Farkwa, Tanzania, Tuesday September 23rd

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Madam Simbee was not in evidence when I arrived, so I went to the Form 4 class to find her. Mr Chalala was taking a session in which he went over exam questions that had been incorrectly answered on the mock examination. As soon as he saw me, he said that he would continue at another time because he knew that Madam Simbee and I had planned some interesting sessions for the students. Every time I meet Mr Chalala, I am struck by his humble nature and the fact that he does not stand on his position with us. He addressed the students in a soft and courteous manner, and handed over to me.

Later I was amazed at how I just got on with things, introducing the task and explaining how making a plan, rather than just writing to a formula, will help them to achieve a good essay structure that makes sense. The plan would also be useful for flagging the spots at which each of the digital photos would be shown. A student had gone over to Madam Simbee’s house to let her know that I was there, and she arrived in time for the planning lesson, just after I had taught everyone how to use my digital camera. I had not given any thought to using it with the students, but the reality of having only one camera in the time we had, forced my hand.The decision made and the introductions given, it was full steam ahead. Or so I thought. In fact, the idea of planning a piece of writing, of giving information as well as personal interests and opinions and including cues for photos, was different enough to need lots of individual assistance. While I did that, Madam Simbee was accessing items for costumes for the photos. This included a whole set of real weapons, a sack of maize, hoes, football and netball outfits and balls and many kangas (lengths of fabric) to be draped in many different ways.

My idea of each student working on their writing until a camera was brought back in for the next person to use, had not taken into account the magic that a digital camera provides if you have never used one, or any other sort of camera, before. Add to that the excitement and fun of all the dressing up and posing for scenes – suddenly I realised that there was no-one inside writing! With the students we knew not where, with lots of dangerous items and both our digital cameras, Madam Simbee suggested that we take a rest and eat some boiled eggs and peanuts! So off we went and left them to it. This was very different to the thousand requirements of student supervision in the primary schools that I have taught in, in Australia.

The projects and planning for the photos had required lots of talking for a real purpose, and all shyness had been forgotten in the excitement over discussing the proposed photos and the texts. Madam Simbee was right into this activity, and commented on how such activities promote a different kind of relationship with the students. To some extent the students were running blind, since they only had my version of what the final presentations could be like, the computer and camera being entirely new to them.

The Form 3 project was similar, but we realised that we could not possibly fit in individual projects for all the forms while I was there, and so asked them to work in groups. They were to produce a short text matching their photos that I could type onto a slide show – to introduce the students and Madam Simbee to that format. Their topic of ‘Life in Farkwa’ would be one that would encourage looking at aspects of their lives that would be interesting to someone from another country.

Back to Form 4 to check on the progress with photos and who needs more props, and then the new teacher, having arrived at the school at last, came in for his timetabled lesson. He offered to let me continue but I didn’t want to disrupt his start with his new students, and it was 12.30. I left my camera for the students to use in the time after lunch and went home.

I had forgotten to ask Keith for the key again. It was one of the contradictions of Farkwa that, in a small place where everyone knew everyone, the washing had to be brought in before dark so it wouldn’t be stolen, and that not only the outside doors of the house were locked but the inside ones were too if the person was not home.

At the political meeting I had met the Primary School Head Teacher, and he had warmly invited me to visit his school. A message had been received via Ticha that today would be the day. I was interested to see the school, being a primary school teacher myself, and also to learn about the school that Freddy and Pius, Ticha’s older sons from a previous relationship, had been attending. They would be moving to Australia to live with Rosie and Ticha, and big changes and challenges lay in store for them.

The Primary School is up a long drive, with teachers’ residences along it. The students were outside but no teachers were in sight, and there was a general twittering like sparrows, as is universal with young children. A teacher emerged and guided me to the Head Teacher’s office. We chatted for a while about the school, which was started in 1945. Students begin at seven years, and pass through the streams 1 – 7, finishing at around 14 years. There is an exam at the end and not everyone passes and not everyone who does is able to go on to secondary school, often for financial or helping the family reasons. In theory each stream should have 40 – 45 students with a teacher, but in reality there can be 60 – 90 in a group. The students have academic classes from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m., followed by timetabled outside activities. Today they were doing tasks to take care of the environment - cleaning the yard and fetching water, as the timetabled playing time had been swapped because the balls were in bad repair.

I was struck by the professionalism and real dedication to the students that the Head Teacher showed. It was not in a PR way, but in his awareness of the realities of life for children here and in his willingness to consider how best to help individuals. His conversation was peppered with hopes for improvements. The provision of lunch at the primary school is supported by a World Vision Australia project, making a third Australian link to education here. Ticha’s sister, Inyasia, is one of the cooks.

While I had been welcomed and our talk had been very interesting, I sensed some reservations for the idea of me coming in to visit an English class. All the classes except English are taught in Swahili. Some teachers were called over to meet me, with a stilted greeting session in Swahili with a couple, and a few English greetings and exchange of thoughts on what lay ahead of Pius, with the English teacher. After they left, we arranged that if there was a time that I could come in, and if the teacher felt comfortable, the Head Teacher would let me know. I was not surprised when I didn’t ever hear back. I could well imagine how the teacher might feel if a person fluent in English came into her lesson, and particularly if that person was a teacher with university qualifications. The Head Teacher had asked me about primary teacher training in Australia, and had been struck by the contrast to here, where teacher training can be started after form four.

My visit to the World Vision office further down the hill was a fizzer, with no-one answering the door, despite locals telling me that the workers had been seen only that morning.

While I was rambling around the village, it occurred to me that to a great extent, I had an advantage over Keith in learning about life in Farkwa. I was constantly talking with students, both at school and as they escorted me up and down the hill. I also shared more life with Rosie and the family in the afternoons, and here I was, out and about finding out more on my own. Every day Keith spent most of his time in the office, always working on teaching the computer, and now he had started returning well after school finished for the day. He and the key had not returned as the sun started to drop, so I borrowed some toiletries from Rosie and pannikined half a bucket of water out of the tank for a wash.

I learnt a new method of tossing the rice up and down in a basket to rid it of stones from Inyasia. Finally Keith arrived and had a brief and refreshing wash himself. The heat here is dry and not draining for us. After tea we looked at the photos taken at school. Our computer battery was flat and we both needed to work on the computers at night – me to prepare for the student projects with typing and filing photos for Madam Simbee to use to make slide shows, and Keith for saving Rosie’s and our photos and to prepare for his sessions with the unfamiliar programs.

It was frustrating to have a DC converter instead of an inverter producing AC power from the school’s new solar panel, and now that Keith was at school all day, it was not so easy to get to the mission to charge our computer battery. Necessity being the mother of invention, he came up with a way to connect our computer to the solar panel. It meant that from now on, our computer could be used until the battery ran out while, at the same time, the school computer ran on the solar power and its battery was charged up. The changeover would then be made, with a precarious makeshift arrangement with scraps of wire to power our computer while the school computer ran on its battery.

Rosie returned from the Mission where she had been going over scholarship boarding costs. Father Godi had raised the question of medical costs, which in the past year have included taking a student to hospital and paying for her treatment and medications at the Mission’s expense. It is tricky to draw a line for the scholarships, since some parents are willing to abdicate all financial responsibility for their children and others really do not have the money. If the child was at home, they would have had a rest and perhaps some local traditional medicines.

Father Godi was off to Kondoa for a few days and, since he may not be back before we leave, we went over to say ‘Goodbye’. He showed us his office and the old ledger that bears the names of everyone baptised in the parish. He showed us how long term use has damaged it and suggested that there would be advantages in having a computer for easy access to the records, and how, if the mission could acquire a computer, someone could be trained in touch typing to copy the records. Everything he said is true, but I was adamant that, for records such as this, a paper version needs to continue to be kept. I am not very ‘au fait’ with papal infallibility, but I certainly know a lot about computer fallibility. We exchanged contact details, and the hope that we will meet again.

The evening was quiet at home, after a day when there had been very noisy periods. The family had provided an alcohol inducement for people to help with collecting rocks from the bush to form the base of the floor for the new house. Men and women had carried rocks on their heads and left them in a heap beside the end wall.

As the day had worn on, the volume during the gradually more frequent break times, had increased. A woman had greeted me, and asked me if I wanted to take a photo, but I couldn’t since my camera was at school being used by students. Rosie said that in such situations she usually stays clear, since people can become a bit silly and they make comments in Sandawe that she can’t understand. The Sandawe language is the mother tongue of the people here, and includes clicks. It is very hard to pick up, and virtually impossible for me, although Fidelisi keeps trying to teach me words.

Later in the day, a woman, who is apparently drunk all the time and not just on this occasion, was all over Rosie and me, and not in any way inclined to go home. Her husband finally led her off, a man who is reputed to have beaten this wife each Sunday while others watched as entertainment. Wise people hide their alcohol when this woman appears.

We talked about the challenges ahead for Freddy and Pius, and for them all as a newly formed full time family unit. Freddy and Pius are excellent child minders and the boys are happy to be with them. On the whole, Freddy and Pius spend little time with Ticha and Rosie here, and are still in the pattern of life they are used to with their grandparents. They are very responsible and lovely boys, and we all feel that they will have the right attributes to settle in to school once they are in Australia. We discussed the different stages that they might pass through, and the support that they will need, not only in the exciting initial stages, but as time goes by. Rosie has decided that this can be Pius’s last week at school, and that he can spend his last days working through his farewells.