AMDG Monthly Report: April

An Apology

We apologise to everybody (except Martin in Mwanza, Tanzania ) for the length that this report will be. April was a busy month that has left us with many things to write about. Feel free to skim read, skip large sections or just delete it from your inbox (no, not you Martin - you need to know what we go through every month).

Palm Sunday

The Palm Sunday celebrations made April a very good month from the start. There was a part of us (or maybe just for Dermot) that was worried about the upcoming Easter week preparations and the inevitable amount of time we were to spend in church. Masses here tend to be much longer, the whole mass has much more of a celebratory feel; helped largely by the amount of excellent choirs. A normal Sunday mass, for example, is about two hours long and, unless you are there at least an hour before hand, you will spend that time standing at the back of a packed church. This can sometimes not be too enjoyable, especially as it is both hot and in a language we are not fluent in. So when it came to Palm Sunday, one of the biggest masses of the year, we were preparing for at least a few hours of discomfort. How wrong we were proved to be. The main mass started with a procession from the Youth Centre: the place where we teach English to adults. It was here that the palms were blessed and half of Dodoma seemed to be, too. The number of people there was the first thing to hit us. There were hundreds. There was an atmosphere of celebration as well. From what I have experienced of masses in England , people go to pray in a reverent fashion and then go about the rest of their Sunday business. Here the mass is the main focal point of the day, a chance where they can meet friends, family and fellow workers but most of all a chance to rejoice and sing to God. So, at the Youth Centre, about four hundred metres away from the church, people had come to sing and dance for God.

The other thing was the palms. From our parishes in England we are given a part of a palm leaf as we enter the parish. Here people have to prepare their own and they do not just come with one, finger like stick of a palm leaf; they come with what looks like half the tree. But that too is not enough. The leaf is then weaved and knotted into all manner of shapes so that in the end many people look like they have brought half their living room carpet with them.

Upon arriving everybody was jockeying for position on the basketball court where the Palms were due to be blessed. We were stood just off the court, slightly below where the main action was taking place. This meant that, apart from the front row of people, all we could really see was the forest of palms that people held waving above their heads. Then came the fun part as the priests tried to find a way through the crowd and soaking as many people in holy water as possible. One priest started by going through the crowd opposite us and working his way round in a circle. As he threw the holy water people thanked him for the blessing by letting out a high pitched scream and waving their palms vigorously. From where we were standing, with our view of the priest shielded as soon as he entered the crowd, it looked like an animal running in tall grass. We could judge where he was only by the waving of the palms and the voices.

With the palms blessed the procession began and we all danced up the road to the parish. An hour after the mass started, we arrived at the church. The mass proceeded like many other Sunday masses, only this week there seemed to be more singing and more high pitched screaming then usual (the screaming is something the women do a lot here when they are celebrating. At a party, mass or even small gatherings, the women show their appreciation by letting out a high, and very, very fast, "lalalalalalalalalalala" sound. It is very hard to do and, when many scream at once, slightly overwhelming). Despite all the singing and dancing we will perhaps remember the Palm Sunday mass best because of the bidding prayers. There was nothing too out of the ordinary about the prayers themselves; however the person reading them was white with long ginger hair. John has become so proficient in kiSwahili that standing up in front of a full congregation and reading was no bother at all. He read very well and as he went to take his seat received a deserved wail from the left hand side of the church.

One final memory of this mass was the near life-size model donkey that was used to carry the Bible from the back of the church at the beginning of mass; quite fitting for Palm Sunday. We are told that next year, if it is possible, they will use a real donkey. Dave - would it be possible to do that in Farm Street?

Holy Week

Holy Week was a busy time for us as the primary school and youth centre were preparing for half term the week after. We were kept busy invigilating and marking the mid-term tests.

On the last day of term there was a school assembly at which all the teachers wished the children a happy Easter and gave them advice for the week. The first teacher told them to be sure to eat and, more importantly, drink in moderation; sound advice for three hundred pupils all under the age of twelve. Another teacher stressed the importance of the "three 'P's": "Play, Pray and Pay respect to your elders.", the last point being emphasised most. Finally the assistant head teacher addressed the school and told Class 4, currently the oldest year group, that they would return to school the following Tuesday and not have the week off. This seemed a tad harsh. In Tanzania children take national examinations at the end of Class 4. As a result of this most schools, including St Ignatius, make this year group have lessons until five o'clock everyday with an extra half day on Saturday. And we say that the children in Britain are tested too much and are put under a lot of exam time stress! Fortunately, however, the following Tuesday they were told to have the week off after all. It was their first break since early January.

More Masses

Having already gone into so much detail about the Palm Sunday mass, we will try to only give a brief summary of the Good Friday and Easter Vigil masses.

We were able to get to the Good Friday service in fairly good time and, despite being merely forty minutes early, we were able to get seats near the back. When it came to venerating the cross we realised just how many people were there. There were at least six crucifixes available to the congregation yet the process still took over an hour. It was a very sombre service which made a very noticeable contrast to the celebrations of the previous Sunday. However, being in a packed church, in the midday heat, with a (slowly) sung Passion was not how we would chose to spend every Friday. After the service they showed "The Passion" to the youth.

Finally we come to the Vigil Mass. At the start we were at least glad that it was not going to be in the midday heat (it started at nine). However by one a.m., as we stood outside waiting to go for communion, we started to freeze. Again we were struck by the amount of people present. There were people standing, close together, until about ten metres outside the church. They all, despite having a very limited view, if they had a view at all, stood for the whole four and a half hour mass.

When it was finally over we hobbled (standing for so long made movement difficult) to the Jesuit Residence. Here we were delighted to finish our Lenten promise and have a cold beer for the first time in weeks.

Easter Sunday

Don't worry: we won't talk about the morning mass.

The day started with a small Easter breakfast with the two German volunteers we live with. Unfortunately nobody had prepared an Easter egg hunt due to the lack of eggs and decent chocolate. We did however enjoy a fry up (without any black pudding, white pudding, beans, sausages or bacon. in fact it was just egg), some bubble gum and a few hard boiled sweets. From there we embarked to the church to join the Jesuits for a marathon parishioner crawl.

Having been here for Christmas we had some idea of what to expect; six houses were to be visited, six lunches eaten, who knows how much drink to be drunk. We started at the house of the architect of the primary school. He lived in Area D; the richest part of Dodoma , where many ministers stay. It was strange to be in such a lavish house, far removed from what we are used to. This is not because we are used to a poor standard of housing. The houses we know (our house, the Jesuit Residence) are middle class, simple bungalows. The first house we went to would not have looked out of place in Wimbledon Village (John's comment here deleted on grounds of taste: Ed). It was here, at just after one o'clock, the eating and drinking began; it would not stop for twelve hours.

After much effort we made it to the final stop, a place where we did not have to eat another lunch, only dinner. We were with a congregation of nuns, of the same order that run the primary school, that look after some teenagers as they go to different schools in Dodoma. As I'm sure you all know, no party with a room full of priests and nuns is complete unless you all dance around a table to some choral music. The weird thing for us now is that such an event is no longer weird; it feels completely normal to dance round, beer in hand, sandwiched between two large African nuns. The evening finished with some games prepared by the girls that stay there. Dermot was asked to spell his name with his chin, a hard task considering the amount of orange juice he had drunk. John was asked to sing a song. He obliged by singing a rude Irish folk song which went well over the heads of everybody in the room.

The Split

Here John and Dermot went their separate ways for the week. Dermot chose to spend the week off in Dar es Salaam with American friends. John elected to stay in Dodoma, his home.

So as John is currently at home cooking, I (Dermot) will write about my week first.

Dermot in Dar

I travelled to Dar not only looking forward to staying with Kate, Susie and Billy, the American volunteers, but also because I knew fellow XVP volunteer and South Londoner, Martin would be there. Martin is currently volunteering in Mwanza, northern Tanzania, and had come to Dar, via Nairobi , for a week long break. It was good to see him again. We had gone for a drink a few days before I left home and had chatted about things we were worrying about and things we were expecting to find tough. It was good to meet again in country, with the gift of hindsight, and laugh about how irrational and silly most of these fears seem now.

On the Wednesday Martin, Susie and I went to the beach for the day. Travelling there was simply painful. We needed two daladalas (minibus like public transport. They are packed as tightly as possible with people standing in any available space. In the heat of Dar they are only just bearable) to get to the beach. On the first dala, Martin found himself standing. I say standing; what I really mean is bent into an amusingly awkward position, between two large African mamas. After ten minutes, we stopped for half an hour. Finally we made it to town. On the second bus I was standing. Thankfully I was the only person standing so I wasn't too squashed. Annoyingly this bus had a lower roof so I was bent at the hips. Also this one had no carpeting on the ceiling. In the heat the roof was red hot. We were bumping along an unpaved road, with every pot hole I was thrown upwards and burnt my back on the roof. This kept the bus entertained on what was, otherwise, an uneventful journey.

After such a long journey we were happy to make it to the beach. The only problem was that as soon as we got off the dala the heavens opened and we walked the final two hundred metres in an African thunderstorm. With the weather how it was I was nearly reminded of being on a beach in England , the only differences being that the beach in Dar has white sand and the water is warmer than most swimming pools. We had a very good day there. Whilst in the water, watching a lightning storm on the horizon, we nervously discussed that if water conducts electricity then surely the sea isn't a safe place to be during a lightning storm. We also swam out to a small fishing boat that was anchored a little way out to sea. Martin spent much time trying to persuade me to swim to this boat. I agreed but on the condition that if I get halfway and don't think I'll make it then he was to let me go back. He quickly pointed how stupid going half way and turning back was.

On my final day there I followed Susie and Kate round as they taught at Loyola. This would have been more enjoyable had Martin not told the Americans that I was College Captain last year. This was something I had kept quiet for six months and, for some unexplainable reason, something which surprised them greatly. So for Susie's lesson she asked Martin and I if we wouldn't mind answering some questions from her and the students. The second question I was asked was whether or not I had been Head Boy of my school. With the subsequent answer she made the class shout: "Hongera (congratulations) Head Boy!" They found this fun and so after every answer I gave, throughout the hour long lesson, I had a class of forty teenagers congratulating me with laughter and cheers. Susie and Martin found this very funny.

The next day Martin followed me back to Dodoma.

John in Dodoma

Dermot left at a bad time. Not only because he was so hungover but because a lot of things were going on that week. Indeed that very morning of his departure the remaining volunteer community, the sisters from the school and the Jesuits left for Mtwera for a traditional Easter Monday picnic. In a land cruiser, it only takes about a few minutes to be properly out in the bush. The roads are a bit bumpy so it can be good craic. (what?: Ed.) We arrived at another parish in a very remote area after around three hours, to be greeted by a bunch of kids singing in bright red caps and t-shirts saying 'MADE IN CANADA' which received some jokes before the day was out.

The day passed by, nicely although it was very hot. But I have a memory still very vivid in my mind. On our way back as the sun was setting in the middle of nowhere I, being crowded amongst a group of red shirted youths, as well as Tanja and Melanie, knew it was a good time for singing (a wonderful thing about children like these is that they will sing at the drop of a hat). I cannot explain the nicety of the words being sung: KRISTU JANA, LEO, DAIMA NA MILELE.. AMEFUFUKA, LEO, DAIMA NA MILELE.. Even though I cannot explain its relevance, it pulled on something deep within my soul and showed itself to me "like the pitter patter of fresh rain on my dry, dry heart."

On a more comical note, whilst the Jesuit who is in-charge of Dermot and me (Shete) was driving our car back to Dodoma, the lights suddenly died, which is good fun when you are neither here nor there, and have no clue where you are. I proceeded to show Shete under the bonnet and where precisely the problem was, and he proceeded to get electrocuted, which was actually quite fun for me. For the next three days I was on holiday. I relished the occasion by staying in bed.

Close by to our place there is a home for disabled children run by the same Sisters who run St. Ignatius Primary School . Our fellow volunteers and community members Melanie and Tanja work there. On the Friday of this week apart I went with them to work as we set off for a second picnic. Hombolo was the destination; a nice quiet place within the Dodoma region which actually has water, a wonderful commodity around here.

It was a humbling experience working with such children, especially one child called Diana, who cannot speak or understand anything, but when she smiles the entire world brightens up . trust me, it's nice. Or even Lubuva who can neither walk nor talk. He is six years old but the size of a baby. He will sit there in your arms all day and not make a single sound. Caring for them and the many others is indeed a lot of work though.

This brings us to the end of the week apart as on the Saturday Dermot returned with a guest.
Dermot left me for a single week, and when he came back with Martin all those days later, I was shocked by the speed of our language. Being from North London I had a great way with words when in was back in England . Words that do not exist, and swearing, just weave in and out whilst incommunicado. Now my language is slow pronounced correctly and I greet people "How are you?" instead of "Easy mate" for the benefit of all.

Finally, let it be said that at first, even though I was the principle opposition to Martin Pickup's (XVP) reports (which are longer than The Psalms), I was still against writing a huge joke report about it. But here we are.

Melanie's Birthday and Tanja Leaves

The day after Dermot returned and Martin arrived was Melanie, German Jesuit volunteer and housemate's, birthday. The day started with another big breakfast, similar to the one we had on Easter Sunday. This time, however, we really slashed out, and bought some processed cheese as well. In the afternoon we (John, Dermot, Melanie, Tanja, Martin and Shete) climbed the hill that overlooks Dodoma . This is something we had been wanting to do since we first arrived but had never got round to organising. Dodoma is a very flat town and this hill, called Lion Rock, is one of the only vantage points around. This hill is called Lion Rock simply because the large rocks at the top make it look like a slumbering lion; interestingly enough it was this hill that Pride Rock from "The Lion King" is based on.

After only about an hour walking (it isn't very big) we made it to the top and were given a perfect view of Dodoma . It was funny to see how small the capital city is. The small amount of buildings seemed insignificant in comparison to the vast African plains that spread to the horizon. Looking over the flat, flat plains of Dodoma we felt like we were in the heavens, almost close enough to touch the stars. However as it was mid-afternoon we couldn't see where the stars were, making touching them ultimately too difficult.

That evening we, along with the Jesuit community, went out for dinner. It was a double celebration as the next day Tanja, the other German Jesuit volunteer, was due to leave Dodoma for the last time. At the end of the meal everybody gave a customary speech to the girls however, at first, not everybody was so keen to speak. One of the scholastics claimed that he was unable because if he tried to say goodbye he would only end up crying. Martin too tried to get out of any emotional speeches citing the fact that he had only known them for twenty six hours as a valid reason. Both excuses were deemed too weak and everybody spoke.

A quiet house for the rest of April

Melanie took the opportunity of Tanja leaving to take a couple of week's holiday and travel around a bit of East Africa, leaving John and Dermot to resume work in a quieter house. Martin stayed with us for a few more days as his train to Mwanza did not leave till the Thursday. Whilst here he followed us round our work and helped us in our classes. He gave Dermot some invaluable lessons as he started his netball coaching career. It came as quite a shock to Dermot that netball should be quite so complicated.

The day before Martin was due to leave we went out for a drink at a local bar. One of the barmaids became quite friendly to us and took a shine to Martin. For some reason her proposal that they should wed the next day was turned down.

The next couple of weeks passed by as normal. There was an internal inspection at the school after a few complaints were made about the standard of teaching and the standard of the teacher's spoken English. John's inspection went well and as a result he has been allowed to teach his class, unassisted, for the rest of the year.

The only other noteworthy event that happened came after we had watched a European football match. We returned to our house in high spirits, laughing and joking. Our guard did not recognise us. We made it to the gate and Dermot put his hands through to unlock the pad lock. Then our guard made his presence known by loudly unsheathing his machete and stepping towards the gate. After a moment of terror, during which Dermot thought he was about to have his hands cut off, we were recognised, much to the amusement of our guard. Now every time we return after dark we are sure to rattle our keys and call out to him.

The final weekend

It's nearly finished. Honest.

The last day of April has, for as long as he can remember, also been Dermot's birthday. So on the last Saturday in April Susie and Kate came to visit Dodoma and join any birthday celebrations. Melanie had just returned from her travels as well, making our house, once again, full of people.

The weekend passed fairly uneventfully. We were happy just to spend time in each others' company and have a tour of Dodoma (a tour of the whole city does not take long). The evenings were filled with a mixture of "Bongo Flava" (music) and Konyagi (fruit juice).

On the thirtieth Dermot was surprised to hear the kids at the nursery sing happy birthday to him. He had not told many people that it was his birthday so it was odd to have very small children, who know very little English, sing to him. It was a nice thought. After the eightieth rendition, however, perhaps the thought would have been enough.

Susie and Kate spent the morning with John at St Ignatius. They helped out in his class before heading off to see Melanie's work at a nearby home for disabled children. In the afternoon they came to the youth centre. Dermot had a debate during his class which Susie and Kate joined in. The topic was: "Money is more important than education." Susie, an American, chose money. Kate, a Jesuit old girl, chose education. They proceeded to argue between themselves for thirty minutes as the rest of the class looked on, bemused.

That evening, as it was a Monday, was spent at the Jesuit Residence. We are there every Monday for dinner and an English mass. We had a small celebration with cake and, more importantly, ice cream. Luckily for us in Tanzania they do not move public holidays so that they fall on the next Monday which meant we had the following day (Mayday) off work. Thus April finished, just like 2006, in the only club in Dodoma.

Final thought:

Dermot's time here has nearly come to and end and so recently we have had many reflective discussions about our time here. We talk about what our hopes and fears were before coming here and how we think we have grown since arriving. We have also talked about our work and what influence, if any, we have had on the people here. During such conversations one quote in particular keeps coming up. It is by Epictetus; our favourite stoic philosopher, who says:                 

Only the educated are free

We hope, in some small way, that we have helped to free a few people.

Finally

Dermot and John wish to extend all their thoughts and prayers to their fellow volunteer and friend, Charles Graffius, who, whilst working as a man for others in his overseas mission got into a serious accident and is now very ill. We ask you to send all your good wishes and prayers for the sake of his full and speedy recovery.

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