway so opportunities are nil. Quite a few end up on the street where they get into trouble and crime.

The Street Vendors are a different group – urban, street wise and independent. They are the peddlers – pencils and toothbrushes, electrical accessories, fake watches, towels, anything they can find. Occasionally the Gestapo – I mean the police – come through and chase them. They are brutal, and the kids scatter and disappear in nothing flat when the police start their sweep. These kids don’t speak English and have little schooling for the most part. No idea about what to do except peddle the same thing 20 other kids beside them are selling. No concept of evaluating what might sell best, or putting a few schillingi under the mattress for tomorrow.

So we plan to have this Club that will be partly social but give information about (forgive me for listing all this stuff, but I want to anyway):

* Self employment instead of job hunting
* How to find new business opportunities
* General business skills, and the real value of honesty and integrity
* Easy business records and bookkeeping
* How to handle money in a business
* Living with regulations, registrations, taxes and licenses
* Help from your friends, and problem solving
* Mentoring as a way to get information, experience and growth
* When to look for money and what lenders will want from you
* Living in the world of HIV/AIDS
* How to grow your business

So far we have talked to the manager of the new posh bank in town, the Chief Financial Officer of Mwanza, and some business leaders as well as students and vendors. The response has been overwhelmingly favorable. We expect to make a presentation to the Rotary Club soon. We hear that nobody else is doing anything like this, that it will be very valuable and important, that the need of this is overwhelming, that it should go national.

Well, OK, but first we have to make something happen. Right now we are still looking for model organizations to emulate or coordinate with, and talking to some churches about where and when we could hold meetings.

** **** **
Then on top of all this, the Country Director of the Peace Corps visited me on Sunday evening. She has been taking a tour of the Country, visiting Volunteers as she goes. We took a hike to the top of the hill to watch the sunset, then came back and talked over my fresh garden salad. About Myrna staying here with me. Usually this would be an imediate no-no, but Myrna has great credentials in assisting disadvantaged children, and two official glowing “To Whom It May Concern” letters from her church and the Diocese commenting on her work and personal integrity. Moreover, I have been talking to the Director of the Starehe Home for Children here, as a place where she could contribute. And my white hair can’t hurt – what there is left of it. So we will see what our Country Director comes up with.

Life sure ain’t dull.