The Joys of July

July 16, 2001

The cyber centre was closed for over a week because a multimillion-shilling satellite receiver was being installed and a technician needed to come from Dar es Salaam.

The university has moved to the temporary office in the old immigration building near the lake. The rooms have not been renovated, so they are dusty, unpainted and unlit. There is only one outlet for all the student computers. I have set up five of them in a hallway-like room between the reception and Professor Katoke's office. I have not turned them all on at once, and I'm hoping it won't blow a fuse or start the building on fire. If the university gains funds, they will add a light and electrical connections to a more suitable classroom-like room nearby. I have had no survey responses and very few inquiries about the non-degree summer courses I had hoped to teach. One problem is that there are very few high school graduates in Bukoba; another is the relatively high cost of the course (about $100 for 8 weeks, which is more than the average Tanzanian salary for the same period). But probably the biggest problem is getting the word out; in Africa conversation is a more effective advertisement tool than writing such as flyers and surveys, particularly if the writing is in English. We have tried putting copies of my simplified advert on various bulletin boards in town, so maybe students will register next week. My programming students have expressed interest in learning Java graphics and the AWT, and maybe QBasic graphics, so I may be teaching them as well. I have been reading a little of the Java books I received and realize that I really only know the basics and graphics, and almost nothing about exception handling, threads, I/O, beans, databases, networking, RMI and servlets. Some Chinese road workers with very little knowledge of English have asked to take English courses, but Ann is in the UK, so maybe a Tanzanian lecturer will teach them. (I considered offering to help if I don't get any computer students, but I am not qualified to teach English.) The fundraising committee meets on Tuesday, so by Wednesday we will have a better idea of the financial support we can expect (and maybe when I will be paid?).

Exam results were acceptable but disappointing; the students only averaged 50% in each class. (Passing is 40%.) My questions were too difficult and wordy, the students did not have enough time on the computer lab session, and I had been a very disorganised teacher for the programming students because I did not create a syllabus in advance. Luckily homework grades were much better and the average final grade was in the 60s, which is a B+. (An A is 70%.) I finished marking by the Monday after exam week, but the grades were not due until the following Monday. (Even then, half the teachers had an excuse why they needed an extra week.)

The weather has been mostly sunny and very dry and dusty, with only a couple brief showers overnight. The lake flies have not been a problem at all. For exercise I have gone running a few times and played tennis twice. It has definitely made me feel better, though I still need to work off a lot of fat from eggs, whole milk and cooking oil. I get a lot of laughs and comments when jogging, because I jog in the evening along the main road, which is heavily travelled; because Tanzanians do not jog for exercise (sports are rare and primarily social, food is relatively expensive, and energy is conserved for productive physical labour); and because dress is warm and conservative: for an adult to run around town in shorts and a t-shirt is like someone in the US running around the business district on a cold day in their underwear. I also get exercise on my 10-minute walk to work, since it is farther than the old office, but it isn't really far enough to justify purchasing a bicycle. The bicycle taxi guys ring their bell and ask if I want a lift, but so far I have always declined because I'm a miser and need the exercise. Also, I heard that the regional government made bicycle taxis illegal, so padding on the rear fender area is not permitted and the ride might be a bit uncomfortable though not very dangerous.

Last weekend I went with Cyprian (the university bursar), Nicola (another lecturer) and two students to the homecoming visit of Cyprian's son and his new wife to Rubafu. They had been married in Dar and had not yet returned to meet the extended family. It was a bumpy and dusty hour-long drive by daladala (van) through banana plantations and hilly, grassy meadows. We passed many primary schools and churches, and there were some very nice views of the lake far below. Rubafu is a small village on a peninsula overlooking the lake, right on the Ugandan border, and is marked on a detailed map of Tanzania I have. At the homestead were about 200 people, including most of the locals. We entered in a sort of procession, welcomed by singing and dancing. We sat on a grass-covered ground inside a cement building designed like a traditional homestead, men on one side and women on the other, and ate a large plateful of the regional foods (bananas, beans, beef, pilau rice, spinach) and drank beer and soda. Cyprian and his family, including his 90-year-old mother, talked in the other room. We then sat under some UNHCR tarps and watched various presentations. There were speeches in Swahili by Cyprian, the groom, the master of ceremonies dressed in a cream suit, and various other well-dressed men; traditional drumming, dancing, and singing with hilarious and sexually suggestive lyrics composed for the occasion by teenage girls; Swahili and Haya hymns by a choir of women and men who sang falsetto; Tanzanian music on a boombox powered by two car batteries; and handshakes of the bride and groom by all the VIPs including myself. (I was indirectly referred to as the American from New York.) It was a fascinating afternoon; I only regret that I did not take any pictures and that I did not know the languages better. (For example, I kept hearing "warusi" and wondered why they were talking about the Russians, but they were actually saying "harusi" which means wedding.)

On July 4 I went up the hill to Ihungo to celebrate Independence Day with a surprisingly large number of Americans (about 30) and a few others. In the afternoon we played softball on the corner of a large, grassy and somewhat uneven soccer field. (Eric received a large amount of new softball equipment in a donation from Rawlings. We didn't sing the national anthem, though.) In the evening we consumed delicious hamburgers, chips, potato salad, chocolate cake, beer and soda and listened to American tunes on Eric's massive Aiwa stereo. A good time was had by all.