Week 8: 26/03/11 ‘Elephants and power-cuts’ (Cultural Development)

Feeding an elephant, as you do

playing pool at the Braii

When I first moved to Belfast from Dublin to start Uni, I had absolutely no idea what was going on for a fair few weeks. The only time I had been in Northern Ireland was for my interview, so I was totally unfamiliar with all the ways of life that I’ve now come to love there. I can recall in my first couple of weeks up north, people asking me “are you for going to the cinema?” to which I would reply “I am…. but who are the other 3 people?” (thinking that ‘for’ meant ‘four’).  I arrived to class one day to find everybody muttering about a “Mazz” test which we had and I literally had no clue what they were talking about. When I found out that it was mathematics, the same subject which I referred to as ‘mats’, I was a little relieved. On my first year of teaching practice, I had to teach the ‘ou’ sound to my p1 class and the teacher actually told me I had to put on a Northern Irish accent to teach it.

With so many differences in a place 2 hours away from where I grew up, you can only imagine the differences between Zambia and home. Though, I think we’ve adapted to most of them by this stage.

My elephant was called the "mother-in-law"

This week, we had a pretty relaxed week soaking in life here and getting some more dissertation stuff done. Not actually too stressful, because if we were doing essays at home, we wouldn’t be getting a tan at the same time! We’ve also discovered the joys of freezing juice in a yogurt pot with a spoon in it- instant ice pops!

 We went elephant back riding which was fantastic. We got to sit on top of the elephants while they walked through the Bush, and then we rewarded them by feeding them. The elephant I was on was cute and kept going off to the side and pushing down trees and things, quite a fun experience!

feeding the elephant!

With regards to language here, we found out this week (from Patrick) that one of the reasons the kids we were teaching kept writing ‘l’ instead of ‘r’ was because there’s no letter ‘r’ in any of the Zambian languages. Also, one of the kids used to sit at the back of the class shouting “teacha, teacha” all the time, waving his hand about when he knew the answer, which nearly drove us up the wall. Apparently, the reason they say “teacha” and “Puta youra baga ova therea” is because in all the Zambian language (which there are like 73 of), they have a vowel with every consonant.



Making Veggie Sausages at the braii



On Saturday evening we went to another braii with some of the teachers from our school. We were told it was starting at 4pm, which meant that we turned up at about half past five. There was practically nobody there when we first arrived and when a teacher turned up after 6pm, she greeted us with “oh, you came early”. We haven’t quite adjusted to the African time thing so.

Blessing skipping away

The orphanage this week was especially lovely because we brought some of our friends with us. They got to experience the joys of throwing around bouncy balls and having their hair played with by the kiddies too. There’s a strange little Zambian dude that greets us with a fist pump every time we get off the rickety minibus to the orphanage. At the start we were so weary of him, but now, we’re the ones going over to him to say hello!

There are loads of little differences here that we’ve gotten used to, like there was a massive power cut the other night. It was so peaceful though because they lit candles everywhere and a bunch of us just sat under the stars playing some South African game.

Other than that, we’ve been for meals out; been amazed by the colour-changing skills of a chameleon that was climbing on us; had a few nights of dancing (where we have actually started to recognise the songs!); appreciated a couple of dirt cheap group cooking experiences; and loved a bit of swimming in a sudden downpour of rain- not a bad week! I’m also really enjoying the numerous jokes about Amy’s accent, it makes me feel a little bit better about the way I say the “ou” sound that I mentioned I had to teach in first year…

The chameleon we named "Noble"

Week 7: 20/03/2011 ‘patriotism, tortillas and rainbows’ (personal development)

It’s weird how when you travel away from home, where you’re from becomes so much more of a part of your identity. Before we get to know the people who are staying at Jollyboys with us, we often refer to them as “those English girls”, “that Italian guy with the guitar”, or “that bunch of people from that really random country we’ve never heard of”. We have, naturally, in turn been referred to as the “Irish girls”, or in Amy’s case, “that Irish Chick who I can’t understand, the one with the really strong accent”.  



Us at the Lunar rainbow at Vic Falls



With Paddy’s day occurring this week, we proudly represented our nationality on the 17^th; though I’m pretty sure when Amy’s at home she calls herself British but ‘tomato, tomato’. It was lovely receiving the free worldwide calls from home that Vodafone had provided for the day. The call from my 3 year old nephew was definitely my favourite!

When I wished the receptionists a lovely Paddy’s day in the morning, they were quick to change the activities board from “have a nice day” to “happy St. Patrick’s Day”. Following this was the question of who exactly Saint Patrick was. When attempting to respond, I realised I wasn’t really too sure…. I waffled something about slaves, shamrocks, Christianity and snakes before wandering away in my green t-shirt to get stuck into some dissertation work.

Anybody who knows me would say that I’m a last minute specialist- if it doesn’t need to be done for tomorrow, then it doesn’t really need to be done at all. So the idea of spreading out the writing of my dissertation over 6 weeks is a pretty foreign concept to me but so far it hasn’t been too bad. It took me nearly all week to decide on my title… but after that it’s actually been quite interesting researching into a topic area of my own choice.

On Wednesday afternoon, Amy and I had just sat down to read through some things we’d downloaded and get a few hundred more words written by the pool (oh yeah, this is the life) when a friend invited us to a Braii. We had heard all about the infamous African braiis, which are like social barbeques. We had also already had to refuse a few invitations previously because of other plans so we left the work for another afternoon and headed off in his four by four.



A Praying Mantis at the Braii



The house that the braii was in was located about 20mins away, near the river, so we had to suffer the treacherous mud roads once again. They’re actually not so bad when you get used to them. We were pretty early, so spent the afternoon swimming (not in the river, don’t worry…. not after seeing those crocs last week). By about 6pm, or as they call it here, ‘18hours’, there were about 80 people from all over Africa populating the grounds, there was a full pig roasting on the spit and random night bugs jumping all over us.

The couple that were hosting the braii had prepared a feast for everyone and I was very tempted by the aromas coming from the hog roast. Amy and I had wanted to make tortillas for ages but the 50 pin (‘pin’ is what us wannabe locals say for thousand) price tag (around £8) had stopped us from buying tortillas in the supermarket. So you can imagine our excitement when we saw a pile of about 100 tortillas for us to dig into at the braii!

mmmm... pig on a spit at the braii

When it was getting late and it seemed like everybody was finished eating, there were still loads of tortillas left.  After much deliberating and scheming, Amy and I shoved 8 between two paper plates and hid them in the host’s bedroom.

When we were leaving, with a kind stranger who was heading towards town, we went to retrieve our things from the room which we found locked. We found one of the hosts who let us in. As we were saying goodbye, her final remark was “don’t forget your tortillas”. Oops. Earlier on, she had entered the bedroom to find her husband standing by our tortillas and accused him of hogging the food…. It obviously just clicked with her that they were ours! It was worth it for the lovely dinners we had the next two nights though!

So, yes distractions like this have kept us from fully focusing on our dissertation writing! It has also been quite frustrating sitting in Kilimanjaro café (the internet café we use) for hours on end, where the internet is ridiculously slow and there is no air conditioning. The serious lack of access to books is making our ‘literature review’ without the literature quite difficult too! We’re making do though!



3 year old Mabote from the orphanage using
 the chalk to make himself into a muzungu



We have, of course, been enjoying ourselves this week too. Our orphanage visits are still going strong and are always a highlight of our week. One of the days, we brought big chalk that my wonderful mother had sent over amongst other things. The kids went crazy with it and were drawing on everything in sight! They wanted us to do sums with them on the ground and it was really sad to see some of the 8 and nine year olds having to draw out 6 dashes to add 5 and 1. They loved it though!



Me standing on a rock, in the middle of the night
(in a dress I had made here),
at the top of the Falls where the water is madly rapid..
 perhaps not the safest!



Then last night we went 10 minutes down the road to the Falls, to see a lunar rainbow. It was incredible. Talk about once in a lifetime opportunities! When there is a full moon and it reflects off the spray from the falls there is this colourful rainbow that emerges through the dark. It was stunning!

Altogether, not a bad first week away from teaching!

Week 6: 13/03/2011 'Give me Freedom, give me power' (Cultural and Professional development)

Some of our kids taking assembly (outside, in front of 1000
other children.... brave kids)

It’s insane that we have already done our 6 weeks of teaching. I think for the first time ever, I’m not ready for a teaching placement to be over! We really got quite involved in the school; we even took assembly on Monday. The kids were so sweet to us on our last day. They had prepared, of their own accord, various songs (with lyrics like “I will miss you when you go”), dances and poems for us. It was a tear-jerking day! We made them each up a little goodie bag which they were absolutely ecstatic about. The bag included a copybook, pens, crayons, stickers, sweets and a toothbrush. It took us hours to write a note in all 64 of their copybooks but it was definitely worth it to see their little faces light up!

Roping in some Aussie and Swedish
friends to help us make goodbye bags

I suppose, this week, it’s only appropriate to reflect on the kids’ education as a whole and our time with them. The entire time that we’ve been here, I’ve thought that there were two main problems holding these kids back from really striving in their education. I put the problem of them struggling to construct simple sentences or do basic maths sums down to a serious lack of resources and an overcrowding of classrooms. Statistically, there is one teacher to every 87 pupils here. Last year on teaching Practice, there were 23 kids in my class and I thought that was bad!

Giving out medals that my friend Ruth
sent over for their final spelling tests

 When we first started teaching in the Mighty Zambezi Basic School, they literally hung onto our every word but over the last few weeks, their behaviour has… shall we say… declined ever so slightly. They are adorable when we’re not trying to teach them something important, it’s just when we’ve got something we want to get done that they seem to all act out! We have had 3 girls balling their eyes out for 17 minutes straight while we try to teach. We have had children climbing over tables to hit other children while we try to reprimand a different child at the other side of the room for throwing a pencil at somebody’s eye. We have had to confiscate pages of everything from misspelt hymn lyrics to ‘I love you teacher’ notes (a welcome change from the things you find kids at home scribbling!).We have had to literally race children to the back of the class in order to prevent them from cheating on tests by changing their answers on the teacher’s desk. We have also had to think of various obscure things to keep them focused, familiarly known to most teachers as ‘time fillers’, such as retelling the story of Charlie and the chocolate factory. Amy’s version of this was set in a town called Stranmillis and the characters were all friends… do Rachel Gloop and Callum Wonka sound familiar?!? The class mimicked as Amy pranced about singing the Oompa Lumpa song, thinking it was some traditional Irish song! Hilarious!

Having so many children in one classroom with no resources to keep them interested with is tiring! Behavioural wise, it has been pretty difficult to control them. We try to keep our lessons as interesting as possible. Even when none of them are talking though, the rustling alone mixed with the various noises from the class next door (which only has a shutter to divide it) makes for a pretty headachy day!

Some of the class happy with their parting gifts

Corporal Punishment was abolished here in 2004, but that’s not to say that the kids aren’t used to regular ear twisting and knocks on the head. The first time we saw a teacher hurting a kid, we were pretty shocked but it’s the only way they know how to keep control over so many of them. One day, while we were trying to quieten the class down, there were some pretty defiant boys at the back who just would not listen. A girl turned to us and told us that “if you want them to listen, you just need to beat them”. Even the children themselves see this as a suitable way to manage a classroom!

Cutting some shapes in the schoolground- boy can those kids shake
their hips. I've definatley learnt a move or two!

All the behavioural management techniques which we have been developing over the last few years seem completely useless here! We’ve tried clapping out rhythms and doing Simon Says. We’ve tried whispering, shouting and speaking somewhere in between. We’ve even tried singing to them. If the kids here aren’t afraid of you, it takes a lot to keep them calm.

The huge class numbers have made catering for the massive range of abilities pretty tough too. We try to differentiate and have generally had different questions for the ones in the class who find certain subjects less challenging than others. It’s demanding though when even amongst the very weak children there are ones who don’t understand a word we say, and ones who just make little mistakes like spelling the word tomorrow, “tmarwa”.

Having nothing but a blackboard has really brought out the creative side of us; we have been acting in our English lessons, playing games for Maths and dancing in other classes.

The female teachers from or school on Women's day with the scholl banner which
Amy and I were nominated to carry around town.

On Tuesday, Amy and I dressed in traditional Chitenga dresses (which we had made for us) matching our fellow teachers, and paraded around town holding a banner for our school alongside about 2000 Zambian women to commemorate women’s day. It was a massive celebration of the progress that women in Africa have made and is a national holiday. There was dancing, singing, speeches and nibbles.

Holding snakes was scary but I think the scariest thing was that the
Pythons and Cobras on the glass cages behind us had all been
caught locally.

Holding onto a baby crocodile!

Patrick Kayawe (our main contact from the teacher’s training college here) has been around for some chats about the education system and even introduced us to some crocodiles and snakes this afternoon! He reckons that to solve the problems with the education system here, you need to go much deeper than just decongesting classrooms and filling them with resources. He thinks that the root of the problems lies with the role of women in society.

Our dresses for Women's day

There is a huge stigma attached to not being able to have children. While visiting a church last Sunday, the pastor suggested that life was not complete without having your own children. Because of this mind frame, the woman’s main role is to reproduce. The average woman here has something like 6.2 children. Patrick sees this as being the reason why the government cannot fund schools to have smaller classes and better resources. There are simply too many children! He suggests that by educating children in school about what it takes to raise families- adequate funds, space, resources- they will make wiser choices when they grow up and eventually the system will improve.

For now though, it seems the teacher’s here will just have to do the best they can with what they’ve got!

Week 5: 06/03/2011 The Day we mistook a cow for an elephant (Cultural development)



Aldous Huxley once said that “experience is not what happens to you. It is what you do with what happens to you.” In the last 5 weeks, we have had many experiences and they are all most definitely influencing our views.



A sign we stumbled aross in The Bush



An African toilet

On Saturday, after a busy week at school, we took a day trip to a nearby village called “Simonga”. The day didn’t exactly get off to the easiest start. We got, what we thought were, the buses that we had been told to get there. Our second bus pulled up to the side of the road in literally the middle of nowhere. When the driver assured us that we just had to walk down a long mud path to get there, we were pretty suspicious. We were under the impression that Simonga Village was quite a large, well-known, local village. We reluctantly got off the bus and literally the second we stepped off, the bus whizzed away, leaving us with no chance to turn around and get back on. As Amy and I looked around at the various trees and open grasslands, we heard a massive roar which at first, we assumed must belong to a wild elephant but we later found out that it was actually a cow.. ahem.. In shock we started walking as fast as we could in the direction we had been pointed. We didn’t pass any people or buildings but we did pass a warning sign with pictures of elephants and monkeys. Of course, this led us to presume we were surrounded by hungry lions and so we carried around large sticks, just in case.  After saying about sixty times over “this is definitely not the village”, we arrived at a deserted lodge area where the only two workers assured us that “this is definitely not the village”. We were in fact about 2 km away from the village. The women used our mobile phone to call the son of the head of a closer village (It’s so weird that even in the villages of Zambia, they don’t sell milk but they sell phone credit?!?). He then met us and gave us a little guided tour of his village. Mostly, he just told us which mud huts belonged to his aunts and uncles and he pointed out the hole in the ground which acted as a toilet for the people of the village-so stinky!



Some of the cute kids in the Village



Eventually, after our little detour, we were pointed in the direction of Simonga village and were introduced to a man called Martin who showed us around. If I am completely honest, my view of African life in villages was pretty distorted before we came here.  In fact, my view of Africa in general was pretty stereotypical. In the same way that a lot of people would describe the clichéd view of Americans as being lazy, loud and overweight, I understood the African people to be fairly backwards. I suppose I thought that the men who lived completely off the land here all had several wives, that the women worshipped a different god for every part of nature and that the children were all severely malnourished. I suppose this view came from being given out to as a child as there were “starving children in African who would appreciate that meal” that I wouldn’t finish.  When you watch all those ‘Concern’ ads, you can’t help but get the “poor African Orphans with Swollen bellies” syndrome.







An average Village hut



In reality, the village that we visited was actually a lovely little place. The people are all so friendly and they seemed to all get on very well together. This particular village has a population of about 500 people and so, is pretty much a self-sufficient town. The village has a bar, a school, a pre-school, a village shop and even a clinic. There are a few buildings which are not made of just mud and sticks but all of these have been donated by westerners. The pre-school had a man-made, wooden playground and an interior that would rival any Northern Irish playschool.  The clinic, sadly, had been built by westerners a few years previously but as there were no doctors or nurses, the building remained unused and empty.



The kids following us around Simonga



As we walked around taking everything in, about two dozen children followed us, fighting to hold our hands and chattering away to us in as much English as they could manage. One 11 year old boy even told me of his dreams to go off to university and become a doctor. The day really just made me throw away all the stereotypes I had before.

I have noticed that Zambia is a very Christian nation and people would frown at the thought of someone who doesn’t attend church. Even our children in school get excited about memorising Psalms. Simonga village actually has numerous denominations of Christian churches and even 5 Muslim inhabitants. As such, people here do not all have several wives or do rain dances to make their crops grow. We did notice that a lot of the children’s bellies were quite swollen, but their families do their best to get nutrition into them. They boil nshima on charcoal and cook fish and leaves to the best of their ability without any electricity.

In saying that the village is far more advanced that I had thought it would be, I guess it’s relevant to mention that  it was a railway town and so has had a lot of influence from the ‘Mzungos’. The book I’m reading at the moment is called “Things Fall Apart” and is by a Nigerian author called Chinua Achebe. It’s set in a tribal village around the time that British colonial rule came into place. Reading from the point of view of villager is really making me consider whether it was for the better of African people that their standards of living were improved by colonisation, with the sacrifice of their tradition and culture.

Most of the huts had a seperate kitchen outside where they cook food
on charcoal and eat with their hands on the floor

Altogether, the day just added to our various cultural interactions here. Zambian town life and Zambian Village life are definitely quite different though! I think for now, I prefer being able to bring our materials to a tailor to get dresses made and have lights to turn on at night time, even if there are regular power cuts!