Monday, August 16, 2004
Sunday, August 15
Two students appeared at my door tonight as I was getting ready to cook dinner for myself – boiled potatoes and cabbage with some fried, spiced eggplant on the side. Hey, it beats ugali and beans. The students were both from Form-IV. I teach only Form-III. The one student had been part of our chemistry exhibition last week and he was there to introduce his friend who had an unpronounceable name. I’ll call him Juma. Juma is a handsome kid, solid, looks like he should be leading the varsity wrestling team if there was one at Nsumba. But he doesn’t know English very well and his friend had to do quite a bit of translation. This is a bit troublesome for a Form-IV student – I expect my Form-IIIs to follow my learned classroom dissertations with understanding and I think they do for the most part. Form-IVs should be even better.
As could be expected, Juma’s problem had to do with money. The headmaster is cracking down and insisting that it is time now for school fees to be paid in full. The amount Juma’s parents came up with was Ts10,000 shy He is free to take off to visit his parents on school time to get the rest, but he says they don’t have it, and anyway it would cost him Ts7,000 just to go there and back. Says he lives in Mara, so that sounds about right. Maybe as a student he could do it for Ts5,000, but that is quibbling. I’ve never seen kids hitchhiking here, but I do suspect that catching a free ride on the back of a truck is often possible. But he is trying to “loan” the money from various people and I was on the top of his list. Hey, Americans are rich, right? By Tanzanian standards, we sure are – although here we are on the Peace Corps dole, so hopefully they know this by reputation and not by observation. Still, here I am with my laptop, shortwave radio, magazines, quality bicycle, and living in the nicest house in the neighborhood.
So I ask Juma what kind of grades he has been getting. From his report, they are not great, but pretty good. Of course I have no way of confirming that, at least not right now. Family? Parents are farmers, his two brothers and his sister do not have jobs. What does he want to do with his education? That catches him by surprise, but he recovers and says he wants to help Tanzanians progress and be educated. Be a teacher? He hadn’t considered that. He is clearly winging it on these answers, and losing confidence.
Form-IV would make him a junior in a US high school. Kids this age shouldn’t be expected to have formulated their life plan, or to have the primary responsibility for paying their way in life. He ought to be worrying about girls and how the wrestling team is doing. But this is Tanzania and the spectre of Darwin is not that far removed.
I am moved by his account of his situation, and I am deeply pulled to give him the $10. Or at least $2 for god’s sake, to help him a bit. But I know that if I do I will be branded as the “easy mark” for every kid in the school. And anyway I do not know him and he is not even in any of my classes.
Instead, I pull out the Credo I wrote for my classes and quote “With planning, with knowledge, with hard work and care for my health I can and will create the life that I choose.” I feel pompous as all hell. I suggest that it is late now, and he should have been choosing his life and planning and thinking about the money he will need long before today. I say “You want to educate Tanzanians and say you are a good student. Many students want tutors, have you considered tutoring students for some of the money you need? “ This takes time to translate, it is an unexpected bolt from the blue for him. Juma does not understand, and when he does he does not believe or accept this as a credible idea – he is here to study not to work or teach. Besides, he needs the money NOW.
Juma is dejected as it has become apparent that I am going to lecture him instead of paying his way. But my heart isn’t into beating him up too much so I confirm that I am not going to give him any money and I excuse myself by wishing him well and saying that now I must go to prepare for my classes tomorrow.
They leave, friends walking away slowly, hand in hand. I feel like Scrooge.
Two students appeared at my door tonight as I was getting ready to cook dinner for myself – boiled potatoes and cabbage with some fried, spiced eggplant on the side. Hey, it beats ugali and beans
As could be expected, Juma’s problem had to do with money. The headmaster is cracking down and insisting that it is time now for school fees to be paid in full. The amount Juma’s parents came up with was Ts10,000 shy
So I ask Juma what kind of grades he has been getting. From his report, they are not great, but pretty good. Of course I have no way of confirming that, at least not right now. Family? Parents are farmers, his two brothers and his sister do not have jobs. What does he want to do with his education? That catches him by surprise, but he recovers and says he wants to help Tanzanians progress and be educated. Be a teacher? He hadn’t considered that. He is clearly winging it on these answers, and losing confidence.
Form-IV would make him a junior in a US high school. Kids this age shouldn’t be expected to have formulated their life plan, or to have the primary responsibility for paying their way in life. He ought to be worrying about girls and how the wrestling team is doing. But this is Tanzania and the spectre of Darwin is not that far removed.
I am moved by his account of his situation, and I am deeply pulled to give him the $10. Or at least $2 for god’s sake, to help him a bit. But I know that if I do I will be branded as the “easy mark” for every kid in the school. And anyway I do not know him and he is not even in any of my classes.
Instead, I pull out the Credo I wrote for my classes and quote “With planning, with knowledge, with hard work and care for my health I can and will create the life that I choose.” I feel pompous as all hell. I suggest that it is late now, and he should have been choosing his life and planning and thinking about the money he will need long before today. I say “You want to educate Tanzanians and say you are a good student. Many students want tutors, have you considered tutoring students for some of the money you need? “ This takes time to translate, it is an unexpected bolt from the blue for him. Juma does not understand, and when he does he does not believe or accept this as a credible idea – he is here to study not to work or teach. Besides, he needs the money NOW.
Juma is dejected as it has become apparent that I am going to lecture him instead of paying his way. But my heart isn’t into beating him up too much so I confirm that I am not going to give him any money and I excuse myself by wishing him well and saying that now I must go to prepare for my classes tomorrow.
They leave, friends walking away slowly, hand in hand. I feel like Scrooge.
