Less than two weeks before we leave Arusha for Spokane. As always our time here has gone by far too quickly. Also, as usual, I have left several things I absolutely need to get done undone until the last minute. That’s always the way it is though. I think I have plenty of time to do certain errands or small tasks and then leave them until the last minute. Oh well. There’s always next year.
It was downright chilly during the night, and for the first time it made sense to me that there is a light comforter on our bed. Usually, I think of it as a decoration which must be folded away each night at bedtime, but last night, about 2:00 a.m., I crawled out from under the mosquito net and got it to cover me. The electricity which had been off more than on all evening, was on when I got up, so I had a long, lovely, hot shower to warm up.
With John gone, I tend to lose track of time. Ray had told me he was coming at 10:00 this morning to take me to visit Anita’s school, but it wasn’t until he texted me at 9:25 to tell me he would be here at 9:45 that I realized I needed to get dressed and ready to go. This definitely seemed like a skirt occasion to me, so I put on my most conservative black and white skirt and black top. Ray seemed to approve as when he doesn’t, he sometimes lets me know in question form, e.g., Is that what you are wearing? Do you like your hair that short? This morning he was silent except for the traditional morning greetings.
The school’s location wasn’t where I had thought it was. That’s because the Prime Secondary School is near us, and the Prime Primary School, where Anita goes is not. We drove in a very different section of Arusha in and among very nice compounds and shops. When we entered the gates of the school, the children were all outside on a break, happily running around or playing on genuine, nicely maintained play equipment. I was already seeing some enormous differences between this school and the former one where Anita had been.
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| Buildings for the lower grades |
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| Part of the playground |
First, Ray took me to the director’s office, where we made our formal introductions, and then director took me on a tour. I had already noted that the grounds were far better kept than the norm, and all the buildings were spotlessly painted. It’s difficult to maintain exterior paint in this climate, so extra care had to be given here. There were African and Indian students, and many of the girls were obviously Muslim. However, almost all the play groups I saw were mixed, not segregated by race or culture. Also, even the littlest children came up to me and greeted me in English, instead of hanging back and just peaking at me as usually happens in school situations. This is the school that Sidney Kundayo attends, and he was very surprised when I suddenly appeared.
The director was very proud to show me the different classrooms from nursery (age 3+) to 7th form (maybe equivalent to our 7th grade). Every single classroom was spacious, bright, and very well decorated. I had never seen anything this nice at any other African school here—not even St. Margaret’s, which is frightfully expensive. Only very expensive international private schools have such classrooms. However, the absolutely most impressive thing was that every single classroom is limited to only 30 students. This year 40 students were admitted to the 6th form, so the group was split into two groups of 20 each even though that meant the expense of hiring another teacher. That’s better than the classroom ratio some of our American teachers have!
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| Anita's old school, a private Lutheran one. Anita is the tiny girl far in the back corner in a red and white hat. |
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| Anita's new classroom and teacher |
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| Notice the nice desks and the decorated walls. |
They are still building a second story onto the classrooms for the higher grades, but they already have a computer room in place. I didn’t climb the stairs to see it, but based on what I had already seen, I am sure it has real computers which actually function. The Indian community here values good education, and by making certain their children get it, they also give Tanzanian students who can afford it, the same opportunity. The fees are expensive, but here Anita will be offered a real education, not just a place to sit and parrot back all day.
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| Anita in her new uniform |
I tried to be careful while taking photos. I would have loved some closer shots of the different students. Most interesting to me were the little Sikh boys with tiny training knots on top of their heads. These looked like small buns covered by white or blue hankies. The little Muslim girls in their hijab made me nostalgic for Fadhila’s daughters. We miss out on so much without such diversity at home.
After we left the school, Ray wanted to take me to see a restaurant he thought I should know about as they serve authentic African food. This place is actually next to the curio shop I usually shop at each year, but have avoided this time. I actually ducked down so the men inside wouldn’t see me pass by. The restaurant totally amazed me: it was like walking back into the colonial years, with big fake tusk arches over the entry path and a huge thatched covered dining area. I asked to see a menu, and was surprised that the prices were very reasonable. This is where John can go to get his fix of goat meat.
From there, Ray drove me to Kitamu Coffee. I wanted to spend several hours outside Kundayo at a place where I could drink good coffee and read for a couple of hours. People came and went, but no one bothered me while I drank French press coffee, nibbled on mandazi, and read my current book, “It Can’t Happen Here.” I ordered some maharagwe (beans stewed in coconut milk) to take away, and returned to Kundayo about 1:00p.m.
I had barely gotten into my apartment, when Emmanuel appeared at the door with a tray with a big plate of baked chicken, rice, and greens, a dish of vegetable stew for the rice, and another dish of Swahili salad. When I expressed my astonishment, he told me that Mama Kundayo had ordered it for me. So, I put my humble maharagwe in the refrigerator, and had a delicious feast. Mama is something else!
The afternoon went by slowly, as I was waiting for John to return from Nairobi. The bus left there at 2:00 p.m. so I assumed if all went well, John would be back between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m. I was too juiced up from strong coffee to stay still or take a nap, so I pitter- patted around cleaning out the refrigerator, squaring the corners of book piles, and checking my Facebook and email. It poured rain for about an hour and then the sun reappeared
Around 8:30 John returned and we talked abut his experiences in Nairobi before finally going to sleep.
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