A Crazy Week

This past week was quite eventful. Beginning with an “incident” we had at school last week. I was going to teach my class, and as usual we were faced with our daily issues of their irresponsibility, noisiness, lack of respect, and tardiness to class. I was in the classroom wanting to start class, and ten minutes after the bell rang I still had students missing who were wandering around outside. I was yelling at them to run to class, and even pulling some of them into the class myself, and although this is VERY normal on any given day, I was particularly infuriated with the situation on that day. Once everyone was inside I had quite a few words to say to them, but I was still really upset. Bibi just happened to be at the school then, so I told them I was going to get her to talk to them because Bibi is quite a lecturer and you can be sure you’ll feel badly for misbehaving after a talk with Bibi. They were not too thrilled about that. She came in and began her lecture. I sat near the board facing the class as she talked. While she was talking, I was just thinking so much about my students and I started to cry. I thought about the futures so many of them will probably have…the boys will work on the wretched dalla-dalla buses or sell groundnuts on the side of the road. The girls will probably have babies in the next couple of years with men who will beat them, or leave them, or give them AIDS. It was just hurting me so much to think of what they’re doing to themselves and I truly love them, otherwise I wouldn’t worry so much. When Bibi left, I stood up before the class, pointed to my face, and said, “what am I doing right now?” A few of them quietly answered, “you’re crying.” “That’s right,” I said. “And why am I crying? Because I’m brokenhearted. Because it breaks my heart that I love you more than you love yourselves. Because it breaks my heart that I care about your futures more than you do. Because it breaks my heart to think where some of you will end up and the type of future you will have. Because many of you have no future. There is only pain and suffering ahead of you if you continue to be so careless about the things which are most important.” As I talked, I cried harder and harder and by the end of it, it was impossible to speak any more. I’m not sure how I said as much as I did. Many of the students were crying as well, and I had to leave the room for a few minutes to compose myself so that I could start teaching again. That was quite a dramatic afternoon, but many of them came to me later that day and apologized and I can honestly say that both of my classes have been MUCH better behaved since then.

This past weekend, I went to Zanzibar. Wow, it is GORGEOUS! Sadly I only had 3 days to spend there which is definitely not enough because there are so many different places to go and see. I went alone, so I was really hoping to meet someone to hang out with while I was there. After getting off the boat, I met a really sweet and beautiful English girl named Lucy. We decided to get a taxi together to the same hostel, and once we were there we decided to share a room together also. That evening we wandered around the narrow, maze-like streets of Stonetown, we booked a couple of small tours, had dinner, and had a couple of drinks at a really nice beachfront bar with live music. The next day we went on a spice tour where we were taking to a plantation and we smelled and tasted different spices and plants and fruits. It was really cool and one of the boys climbed up this ridiculously tall coconut tree. Then we went to the Magapwani caves where slaves had been hidden during the slave trade. Later that evening, my friend Joshua joined us in Zanzibar and the 3 of us, along with Joshua’s friend Charles went out to eat a really delicious restaurant. This family has a small restaurant in their home and they serve course after course of traditional Zanzibarian food. It was SOOO good. Then we went to another beachfront bar with live music. That was super entertaining. The next day we went to a small island off the coast of Zanzibar called Prison Island. It was where they had once intended to keep slaves as prisoners, but there had been a smallpox outbreak, so it became a quarantine island for the slaves instead. We saw HUGE tortoises that were up to 200 years old and about 450 pounds. We also went snorkeling. It was pouring rain for part of the time we were snorkeling, and that was actually really cool, it just made things a little harder to see under the water. Then, when it got sunny again, we headed to the beach for a little while, and finally headed back to Zanzibar so that I could catch my boat home.

Needless to say, the ride home was quite eventful. First of all, I got REALLY sick on the boat. The boat was WAY overbooked, and many of us were just sitting on the floor of the deck in the back. And it was anything but smooth sailing. There was a really nice Nigerian man sitting next to me who kept checking on me, he found me a bucket to throw up in, and he rubbed my back the whole time I vomited. I can honestly say it was not fun. I was SOOO happy to finally get to the port, and Albert was waiting there to pick me up. We set off for the drive back to our village of Bunju. Every time I’m riding in a car in this country, ESPECIALLY at night, I’m always wondering how it is that I never see anyone get hit by a car. I think it must happen so often because people are FOREVER darting out in front of super fast cars, and at night there are NO lights anywhere, and the car headlights are all quite dim. It’s undeniably dangerous. So like I said before, I’m always wondering how it is that I haven’t yet witnessed something horrible. Well, I definitely did on that night, and it was the last thing I would have ever wanted to happen. We were driving along the dark road, and this teenage boy darted in front of our car and Albert slammed into him. We hit him on my side of the car, and it was like every second was in agonizingly long slow motion and I will never forget the look of that boys face illuminated in the car headlight directly in front of me. It was a look of total fear and pain. The boy sat stunned and he seemed to be alright as everyone nearby rushed over to him. Albert drove up a little and pulled over to the side of the road. I assume he intended to check on the boy, but within one second, the people were angrily rushing towards our car and things did NOT look good. Albert slammed on the gas pedal and sped away as a huge mob of people ran after us beating the car and screaming at us. Someone even tried to throw a huge rock through the open window at Albert’s head, but it just barely missed him. I have never seen Albert so scared, and I have NEVER seen Albert drive so fast, weaving in and out of traffic. Of course, the driving made me sick again, and as though my fear and shock wasn’t enough, I was now leaning out the window puking the whole rest of the way home. By the time we got home, the whole outside of the car was covered in my vomit, it was all over my face, and the house boys had crowded all around me as I clumsily tried to wash the “residue” off of myself.

It was quite a week I would have to say, quite a week. After all, TIA, TIA (This Is Africa)