It appears
to me that I have written about random projects or ideas without really giving
a picture of life here. So, here’s a snapshot of a day in the life at site.
It’s 5:00
and I can hear the rooster crowing in my yard but I ignore it. School doesn’t
start for another two hours and I’ve had a restless night. I roll over,
adjusting my sheets that always seem to come undone from my bed, and collapse…
for way too long! It’s 6:30 already and I’ve got to get going. I put some water
on the camping stove I have to heat up and run out to my latrine which is
fairly cockroach-free. When I get back, I get some water in my shower bucket,
add some hot water to it and take my bucket bath. I have time to brush my teeth
and run out the door with my backpack and bike to get to school.
At school,
I go and grab my chalk, greet the 349032 other teachers and other faculty at my
school and walk across the courtyard to my classroom. Two students start
running at me frantically, pushing each other and yelling things I can’t hear,
in a desperate attempt to be the first to have the privilege of carrying my
backpack to class for me. It’s completely unnecessary but it’s what they do for
teachers and, besides, they’ve worked so hard to be the first… So, now slightly
unburdened, I can go and get started. (On test days the students are especially
eager to take the tests off my hands. NICE TRY BUT NO.)
My classes
this year have a meager 80-82 students in each of them and I’m teaching the
same level as last year which makes things much easier. I’m able to plan out
better in-class activities and examples. Mostly, I like to get the class
moving. This involves making gestures or standing and sitting in accordance
with various mathematical ideas. It’s packed but these simple actions help
engage the students in a way they never experience in math class. We get
through the two-hour block fairly harmlessly and I’ve finished teaching for the
day!
A student
grabs my backpack and we make our way back to the main administrative structure
with students peppering me with questions about America along the way. Every so
often I make a rousing and impassioned speech about success and hard work and
the importance of education. Because I can. Anyways, I get back, pay for a
small ground-mystery meat sandwich from the head of discipline, and then relax
with my fellow teachers for a while. They talk about soccer, their subject
matter, world events and more and I can usually keep up with their rapid-fire
French. It’s shady under the mango tree
where the teachers have set up their benches and during the right season, one
teacher will take a big pole and knock some fruit down for us to eat.
After a bit
of relaxation, it’s time to eat. I normally have three options- cook for myself
(I’m becoming quite proficient if I do say so myself), eat attieke that a lady
makes near my house, or swing by the local restaurant for some upper-class fare
(slightly more expensive rice with peanut butter sauce). Afterwards, I take a
siesta. It’s too hot! The town virtually shuts down as between 1 and 3 in the
afternoon, people go home to rest. There are people in my courtyard back home
who sleep under my mango tree on huge mats during this time. The kid in my
courtyard has rigged it so he can have electricity to play music outside. He
also built an awesome looking antenna which he claims boosts his radio
reception so much that he gets broadcasts from Europe. I should really look
into that. The kid, Boureima, is about 17-18 years old and dropped out of
school a few years back after finding himself mixed up in the wrong crowd. Now
he’s living on his own and works with a butcher selling mutton.
So, after
my siesta, I either go back to school for my extra practice courses I offer to
my students every Tuesday and Thursday, or I work on something else.
(Attendance for these extra classes ranges between 30 and 60.) I might go into
town and find some people to talk with and pass the time, or I might work on my
grad school applications at the cyber café that just opened up (with wi-fi!). I’ve
had great conversations with random strangers about economics, America,
poverty, politics, or what have you. Sometimes, I get mixed up in random
projects or opportunities such as when I was invited to observe and help out
with an information session about tuberculosis for some of the nearby
villagers. Here’s a story one woman shared (in local language of course):
She was
from a wealthier, educated family in a developed town but was the youngest of a
large family. Thus, she ended up finding herself as a third wife to a man from
“the brousse” (the brush, meaning a small village). Things were ok until the
first wife got very sick and eventually passed away. While she was sick, the husband
demanded that everyone avoid contact with the first wife and she was completely
cut off from the family. Despite this, the second wife then fell ill, was
isolated, and then passed away. After this, the husband began accusing the
third wife of being a sorceress and killing the other two. Fearing for her
life, she took her child and fled, eventually being able to divorce the husband
and she moved to my site. She had heard the cause of death for the other two
women was tuberculosis and wanted desperately to know more.
That was a
powerful story when I heard it translated to me. The trainers shared some
preliminary information with her and directed her to a contact at the local
hospital to learn more. Afterwards, the trainers gave several kilograms of rice
to each participant. This encourages people to come to future trainings and
info sessions.
Anyways,
after afternoon adventures and apparently assonance, I either go to watch a
soccer game at a friend’s house or retreat back to my own home to prepare for my
lessons, cook dinner, practice my guitar (thanks again R.A!), or just relax at
the house. It’s getting dark and I need the personal time to recharge.
And THAT,
my friends, is a typical day.
