Saturday, October 30, 2004
The rainy season has arrived with a vengeance. We have had rain off and on for the past five days. Everything has suddenly turned emerald green. My neighbors are talking about planting their gardens. I must get a roll of chicken wire to goat-proof the fence around my own little cornfield.
My friend Paul has been dropping by frequently to talk. Paul is the guy who is raising chickens to support his family, trying to increase his flock from 100 to 400. At present he is about to buy 200 chicks for the new poultry house he has built, and after the current 100 chickens stop laying he will expand the old poultry house to accommodate 200.
But meanwhile, he has learned that the school system is about to go on a major building campaign and will be looking for qualified building contractors. Paul is a certified tradesman for masonry and carpentry. So he is now deeply involved in setting up a Corporation so that he can go after the school contracts. He needs to find Directors and an accountant for his company, locate office space, and go to Dar es Salaam to register the company. If successful he will turn over the chickens to his wife, at least for the short term.
I’ve been encouraging him, and introduced him to the manager of the ExIm Bank downtown. I’d also loaned him some money before when he needed it, and he has been extremely faithful in paying the money back in regular amounts. I will probably need to help him again a bit to pull this plan through. But he works so very hard and has a good grasp of his expenses and potential, so it feels good to be able to help him this way – and to actually do something REAL to promote economic development in Tanzania. With a loan, not a gift or grant. Risk money for a good cause.
My friend Paul has been dropping by frequently to talk. Paul is the guy who is raising chickens to support his family, trying to increase his flock from 100 to 400. At present he is about to buy 200 chicks for the new poultry house he has built, and after the current 100 chickens stop laying he will expand the old poultry house to accommodate 200.
But meanwhile, he has learned that the school system is about to go on a major building campaign and will be looking for qualified building contractors. Paul is a certified tradesman for masonry and carpentry. So he is now deeply involved in setting up a Corporation so that he can go after the school contracts. He needs to find Directors and an accountant for his company, locate office space, and go to Dar es Salaam to register the company. If successful he will turn over the chickens to his wife, at least for the short term.
I’ve been encouraging him, and introduced him to the manager of the ExIm Bank downtown. I’d also loaned him some money before when he needed it, and he has been extremely faithful in paying the money back in regular amounts. I will probably need to help him again a bit to pull this plan through. But he works so very hard and has a good grasp of his expenses and potential, so it feels good to be able to help him this way – and to actually do something REAL to promote economic development in Tanzania. With a loan, not a gift or grant. Risk money for a good cause.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
I am here for such a short time, and I get frustrated because I see the problems and deficiencies all around me. It helps to get a different perspective now and then.
In the latest issue of The East African there is an essay by Bo Góransson, the Swedish ambassador to Keya, Burundi, Rwanda and Somalia. He writes that Africa has done in 30 years what the West did in 100 in the areas such as literacy, life expectance, and school attendance. He points out that in the 1980s there were 29 competitive elections for parliaments or presidencies. The figure for the 1990s was 160. Tanzania had 3,000 students at university level 10 years ago; today it has 27,000.
So yes, I see the corruption and dangers in “democracies” where the president controls the government, changes the constitution at will to remain in power, and allows only token opposition. And I see that the education system is flawed in so many ways, but again, perhaps just the literacy and perseverence that comes with educational success is enough to provide the basis for productive lives.
So maybe Góransson is right, and there is notable progress here when you can see the perspective of the longer view. I would be nice to think so.
In the latest issue of The East African there is an essay by Bo Góransson, the Swedish ambassador to Keya, Burundi, Rwanda and Somalia. He writes that Africa has done in 30 years what the West did in 100 in the areas such as literacy, life expectance, and school attendance. He points out that in the 1980s there were 29 competitive elections for parliaments or presidencies. The figure for the 1990s was 160. Tanzania had 3,000 students at university level 10 years ago; today it has 27,000.
So yes, I see the corruption and dangers in “democracies” where the president controls the government, changes the constitution at will to remain in power, and allows only token opposition. And I see that the education system is flawed in so many ways, but again, perhaps just the literacy and perseverence that comes with educational success is enough to provide the basis for productive lives.
So maybe Góransson is right, and there is notable progress here when you can see the perspective of the longer view. I would be nice to think so.
I am here for such a short time, and I get frustrated because I see the problems and deficiencies all around me. It helps to get a different perspective now and then.
In the latest issue of The East African there is an essay by Bo Góransson, the Swedish ambassador to Keya, Burundi, Rwanda and Somalia. He writes that Africa has done in 30 years what the West did in 100 in the areas such as literacy, life expectance, and school attendance. He points out that in the 1980s there were 29 competitive elections for parliaments or presidencies. The figure for the 1990s was 160. Tanzania had 3,000 students at university level 10 years ago; today it has 27,000.
So yes, I see the corruption and dangers in “democracies” where the president controls the government, changes the constitution at will to remain in power, and allows only token opposition. And I see that the education system is flawed in so many ways, but again, perhaps just the literacy and perseverence that comes with educational success is enough to provide the basis for productive lives.
So maybe Góransson is right, and there is notable progress here when you can see the perspective of the longer view. I would be nice to think so.
In the latest issue of The East African there is an essay by Bo Góransson, the Swedish ambassador to Keya, Burundi, Rwanda and Somalia. He writes that Africa has done in 30 years what the West did in 100 in the areas such as literacy, life expectance, and school attendance. He points out that in the 1980s there were 29 competitive elections for parliaments or presidencies. The figure for the 1990s was 160. Tanzania had 3,000 students at university level 10 years ago; today it has 27,000.
So yes, I see the corruption and dangers in “democracies” where the president controls the government, changes the constitution at will to remain in power, and allows only token opposition. And I see that the education system is flawed in so many ways, but again, perhaps just the literacy and perseverence that comes with educational success is enough to provide the basis for productive lives.
So maybe Góransson is right, and there is notable progress here when you can see the perspective of the longer view. I would be nice to think so.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Saturday, October 23
It is 1:00am and I am wide awake, just noodling around cleaning up some files on my computer and listening to country music on VOA shortwave. Country hits USA: “We laid rubber on a Georgia highway. Got a little crazy but we never got caught.” Lots of songs about “my Chevy” and faithless lovers.
I was so tired yesterday evening that I fell asleep before I finished eating dinner. But it felt good – I had spent most of the day on my bicycle. Rode to Mwanza early, to place a call to Myrna as soon as the internet cafes opened around 8:30am. Then decided to see if I could find the elusive path over the mountain from Mkyuni to Nyekato, after fortifying myself with a big whole-milk latte, African style, with two doughnuts at my favorite little cafe in Mkyuni.
The path was an interesting project. I had to ask directions frequently, as it led through a complex of footpaths high above Mwanza. Few houses, but the path skirted two primary schools full of noisy children. Nice scenery. Finally dropped down through a surprisingly upscale community to the bus station at Nyekato, where I drank in the bustle and noise of the shops and market, bought some peanuts and my second large bottle of water before biking back over the same route.
Then I decided to see if I could get to Mkolani by a back road and so avoid the big hill on the main highway. But the road went on forever through a long valley that seemed to veer off in the wrong direction, and there were no cross roads to try. The road got smaller, turned into a lane and finally to a narrow path. I gave up and was turning around when another bike rider came along and said that just ahead I would find a path to the right that would lead me to the “main road.” Sure enough, a few hundred yards beyond there was a very narrow and little-used path that led off through an unending maze of dry rice paddys. Eventually it joined a larger path, then a lane, a road, a bigger road still, and after another hour finally came to some houses and the town of Bohungwa on a real asphalt road where I could buy a Coke and take a break at a duka.
My consolation prize: I could take the back way home from Bohungwa past the Convent of the Poor Sisters of Clare (whose buildings certainly look far richer than anything else in the area) and so get back home without having to ride up that big hill I wanted to avoid in the first place. Success – just that it took a couple of extra hours.
So after after a shower and a stiff drink and falling asleep over dinner, I collapsed in bed about 8:00pm. and it felt delicious. And now I am awake and feel great, in the middle of the night. VOA has gone off the air by now, it is very quiet. Only insect noises. A good time to continue reading Kuki Gallmann’s book “I Dreamed of Africa.”
It is 1:00am and I am wide awake, just noodling around cleaning up some files on my computer and listening to country music on VOA shortwave. Country hits USA: “We laid rubber on a Georgia highway. Got a little crazy but we never got caught.” Lots of songs about “my Chevy” and faithless lovers.
I was so tired yesterday evening that I fell asleep before I finished eating dinner. But it felt good – I had spent most of the day on my bicycle. Rode to Mwanza early, to place a call to Myrna as soon as the internet cafes opened around 8:30am. Then decided to see if I could find the elusive path over the mountain from Mkyuni to Nyekato, after fortifying myself with a big whole-milk latte, African style, with two doughnuts at my favorite little cafe in Mkyuni.
The path was an interesting project. I had to ask directions frequently, as it led through a complex of footpaths high above Mwanza. Few houses, but the path skirted two primary schools full of noisy children. Nice scenery. Finally dropped down through a surprisingly upscale community to the bus station at Nyekato, where I drank in the bustle and noise of the shops and market, bought some peanuts and my second large bottle of water before biking back over the same route.
Then I decided to see if I could get to Mkolani by a back road and so avoid the big hill on the main highway. But the road went on forever through a long valley that seemed to veer off in the wrong direction, and there were no cross roads to try. The road got smaller, turned into a lane and finally to a narrow path. I gave up and was turning around when another bike rider came along and said that just ahead I would find a path to the right that would lead me to the “main road.” Sure enough, a few hundred yards beyond there was a very narrow and little-used path that led off through an unending maze of dry rice paddys. Eventually it joined a larger path, then a lane, a road, a bigger road still, and after another hour finally came to some houses and the town of Bohungwa on a real asphalt road where I could buy a Coke and take a break at a duka.
My consolation prize: I could take the back way home from Bohungwa past the Convent of the Poor Sisters of Clare (whose buildings certainly look far richer than anything else in the area) and so get back home without having to ride up that big hill I wanted to avoid in the first place. Success – just that it took a couple of extra hours.
So after after a shower and a stiff drink and falling asleep over dinner, I collapsed in bed about 8:00pm. and it felt delicious. And now I am awake and feel great, in the middle of the night. VOA has gone off the air by now, it is very quiet. Only insect noises. A good time to continue reading Kuki Gallmann’s book “I Dreamed of Africa.”
Friday, October 22, 2004
Wednesday, October 20
I got another issue of the New Yorker today, and the date on the cover is October 18. I am amazed that it sometimes comes so promptly. It almost makes up for the other issues that don’t arrive until they are a month and a half late – if they arrive at all.
This issue is fat – the spine labels it as The Political Issue. I have been soaking it up today. I have been trying to follow the latest election polls through Google, but nothing seems to change and the campaign is stuck at Dead Heat. The BBC gives the campaign a minute or so in its every-half-hour-news-summary, but that isn’t enough to quench my thirst.
Allegra is probably right that it is good that I am out of the country right now. But it is painful to feel so strongly about this coming election and to have to sit on the sidelines. If I was in Pennsylvania, and it does seem to be a swing state, I would certainly be working on some kind of Get Out The Vote or a Support Your Candidate effort. As it is, I’m planning to spend the night of Nov 2 downtown with Peter and his satellite TV, and hopefully a bunch of other Peace Corps Volunteers, charting red and blue states as the tallies are reported.
I was riding my bike toward town this afternoon and came across a huge traffic jam. I thought it must be a bad accident, but it turned out to be a Hindu parade. Groups of young men dancing, wearing fabulous orange headdresses trimmed with gold. Other groups of women in flowing, beautiful saris. The effect was elegant. Old men were riding two floats: one carried two female icons, smooth white skin and intelligent, beatific expressions on their painted faces wearing rich robes, the other carried a single female figure, but raised high on the float and she was protected from the sun by a man holding a huge umbrella over her. The floats were decorated to represent huge fish. Lots of police stopping traffic and more or less milling around. I’d never seen anything like this before, and it certainly is far outside anything I would expect to see in Mwanza or anywhere else I have been in Africa.
I talked to the men on one of the floats. They spoke excellent English, and many of them were from the US – Houston and New York and Chicago – or India. Seems that they are going to install these new icons in their Mwanza temple, and before that can happen the icons have to be taken through the town to become acquainted with their new home and to allow the town to greet them. So this was indeed a major event for them, and they had come from all over to participate in it. I learned this from Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, who gave me his card and said I could call him Shri.
If I can find the temple, I think I may try to learn a bit more. They all seemed to be friendly, and were clearly having a good time. To me it certainly looked a lot more appealing than either the strident self-righteous fire and brimstone Pentecostal or Muslim kiswahili offerings that are so predominant here.
I got another issue of the New Yorker today, and the date on the cover is October 18. I am amazed that it sometimes comes so promptly. It almost makes up for the other issues that don’t arrive until they are a month and a half late – if they arrive at all.
This issue is fat – the spine labels it as The Political Issue. I have been soaking it up today. I have been trying to follow the latest election polls through Google, but nothing seems to change and the campaign is stuck at Dead Heat. The BBC gives the campaign a minute or so in its every-half-hour-news-summary, but that isn’t enough to quench my thirst.
Allegra is probably right that it is good that I am out of the country right now. But it is painful to feel so strongly about this coming election and to have to sit on the sidelines. If I was in Pennsylvania, and it does seem to be a swing state, I would certainly be working on some kind of Get Out The Vote or a Support Your Candidate effort. As it is, I’m planning to spend the night of Nov 2 downtown with Peter and his satellite TV, and hopefully a bunch of other Peace Corps Volunteers, charting red and blue states as the tallies are reported.
I was riding my bike toward town this afternoon and came across a huge traffic jam. I thought it must be a bad accident, but it turned out to be a Hindu parade. Groups of young men dancing, wearing fabulous orange headdresses trimmed with gold. Other groups of women in flowing, beautiful saris. The effect was elegant. Old men were riding two floats: one carried two female icons, smooth white skin and intelligent, beatific expressions on their painted faces wearing rich robes, the other carried a single female figure, but raised high on the float and she was protected from the sun by a man holding a huge umbrella over her. The floats were decorated to represent huge fish. Lots of police stopping traffic and more or less milling around. I’d never seen anything like this before, and it certainly is far outside anything I would expect to see in Mwanza or anywhere else I have been in Africa.
I talked to the men on one of the floats. They spoke excellent English, and many of them were from the US – Houston and New York and Chicago – or India. Seems that they are going to install these new icons in their Mwanza temple, and before that can happen the icons have to be taken through the town to become acquainted with their new home and to allow the town to greet them. So this was indeed a major event for them, and they had come from all over to participate in it. I learned this from Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, who gave me his card and said I could call him Shri.
If I can find the temple, I think I may try to learn a bit more. They all seemed to be friendly, and were clearly having a good time. To me it certainly looked a lot more appealing than either the strident self-righteous fire and brimstone Pentecostal or Muslim kiswahili offerings that are so predominant here.
Monday, October 18, 2004
October 18, Sunday
With Thursday (Nyerere Day, a National Holiday) and Friday (I don’t teach on Fridays) free, this has been a delightful, long weekend. So Ryan, Kathleen and I took the opportunity to go to Butiama, home of Julius Nyerere where there is now a National Museum in his honor as the first President and the Founder of Tanzanian Independence.
For this expedition we took a northbound Bunda Bus headed for Musoma to the intersection where a dirt road leads back to Butiama. We thought the dirt road would was about 8 km long, a reasonable hike if there was no daladala. But the sign there informed us that the road was 18 km – a bit more daunting.
Still, we began walking and after about fifteen minutes we were able to flag down a passing Tanesco electric company truck and climb on the back along with a dozen or so Tanesco workers. It was a great ride, hanging onto the ladder and looking at the countryside as we bounced and rocked along, wind blowing in our faces. We managed to speak a few words with the workers – where are you from, where are you going, what is your name, where is the Museum.
They left us off about 2 km short of the town – I think they were not anxious to be seen giving us the ride. We had a little trouble finding the museum – it is a short distance off on a side road and and then a short distance off that road, and not well marked at all. We did find it, finally. It consisted of one large, round room full of pictures of Nyerere from his boyhood through his retirement, some of his uniforms, some history of the Zenaki tribe that he belonged to and tribal artifacts. Lots of certificates and gifts given to him in celebration of his leadership in the war with Idi Amin’s Uganda in the late 80s. Interesting, sort of, but nothing to get too excited about.
There were pictures of Nyerere with several popes, world leaders, Jimmy Carter. We thought there might be a picture of him with JFKennedy since JFK was a strong supporter and friend of Nyerere, but no sign of him.
We had hoped that since October 14 was Nyerere Day, there might be some special events or exhibits going on. No such thing. There was just one other visitor during the two hours that we were there, a Tanzanian school teacher. Our guide showed all of us around the room, and basically read the titles of the plaques to us as we read them ourselves.
Nyerere’s home is very near the museum, and the grounds contain his mausoleum as well as the graves of his parents. There were lots of artificial bouquets and flowers at his mausoleum. His house looks very attractive – European and modern. But it is not open to the public.
And that was that.
We had a soda, fries and watermelon at a little cafe, then began to hoof it back along the dirt road. We walked for a couple of hours before a daladala happened along to pick us up to take us to the main road. Lots of time to tell stories about our past histories, share war stories about our teaching experiences, and enjoy the beautiful empty vistas. Homes along the road were the typical round wattle and mud construction with thatch roofs for the most part, occasionally fired brick buildings with corrugated metal roofs.
At the main road we flagged down another Bunda Bus after about half an hour, and it brought us back home without incident. It was a good break – good to get out of Dodge City again for a change.
With Thursday (Nyerere Day, a National Holiday) and Friday (I don’t teach on Fridays) free, this has been a delightful, long weekend. So Ryan, Kathleen and I took the opportunity to go to Butiama, home of Julius Nyerere where there is now a National Museum in his honor as the first President and the Founder of Tanzanian Independence.
For this expedition we took a northbound Bunda Bus headed for Musoma to the intersection where a dirt road leads back to Butiama. We thought the dirt road would was about 8 km long, a reasonable hike if there was no daladala. But the sign there informed us that the road was 18 km – a bit more daunting.
Still, we began walking and after about fifteen minutes we were able to flag down a passing Tanesco electric company truck and climb on the back along with a dozen or so Tanesco workers. It was a great ride, hanging onto the ladder and looking at the countryside as we bounced and rocked along, wind blowing in our faces. We managed to speak a few words with the workers – where are you from, where are you going, what is your name, where is the Museum.
They left us off about 2 km short of the town – I think they were not anxious to be seen giving us the ride. We had a little trouble finding the museum – it is a short distance off on a side road and and then a short distance off that road, and not well marked at all. We did find it, finally. It consisted of one large, round room full of pictures of Nyerere from his boyhood through his retirement, some of his uniforms, some history of the Zenaki tribe that he belonged to and tribal artifacts. Lots of certificates and gifts given to him in celebration of his leadership in the war with Idi Amin’s Uganda in the late 80s. Interesting, sort of, but nothing to get too excited about.
There were pictures of Nyerere with several popes, world leaders, Jimmy Carter. We thought there might be a picture of him with JFKennedy since JFK was a strong supporter and friend of Nyerere, but no sign of him.
We had hoped that since October 14 was Nyerere Day, there might be some special events or exhibits going on. No such thing. There was just one other visitor during the two hours that we were there, a Tanzanian school teacher. Our guide showed all of us around the room, and basically read the titles of the plaques to us as we read them ourselves.
Nyerere’s home is very near the museum, and the grounds contain his mausoleum as well as the graves of his parents. There were lots of artificial bouquets and flowers at his mausoleum. His house looks very attractive – European and modern. But it is not open to the public.
And that was that.
We had a soda, fries and watermelon at a little cafe, then began to hoof it back along the dirt road. We walked for a couple of hours before a daladala happened along to pick us up to take us to the main road. Lots of time to tell stories about our past histories, share war stories about our teaching experiences, and enjoy the beautiful empty vistas. Homes along the road were the typical round wattle and mud construction with thatch roofs for the most part, occasionally fired brick buildings with corrugated metal roofs.
At the main road we flagged down another Bunda Bus after about half an hour, and it brought us back home without incident. It was a good break – good to get out of Dodge City again for a change.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Thursday, Oct 14
No class today, it is Nyerere Day to celebrate the man who peacefully gained Tanzanian independence from Britain. And I don’t teach tomorrow, so I have a long weekend – and nothing special to do. I may go explore on my bicycle again, but I don’t have the sense any more that I am likely to discover new things.
Last night was the third Presidential Debate. I arranged with Peter to watch it at his place – he lives in a large house downtown that is the Mwanza center for an Australian mining company. This is where a whole crowd of us watched the first debate, but for that there were a lot of PC Volunteers in town for our HIV/AIDS conference. In their absence and with the number of PCVs who have left Mwanza, there aren’t many of us left. I thought Joanie might come but she didn’t, and so I watched the debate alone. Less fun that way, but I am glad I saw it, live.
Don’t know if anybody won, I have to subtract my bias from my judgment. But I do feel sure that at the least, Kerry did not lose.
I’m taking my classes into the laboratory to do titrations, now. After putting it off for so long, it really isn’t so bad after all. But they have little idea of what we are really doing. I went over the calculations and the process in several successive classes. But still, when I ask them very basic questions, I get nothing but blank stares. Some of them, the serious ones, do seem to find the answers, though – apparently by looking at past exams and memorizing what figures to put where.
I guess I am really getting down on Africa. Coming here was the idea of the Peace Corps, not me – I tried as hard as I could to get to South or Central America. My prejudice was that Africa is a hopeless basket case. And now that I have been here for a year, I would argue that Africa is, yes, basically a hopeless basket case. For the past forty years, the Southeast Asian countries have emphasized technology and education, and there are many strong, vibrant economies there. Meanwhile, Africa has had the attitude that since they were subjugated by the Western Nations they are now the responsibility of those nations, and so their appeal is Give Us Money. But that doesn’t lead anywhere – except to an ingrained dependency culture.
So many problems – but no vision on how to attack the problems, or to set priorities. And the help DOES come, from NGOs and foreign governments and the UN, but as handouts. There is no central coordination of efforts, and sooner or later the handout stops and the project ends. So these efforts and donations are like the rain: When the rain comes, we eat. When it does not come, we tighten our belts. There is nothing we can do about it. It is all God Willing. So, Rich Nations, give us money.
Well, maybe I will be able to get a small business course going for high school seniors. And maybe that will make some tiny difference to both enhance development and reduce dependency. I don’t know, but I think it is so essential to at least try. We will see.
ALTHOUGH.... I AM making a measurable impact here, no doubt about it! I’ve been using Pat’s idea: When the little kids set up their Mzungu Mzungu Mzunguuuu chant as soon as they see me, I point at them and mimic their chant and tone with Mafrica Mafrica Mafricaaa (Africans!!). Yesterday, when I rode my bike to town, only HALF the kids went into the Mzunguu chant. The others started gleefully calling MzunguMafrica MzunguMafrica MzunguMafrica.
Perhaps culture is malleable after all.
No class today, it is Nyerere Day to celebrate the man who peacefully gained Tanzanian independence from Britain. And I don’t teach tomorrow, so I have a long weekend – and nothing special to do. I may go explore on my bicycle again, but I don’t have the sense any more that I am likely to discover new things.
Last night was the third Presidential Debate. I arranged with Peter to watch it at his place – he lives in a large house downtown that is the Mwanza center for an Australian mining company. This is where a whole crowd of us watched the first debate, but for that there were a lot of PC Volunteers in town for our HIV/AIDS conference. In their absence and with the number of PCVs who have left Mwanza, there aren’t many of us left. I thought Joanie might come but she didn’t, and so I watched the debate alone. Less fun that way, but I am glad I saw it, live.
Don’t know if anybody won, I have to subtract my bias from my judgment. But I do feel sure that at the least, Kerry did not lose.
I’m taking my classes into the laboratory to do titrations, now. After putting it off for so long, it really isn’t so bad after all. But they have little idea of what we are really doing. I went over the calculations and the process in several successive classes. But still, when I ask them very basic questions, I get nothing but blank stares. Some of them, the serious ones, do seem to find the answers, though – apparently by looking at past exams and memorizing what figures to put where.
I guess I am really getting down on Africa. Coming here was the idea of the Peace Corps, not me – I tried as hard as I could to get to South or Central America. My prejudice was that Africa is a hopeless basket case. And now that I have been here for a year, I would argue that Africa is, yes, basically a hopeless basket case. For the past forty years, the Southeast Asian countries have emphasized technology and education, and there are many strong, vibrant economies there. Meanwhile, Africa has had the attitude that since they were subjugated by the Western Nations they are now the responsibility of those nations, and so their appeal is Give Us Money. But that doesn’t lead anywhere – except to an ingrained dependency culture.
So many problems – but no vision on how to attack the problems, or to set priorities. And the help DOES come, from NGOs and foreign governments and the UN, but as handouts. There is no central coordination of efforts, and sooner or later the handout stops and the project ends. So these efforts and donations are like the rain: When the rain comes, we eat. When it does not come, we tighten our belts. There is nothing we can do about it. It is all God Willing. So, Rich Nations, give us money.
Well, maybe I will be able to get a small business course going for high school seniors. And maybe that will make some tiny difference to both enhance development and reduce dependency. I don’t know, but I think it is so essential to at least try. We will see.
ALTHOUGH.... I AM making a measurable impact here, no doubt about it! I’ve been using Pat’s idea: When the little kids set up their Mzungu Mzungu Mzunguuuu chant as soon as they see me, I point at them and mimic their chant and tone with Mafrica Mafrica Mafricaaa (Africans!!). Yesterday, when I rode my bike to town, only HALF the kids went into the Mzunguu chant. The others started gleefully calling MzunguMafrica MzunguMafrica MzunguMafrica.
Perhaps culture is malleable after all.
Friday, Oct 15
A glimmer of hope for the future of Africa? I heard Tony Blair discuss the goals he has set for his Commission on Africa on the BBC. It seems to recognize the complexity of the problems and seeks to establish a prioritized and coordinated long term attack on the problems, funded by Western nations and designed by the donor nations together with African nations. In so doing, it hopes to overcome the usual mutually destructive donor-recipient relationship.
If anything has a chance for success, this would seem to be it. Certainly the United Nations 2015 Millenium Goals program is simply a joke.
A glimmer of hope for the future of Africa? I heard Tony Blair discuss the goals he has set for his Commission on Africa on the BBC. It seems to recognize the complexity of the problems and seeks to establish a prioritized and coordinated long term attack on the problems, funded by Western nations and designed by the donor nations together with African nations. In so doing, it hopes to overcome the usual mutually destructive donor-recipient relationship.
If anything has a chance for success, this would seem to be it. Certainly the United Nations 2015 Millenium Goals program is simply a joke.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Sunday, October 10
My niece, Shari Benites, is a high school teacher in Arlington VA. She and the other teachers in her school got together to send 40 Chemistry Textbooks. What a difference those chemistry textbooks are making! I got them just before I had to attend an HIV/AIDS conference for a week. So I doled them out to the best students in all my classes and put eight in the library, then gave the classes a reading and problem assignment on material we had just covered in class, to do while I was gone. And I told them I would give them a quiz as soon as I returned.
That I actually GAVE them a quiz on my first day back absolutely SHOCKED them. There weren’t enough books. The books were too hard. There hadn’t been enough time. They couldn’t understand the books. They needed an introduction to the material first. Sob, sob, sob – the floor was getting all wet and I had to pull up my pantlegs!
I began reading the assigned section from the book, asking after every sentence “Did you understand that? Was that English too difficult for you?” Of course the sentences were beautifully written, in clear conversational English.
The three to six students in every class that actually had read their books solved all the problems in five minutes, correctly. NONE of the rest had any idea how to even start answering the problems.
Since then, the books are getting heavy use. Students are coming up to me and asking me how to solve problems that I didn’t assign from the books. I love it! And those books present INTERESTING chemistry – pollution, agriculture, waste disposal, energy options - stuff that makes sense to students. What a change from the desiccated elitist Tanzanian syllabus, designed by the British 50 years ago!
Unfortunately, I still have to teach to the Tanzanian syllabus as that is what their all-important National Examinations will require of them. But I can do that by picking and choosing in the textbooks, and the students can explore the other topics on their own.
My niece, Shari Benites, is a high school teacher in Arlington VA. She and the other teachers in her school got together to send 40 Chemistry Textbooks. What a difference those chemistry textbooks are making! I got them just before I had to attend an HIV/AIDS conference for a week. So I doled them out to the best students in all my classes and put eight in the library, then gave the classes a reading and problem assignment on material we had just covered in class, to do while I was gone. And I told them I would give them a quiz as soon as I returned.
That I actually GAVE them a quiz on my first day back absolutely SHOCKED them. There weren’t enough books. The books were too hard. There hadn’t been enough time. They couldn’t understand the books. They needed an introduction to the material first. Sob, sob, sob – the floor was getting all wet and I had to pull up my pantlegs!
I began reading the assigned section from the book, asking after every sentence “Did you understand that? Was that English too difficult for you?” Of course the sentences were beautifully written, in clear conversational English.
The three to six students in every class that actually had read their books solved all the problems in five minutes, correctly. NONE of the rest had any idea how to even start answering the problems.
Since then, the books are getting heavy use. Students are coming up to me and asking me how to solve problems that I didn’t assign from the books. I love it! And those books present INTERESTING chemistry – pollution, agriculture, waste disposal, energy options - stuff that makes sense to students. What a change from the desiccated elitist Tanzanian syllabus, designed by the British 50 years ago!
Unfortunately, I still have to teach to the Tanzanian syllabus as that is what their all-important National Examinations will require of them. But I can do that by picking and choosing in the textbooks, and the students can explore the other topics on their own.
Friday, Oct 8
Yesterday was a day that made up for my several weeks of despondency because nothing seemed to be happening. First, I got a letter from Esther in Mwanga. Remember that my sister misaddressed two letters to me – sent them to Mwanga instead of Mwanza. “Ester” got them and tracked me down with a lot of effort. I sent her a self-addressed envelope with stamps and stuff so she could send Arlene’s letters to me. But they never arrived anyway. A week or so ago she called to ask me if I had gotten them, and I said no. So yesterday I received this letter, registered, typed in blue ink:
P.O. Box 281 – T.C.C.I.A.
MWANGA, KILIMANJARO
28th SEPT. 2004
Dear Lee,
I know you don’t want to hear from me again. I apologise to what happened, I ask you to be kind and consider the situation. This is out of my power.
God knows how effort I made. And this is so strange to me, why those letters lost for the second time: May be it was because the mail was heavy and the postal people thought that there is money in it, that is why they steel it. I didn’t sleep for those past two weeks. I know you cannot trust me again, but I have nothing more to make you believe me.
Any way, still I have a copy of a letter which I wrote to you with Arlene’s address which she wrote in front of the envelope (the lost letters).
[Arlene’s address]
P/se write to her and tell her the whole story, may be she can write again what was supposed to be in that lost letters (two letters).
I now regret, why I tried to find you, because what I expected is not what I get. I lost all: your letters, my letter (which I enclosed in that envelope) and also I lost you. You cannot trust me any more. My office mate laugh at me, they say: Why do you bother to find that guy and now see what you received?. But I believe in God that: I quote; Always love all the people like you love yourself”. This sentence forced me to locate you.
I like to invite you to my home.(with your wife if any) I need to know you. I live in my own house, don’t worry of any thing. I’m a business woman (dealing with Mining – Gemstones). A mother ( but not married in my life). Just come as mother and son or sister and brother / a friend.
My area where I live is not far from Moshi Town. If you accept my Invitation, Please! inform me so we can arrange how to recognise each other.
Lee dear, this is the best way to have a good records, what you had done when you are in Africa / Tanzania .To meet and to make more friends with different people, place, tribes, culture etc.
T.C.C.I.A above means: Tanzania Chamber of Commerce, Industry and Agriculture. I think you heard it in Televisions, Magazines etc. Also Mwanza had such Chambers. All Tanzania Regions and Districts had T.C.C.I.A chamber offices. Dar- Es- Salaam is our T.C.C.I.A Head quarters. In Mwange T.C.C.I.A, I work as a Treasurer of the chamber.
Again I apologise for any inconvenience I coursed you.
Please ! Lee, I beg you to reply to me, to assure me that you forgive me.
Yours, Anxious to hear from you,
Esther Y. Madio.
[end of letter]
I guess I will have to reassure the lady that I appreciate her efforts and do not blame her for the shortcomings of the Tanzania PO.
Then I rode my bike downtown to do some errands, and made a followup call to see if I could arrange an appointment to talk with the Director of VETA – the head of the government Vocational Education and Training Authority, Lake Region. The answer was “Yes, if you come right away.” So I hopped on a daladala for the 10 km trip to VETA. I found a sizeable campus with offices, dormitories and large separate buildings for teaching plumbing, electrical work, carpentry, masonry, plumbing, and hotel management. It is quite an operation, and this is only one of several regional facilities. Students enter after completing middle school or high school to learn a trade.
I was ushered into the office of Enock Kibendela, a large, impressive man who carries his authority comfortably and easily. He listened attentively to my presentation of the vision and plans I have been developing to teach entrepreneurship (economic empowerment) to students and school leavers. Then he brought in his Labour Market Analyst, A. J. Ngonyani, and we talked for about an hour and a half.
It seems that VETA has a mandate to teach entrepreneurship as part of its program, but it has never worked well because they have no teachers who understand the concept. Not a surprise! Still, the Government is working to develop a new program and so there is a high degree of interest right now.
But the Gov’t will take a long time to form the curriculum committees, study the problem, report to oversight committees, “harmonize” the conclusions, etc etc. So, if there is an existing program that can be implemented on a pilot basis, Kibendela is very interested in giving it a go – “What do we do next?”
Wow! Is this really still Tanzania?
My next stop was to drop in on Ralph Hoeninger, head of the regional office of the Dutch NGO: SNV. SNV offers its intellectual services (but no money) to good causes to assist organizational and development efforts. I talked to him about how to set up the program in such a way that I am not the center of it, and how to provide the best chance of its continuing after I leave in a year (sustainability). He had good ideas: Work with a steering committee that I am not the head of even if that sounds painful, be sure to have TWO teachers for every class in case one drops out/is transferred/whatever, have a Tanzanian with you for all meetings, and occasionally be unavailable at the last minute.
He downloaded my information about teaching marketing to fish farmers in Zambia, and in return he is giving me a copy of a CD directory of economic development programs.
Then back to town for those errands I wanted to do and to the internet café to continue the dialog with Myrna about her trip to Africa that now seems like less than a sure thing.
Biked back home. Took a shower. Then grabbed a daladala back to Mwanza to meet Eric Ibrahim, a friend of my cousins back in Pennsylvania who had invited me to dinner at his home. Eric is an architect, but works for the UN Development Agency on a program to identify ways to increase jobs in Tanzania or something like that. He lives in a nice home with his wife and three kids, and dreams of going out on his own as an architect. We had a good meal – Nile perch and chicken, rice and spaghetti, with a cabbage and pineapple salad, then talked until 1:00 in the morning. Vivian dropped in and out of the room and the conversation, but I think she had heard most of our opinions before, and didn’t need it again. But for me it was interesting to share cultural differences and perceptions. We talked a lot about the problems for economic development in Tanzania, and agreed that the socialist history of the country is a mind-set that will only be overcome slowly.
But last night was also the 2nd presidential debate. So I slept across with Eric and Vivian in a bedroom that probably belongs to one of their kids although you wouldn’t know it because it lacked toys on the floor and posters on the walls. They rolled their TV into the bedroom for me, so I had the luxury (pain?) of watching the debate live on CNN at 4:00 in the morning.
I didn’t think anybody “won” this one, and that seems to the initial assessment I hear from the BBC on shortwave radio today too.
Yesterday was a day that made up for my several weeks of despondency because nothing seemed to be happening. First, I got a letter from Esther in Mwanga. Remember that my sister misaddressed two letters to me – sent them to Mwanga instead of Mwanza. “Ester” got them and tracked me down with a lot of effort. I sent her a self-addressed envelope with stamps and stuff so she could send Arlene’s letters to me. But they never arrived anyway. A week or so ago she called to ask me if I had gotten them, and I said no. So yesterday I received this letter, registered, typed in blue ink:
P.O. Box 281 – T.C.C.I.A.
MWANGA, KILIMANJARO
28th SEPT. 2004
Dear Lee,
I know you don’t want to hear from me again. I apologise to what happened, I ask you to be kind and consider the situation. This is out of my power.
God knows how effort I made. And this is so strange to me, why those letters lost for the second time: May be it was because the mail was heavy and the postal people thought that there is money in it, that is why they steel it. I didn’t sleep for those past two weeks. I know you cannot trust me again, but I have nothing more to make you believe me.
Any way, still I have a copy of a letter which I wrote to you with Arlene’s address which she wrote in front of the envelope (the lost letters).
[Arlene’s address]
P/se write to her and tell her the whole story, may be she can write again what was supposed to be in that lost letters (two letters).
I now regret, why I tried to find you, because what I expected is not what I get. I lost all: your letters, my letter (which I enclosed in that envelope) and also I lost you. You cannot trust me any more. My office mate laugh at me, they say: Why do you bother to find that guy and now see what you received?. But I believe in God that: I quote; Always love all the people like you love yourself”. This sentence forced me to locate you.
I like to invite you to my home.(with your wife if any) I need to know you. I live in my own house, don’t worry of any thing. I’m a business woman (dealing with Mining – Gemstones). A mother ( but not married in my life). Just come as mother and son or sister and brother / a friend.
My area where I live is not far from Moshi Town. If you accept my Invitation, Please! inform me so we can arrange how to recognise each other.
Lee dear, this is the best way to have a good records, what you had done when you are in Africa / Tanzania .To meet and to make more friends with different people, place, tribes, culture etc.
T.C.C.I.A above means: Tanzania Chamber of Commerce, Industry and Agriculture. I think you heard it in Televisions, Magazines etc. Also Mwanza had such Chambers. All Tanzania Regions and Districts had T.C.C.I.A chamber offices. Dar- Es- Salaam is our T.C.C.I.A Head quarters. In Mwange T.C.C.I.A, I work as a Treasurer of the chamber.
Again I apologise for any inconvenience I coursed you.
Please ! Lee, I beg you to reply to me, to assure me that you forgive me.
Yours, Anxious to hear from you,
Esther Y. Madio.
[end of letter]
I guess I will have to reassure the lady that I appreciate her efforts and do not blame her for the shortcomings of the Tanzania PO.
Then I rode my bike downtown to do some errands, and made a followup call to see if I could arrange an appointment to talk with the Director of VETA – the head of the government Vocational Education and Training Authority, Lake Region. The answer was “Yes, if you come right away.” So I hopped on a daladala for the 10 km trip to VETA. I found a sizeable campus with offices, dormitories and large separate buildings for teaching plumbing, electrical work, carpentry, masonry, plumbing, and hotel management. It is quite an operation, and this is only one of several regional facilities. Students enter after completing middle school or high school to learn a trade.
I was ushered into the office of Enock Kibendela, a large, impressive man who carries his authority comfortably and easily. He listened attentively to my presentation of the vision and plans I have been developing to teach entrepreneurship (economic empowerment) to students and school leavers. Then he brought in his Labour Market Analyst, A. J. Ngonyani, and we talked for about an hour and a half.
It seems that VETA has a mandate to teach entrepreneurship as part of its program, but it has never worked well because they have no teachers who understand the concept. Not a surprise! Still, the Government is working to develop a new program and so there is a high degree of interest right now.
But the Gov’t will take a long time to form the curriculum committees, study the problem, report to oversight committees, “harmonize” the conclusions, etc etc. So, if there is an existing program that can be implemented on a pilot basis, Kibendela is very interested in giving it a go – “What do we do next?”
Wow! Is this really still Tanzania?
My next stop was to drop in on Ralph Hoeninger, head of the regional office of the Dutch NGO: SNV. SNV offers its intellectual services (but no money) to good causes to assist organizational and development efforts. I talked to him about how to set up the program in such a way that I am not the center of it, and how to provide the best chance of its continuing after I leave in a year (sustainability). He had good ideas: Work with a steering committee that I am not the head of even if that sounds painful, be sure to have TWO teachers for every class in case one drops out/is transferred/whatever, have a Tanzanian with you for all meetings, and occasionally be unavailable at the last minute.
He downloaded my information about teaching marketing to fish farmers in Zambia, and in return he is giving me a copy of a CD directory of economic development programs.
Then back to town for those errands I wanted to do and to the internet café to continue the dialog with Myrna about her trip to Africa that now seems like less than a sure thing.
Biked back home. Took a shower. Then grabbed a daladala back to Mwanza to meet Eric Ibrahim, a friend of my cousins back in Pennsylvania who had invited me to dinner at his home. Eric is an architect, but works for the UN Development Agency on a program to identify ways to increase jobs in Tanzania or something like that. He lives in a nice home with his wife and three kids, and dreams of going out on his own as an architect. We had a good meal – Nile perch and chicken, rice and spaghetti, with a cabbage and pineapple salad, then talked until 1:00 in the morning. Vivian dropped in and out of the room and the conversation, but I think she had heard most of our opinions before, and didn’t need it again. But for me it was interesting to share cultural differences and perceptions. We talked a lot about the problems for economic development in Tanzania, and agreed that the socialist history of the country is a mind-set that will only be overcome slowly.
But last night was also the 2nd presidential debate. So I slept across with Eric and Vivian in a bedroom that probably belongs to one of their kids although you wouldn’t know it because it lacked toys on the floor and posters on the walls. They rolled their TV into the bedroom for me, so I had the luxury (pain?) of watching the debate live on CNN at 4:00 in the morning.
I didn’t think anybody “won” this one, and that seems to the initial assessment I hear from the BBC on shortwave radio today too.
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Saturday, October 2, 2004
This past week has been an interlude. No teaching. The Peace Corps pulled all of us from the Lake Region together at St. Augustine University for a weeklong conference on HIV/AIDS. Each of us – Sarah from Musoma, Kathleen from Bunda, Steve from Buswelu, Kim from Kinyago, Joe, Janna and Jessica from Bukoba, Jim from Sengida, Ryan from Ngonza and me. Becky led one of the programs, and Joan was there also, off and on, to assist. We were all to bring a Tanzanian “counterpart” with us, so that we could share the program, and hopefully plan some programs together on our return to our sites.
The meeting was led by Justine, imported into the country to lead a series of these programs. Overall, it was great to see our group of volunteers again. Some of the sessions were interesting, and many were boring. There was heavy pressure for us to hold meetings at our sites, start health clubs, teach about HIV/AIDS. I felt marginalized and uncooperative, because I am so focused on economic empowerment and expect to leave these classic HIV/AIDS efforts to others.
Our Country Director was with us for a day and a half to see how things are going. I pressed her to learn how I could influence the Peace Corps, both in Tanzania and in Washington, to encourage efforts for economic empowerment as a way to reduce HIV/AIDS and overcome poverty. Basically, I got no help or support at all. She said I could write a memo, but it should not be long, and programs are planned long in advance. I know am not the only one feeling a lack of support from her, but boy....
I did have a chance to publicize my efforts to encourage my students to be proud and to take responsibility for their lives, and several of the Tanzanians were very interested in this. Some wanted copies of the phrase that I use to open every class of mine, that we say in unison:
I am a proud Tanzanian
And my country is rich with opportunity.
My life now is exactly how I have created it.
With planning, with knowledge, with hard workAnd care for my health,
I can and will create the life that I choose.
In one session we broke into small mixed-culture groups to talk about how sex instruction occurs and is practiced in our societies. It confirmed again that sexually, this is a highly repressed society. Once married, Tanzanian couples must never show affection for each other in public. Any hint of sex – hugging, kissing the cheek, holding hands, touching – can only be done in the bedroom with the door closed and locked, whether there are children or others in the house or not. One group member reported that a friend who had studied in “The West” was ostracized when he hugged his Mother at the airport upon his return to Tanzania. If there are children in the house, the man will leave the bedroom to be sure they are asleep before a couple will initiate anything sexual. Of course men and women can never be alone together.
At the age of seven, children are banished from the house to live and sleep with other relatives or, more likely, in a special small hut built outside the parent’s house if they live in a village. A parent will never discuss sex or sexuality with his/her/their children. When they feel the time is appropriate they may ask an uncle or aunt to talk to their children. If their married children are having difficulties together, they will certainly not discuss it with them, but they may convene a meeting of close relatives to meet with the couple and counsel them. Likewise, if a son who is recognized as an adult is misbehaving or engaging in antisocial activities, their parents will not talk to him about it but will convene a meeting of close relatives to meet with him. In this way, his comments and the condemnation of his actions comes from the whole community and are common knowledge, not held secretly within a “nuclear family” structure.
As can be imagined, Tanzanians have difficulty understanding that Peace Corps members of the opposite sex can visit each other freely and even sleep in each other’s houses without having intercourse.
With all this talk of sex ..... ..... ..... I miss Myrna!
This week was the first Presidential Debate. With the time change, it began at 4:00am here. We made good use of our contact with Pete, a Scotsman and expat who lives in a huge house here in Mwanza. He is an accountant and general gofer for a gold mining company, and has lots of spare beds in his house for visiting geologists, friends, and occasional Peace Corps invasions. In addition, he has satellite TV, direct internet connections, and a well-stocked kitchen. So we brought beer and camped out there. Most of us, including me, slept until shortly before the debate, but a few stayed up all night to enjoy the rare pleasure of watching movies on satellite TV. I’m so glad we got to see and share the debate. I did not want to have to rely on the spin doctors and the BBC to hear what happened. And it sure was much more fun to watch the debate in room full of interested people.
This past week has been an interlude. No teaching. The Peace Corps pulled all of us from the Lake Region together at St. Augustine University for a weeklong conference on HIV/AIDS. Each of us – Sarah from Musoma, Kathleen from Bunda, Steve from Buswelu, Kim from Kinyago, Joe, Janna and Jessica from Bukoba, Jim from Sengida, Ryan from Ngonza and me. Becky led one of the programs, and Joan was there also, off and on, to assist. We were all to bring a Tanzanian “counterpart” with us, so that we could share the program, and hopefully plan some programs together on our return to our sites.
The meeting was led by Justine, imported into the country to lead a series of these programs. Overall, it was great to see our group of volunteers again. Some of the sessions were interesting, and many were boring. There was heavy pressure for us to hold meetings at our sites, start health clubs, teach about HIV/AIDS. I felt marginalized and uncooperative, because I am so focused on economic empowerment and expect to leave these classic HIV/AIDS efforts to others.
Our Country Director was with us for a day and a half to see how things are going. I pressed her to learn how I could influence the Peace Corps, both in Tanzania and in Washington, to encourage efforts for economic empowerment as a way to reduce HIV/AIDS and overcome poverty. Basically, I got no help or support at all. She said I could write a memo, but it should not be long, and programs are planned long in advance. I know am not the only one feeling a lack of support from her, but boy....
I did have a chance to publicize my efforts to encourage my students to be proud and to take responsibility for their lives, and several of the Tanzanians were very interested in this. Some wanted copies of the phrase that I use to open every class of mine, that we say in unison:
I am a proud Tanzanian
And my country is rich with opportunity.
My life now is exactly how I have created it.
With planning, with knowledge, with hard workAnd care for my health,
I can and will create the life that I choose.
In one session we broke into small mixed-culture groups to talk about how sex instruction occurs and is practiced in our societies. It confirmed again that sexually, this is a highly repressed society. Once married, Tanzanian couples must never show affection for each other in public. Any hint of sex – hugging, kissing the cheek, holding hands, touching – can only be done in the bedroom with the door closed and locked, whether there are children or others in the house or not. One group member reported that a friend who had studied in “The West” was ostracized when he hugged his Mother at the airport upon his return to Tanzania. If there are children in the house, the man will leave the bedroom to be sure they are asleep before a couple will initiate anything sexual. Of course men and women can never be alone together.
At the age of seven, children are banished from the house to live and sleep with other relatives or, more likely, in a special small hut built outside the parent’s house if they live in a village. A parent will never discuss sex or sexuality with his/her/their children. When they feel the time is appropriate they may ask an uncle or aunt to talk to their children. If their married children are having difficulties together, they will certainly not discuss it with them, but they may convene a meeting of close relatives to meet with the couple and counsel them. Likewise, if a son who is recognized as an adult is misbehaving or engaging in antisocial activities, their parents will not talk to him about it but will convene a meeting of close relatives to meet with him. In this way, his comments and the condemnation of his actions comes from the whole community and are common knowledge, not held secretly within a “nuclear family” structure.
As can be imagined, Tanzanians have difficulty understanding that Peace Corps members of the opposite sex can visit each other freely and even sleep in each other’s houses without having intercourse.
With all this talk of sex ..... ..... ..... I miss Myrna!
This week was the first Presidential Debate. With the time change, it began at 4:00am here. We made good use of our contact with Pete, a Scotsman and expat who lives in a huge house here in Mwanza. He is an accountant and general gofer for a gold mining company, and has lots of spare beds in his house for visiting geologists, friends, and occasional Peace Corps invasions. In addition, he has satellite TV, direct internet connections, and a well-stocked kitchen. So we brought beer and camped out there. Most of us, including me, slept until shortly before the debate, but a few stayed up all night to enjoy the rare pleasure of watching movies on satellite TV. I’m so glad we got to see and share the debate. I did not want to have to rely on the spin doctors and the BBC to hear what happened. And it sure was much more fun to watch the debate in room full of interested people.
