24
March
2007
Thanks to YouTube and Brian Hart (my tireless, unpaid webmaster) you can now view some of the videos I have taken in Tanzania. Click on “My Videos” under “Pages” at the top of the links section on the right. For the time being, I have only a video tour of my home at UL Secondary. However, I will be adding several more videos in the coming weeks dating back to my training days in Morogoro. Of course, the videos are short, low-quality pieces using my digital camera. But hey, I’m out in the bush. What do you people want from me?Â
All the best, Dr. Josh
Posted: Uncategorized
14
March
2007
I had the good fortune to run into Josh Stern (to distinguish between us, the other volunteers in our class decided that he’s Karate Josh and I’m Dr. Josh) as well as the other Zanzibar archipelago crew (Jon Thysell, Mike T. and Sarah Springsteen) in Dar, en route to South Africa. Josh’s latest blog has the stranger than fictional account of Popo Bowa, the evil sodomizing Bat Demon that terrorizes the islands and may have possessed one of his students. Anyway, if that’s not enough of a teaser, he’s also got some beautiful pictures of the islands on his site. So, scroll down to the Peace Corps blogs and go take a look yourself.
Posted: Peace Corps Tanzania
12
March
2007
For those of you interested in sending educational materials to the students of UL Secondary, I have compiled a new wish list. Inspired by the practical component in history of science classes at Johns Hopkins, I am requesting astrolabes, telescopes and magnifiers.
These relatively low-cost, easy and inexpensive to ship items, would allow my students to make practical scientific observations first hand. Using their astrolabes to measure the height of tall trees or to chart the position of stars in the night sky; using their Galilean-quality telescopes to draw the surface of the moon or locate the moons of Jupiter; using their magnifiers to draw the cells of plants, insects or their own skin offers a practical component to their education, so far absent. As I teach these students to view science not as a fixed set of knowledge-claims found in textbooks but as a method for organizing and understanding the world around them, these instruments would help to reinforce their lessons by gathering their own information.
These materals can be found at the following websites. However, please drop me an email at josh@joshualevens.com before purchasing and let me know what materials you are interested in sending.
http://www.adlerplanetarium.org/research/history/index.shtml
http://www.starlab.com/prodother.html
http://www.opticsale.com/zhumell-tabletop-30-telescopes.html
http://www.opticsale.com/carsoneverydaymagnifiersds40.html
Thank you for your interest and support!
Posted: Peace Corps Tanzania, Secondary Projects
12
March
2007
Conor Sullivan, a friend and colleague of mine in the southern highlands, asked that I share with you a piece he has written about a particularly memorable incident that occurred during our training back in mid-October. Enjoy!
“Conor’s Adventures in Bongo Flava”
Conor Sullivan
Seldom in one’s life does the opportunity arise to capture one of those ever-elusive “defining moments,” knowing at the time that whatever reckless whims guide our behavior have stumbled onto something truly sublime. Most of the time, we can merely recollect through the hazy shades of memory some period of past time that now seems important through corrected hindsight. Not so long ago, however, at the Morogoro Hotel in Tanzania, East Africa, such an opportunity came my way.
The taxi careened around the rain-carved ruts and furrows which constitute all but a few of what passes for roads here in Tanzania. Heavy rains were wreaking havoc on the red clay roads carving up the surface like the face of Mars. The dead weight of the teenager on my lap was making it hard to breathe as the driver recklessly darted and dodged the trenches in the road on his way to the hotel. The sharp musk of sweaty bodies lay heavy and thick through the air adding to the sensation of weight wedging deeply me into the cracks of my seat. Morogoro cab drivers, virtual magicians of human flesh, can manage to cram 8 or more bodies into a mid-sized coupe. As the taxi slowed, I was greeted by stares from countless numbers of Tanzanians lined up to buy tickets for the annual music festival, coinciding with the Muslim holiday Eid Al Fitr, which this year occurred on the first full moon in October.
It was a circus-like atmosphere as the eight of us flopped, stumbled and cartwheeled out of the taxicab and onto the street, only to be immediately swept into the crowd surging forward towards the narrow opening of the hotel. We tried to lock hands but the force of the crowd soon ripped us apart, separating us for what turned out to be quite a long time.
As the flood of people whirled around the bottleneck opening and became increasingly aggressive, the enormous bouncers armed with nightsticks began lashing out at the encroaching crowd. Barely ten feet in front of me, a giant physical specimen of a concert-goer was cracked across the face, lost consciousness and came crashing down onto two “Angels of the Night” (prostitutes), bringing them down with him. Seconds later, a young daring (if not reckless) teenager was ruthlessly kicked in the stomach for trying to get too close.
At this point I felt as though maybe I had made a mistake. I tried to break free from the whirlpool funneling ever more rapidly into the billy clubs of the angry bouncers, to no avail. I felt suffocated and trapped. The line was no longer a mob of individuals but a bathtub, and somebody had pulled the plug. Another surge from the bodies behind me propelled me towards the 6’5” 300 lb. manimal waving his beating-stick and barking threats at me in Kiswahili. I was preparing to duck, dive, dip, dodge and fall when the bodyguard noticing the one white face in the crowd called, “Hey Mzungu! Kom here.” I apprehensively made my way forward as a bouncer simultaneously grabbed my arm. aking a vicious swing at the crowd behind me, this gi-normous Tanzanian pulled me along with three African girls into the concert.
The stage was a massive wooden monstrosity standing about 10 feet off the ground, about 50 feet long. On both sides giant black speaker boxes towered into the night sky. The speakers silhouetted by a raised DJ stand with turntables, woofers and electronic synthesizers. Six DJs stood before the milling crowd of 8,000 playing various rap and bongo flava tracks. The crowd anxiously awaited the arrival of Nameless, Fid Q and Dully Saks, three Tanzanian Hip-hop artists out of Dar es Salaam on the evening’s playbill. I inhaled the clean, moist African air and headed towards the concessions, hoping to catch up with my friends.
After a long time spent meandering through the crowd without a single Mzungu (white person) in sight, I made my way to the DJ stand. As the concert carried on, with the requisite cheering and screaming for each subsequent performer, I decided to climb up the DJ stand to better survey the crowd. (It seems in retrospect that only Mzungu-privilege let me get away with this.) As I reached the top of the stand, the stage was getting set-up for Dully Saks and one of my favorite songs, “Ridin’ Dirty” ( a song I’d first heard in New York), came over the loudspeaker. Overcome by the spirit of the evening and the thumping of the bass, I started free-style rapping to no one in particular. As the song ended, I noticed that 4 of the 6 six DJs had turned around and were staring at me.
At this point, I half-expected to see another of the ferocious bouncers en route to kick me off the DJ stand. Instead, someone was patting me on the back and asking who I was and if I could do it again. A huge African by the name of Hans (apparently a friend of one of the DJs) kept patting me on the back, repeating “Man! Vizuri sana!” I laughed and said, “If you really like it, put me on stage. I can rap.” With the wild crowd getting jacked up as Dully Saks set up, Hans escorted me from the DJ stand to the stage, leaving me backstage while he talked to the producer. Happy that I’d at least scored a great view from the stage, I started scanning the 8,000+ crowd for my friends.
After a few minutes, Hans returned with the producer JD, a national radio personality synonymous with bongo flava in Tanzania. In perfect English he asked, “Have you ever been on stage before?” After a brief daze, I managed to spit out, “I’ve rapped at parties for my friends.” He stole a hesitating glance at me in all my honkiness and motioned for Hans to follow him. A few minutes later, Hans returned alone and said JD had his doubts but was holding out the possibility. “Are you serious?” he asked me. “Can you do this?” Half-convincing myself, I sputtered out, “Hell yeah, I do this all the time! Just show me the mic.” With that, my new manager left me back stage. As the backstage VIPs eyed me warily, I could hear Dully Saks starting up one of his famous songs, in which he compares a girl to a giraffe. Hans then runs up to me out-of-breath, sporting a toothy-grin. “Are you ready? Because you’re up next!”
Now I have to confess, only at this point did it hit me that I was actually getting on stage to rap in front of 8000 Tanzanian bongo flava fans. I was stunned and scared, wondering why I had such a big mouth. I kept feeling like I was in the movie, “8-Mile,” with Eminem looking over my shoulder. (Incidentally, Eminem was the first rap artist I saw in concert, in Austria when I was 16.) I had one refrain running over and over through my brain: “You’ve got one shot. Listen to the music. One chance, that’s it.” My mouth went dry.
I managed to croak out, “Water? Anybody, um… Maji?” Someone handed me a glass and taking a deep gulp I realized it was Konyagi, a clear alcohol about as refreshing as warm gin. Shaking off the rocketfuel, Hans thrust a glass of water into my hands, saying “Here, take it. Remember Eiddi Wakilisha 2006 (Eid Represent 2006).” Looking out over the lit stage as Dully finished up his song, I felt the rush of adrenalin. I felt chills up and down my spine and started hopping around giving high-fives to the random VIPs backstage and shouting, “This is it; this is it! Are you ready?” At that moment with Dully Saks heading off stage, JD announced to 8,000+ Tanzanians and 4 astonished Peace Corps Volunteers, “UP NEXT, KAAAAAAAAH-NAAAAAAAH!”
I bounded up the ten stairs and was greeted by the bright stage lights as someone handed me a microphone. I didn’t feel strange, scared, happy or even out of place. It just felt like a plan coming together.
I started jumping up and down and tearing across the stage, as the decibel-level swelled. I lost one shoe and then kicked the other off stage, flipping the mic upside down and bellowed, “TAAAAN-ZAAAA-NIII-AAA” in the 4-syllable bass announcement style that I’d heard so many times in concerts before. I then followed Hans’ one piece of advice and followed with, “WAAA-KAAA-LIII-SHAAA” in the same tone. The crowd erupted as I strode across the stage like an old pro, getting down low and slapping hands with the crowd. I was absolutely high.
At this point, JD is DJing my set as I squat down mid-stage and say to the crowd in a slow, deliberate tone, “I don’t know about you guys, but I love Tupac (the crowd goes crazy) Do you love Tupac? (even louder cheering) I bet JD has some Tupac. JD do you have any Tupac? (insanity)” All of a sudden, RRRRRRPPPPP as the track screeches to a halt, interrupted by a Tupac instrumental. The speakers are cranked up so loudly I can only hear my own voice through the monitors. “JD ninakupenda!” Declaring my love for the DJ in my limited Kiswahili send the crowd into further hysterics. With the bass blaring in the background, I launch into the best 3-minute freestyle I’ve ever performed, bobbing and weaving across the stage, before I finish, toss the mic and jump off the stage.
Soon after my set, I was greeted by all of the other artists, invited to a recording studio to lay down some tracks, bought drinks and geneally treated like a famous rap artist. The other volunteers who were instantly promoted to “Friends of the Mzungu Rap Artist” were absolutely shangaa’ed (shocked). They explained how during my set, the audience backed away from them, creating a kind of Mzungu Isle in the crowd. They just kept repeating to me, ”Unbelievable man, unbelievable.”
A few days later, JD talked about my performance on the radio, referring to me as a “rap artist” and “musical genius.” I have continued to meet Tanzanians who saw me that night, sometimes spontaneously rapping me their own songs. I’m still waiting to see the videotape of the show that JD’s holding for me in Dar – to be able to show all of you as well as make it seem real, even to myself.
Posted: Tanzanian Society & Culture
5
March
2007
Unfortunately, I am taking a brief hiatus from my work at UL Secondary. A nasty spill on my bike has left me with a fractured left clavicle and an upcoming trip to South Africa for surgery.Â
Posted: Personal
2
March
2007
In case y’all haven’t noticed, I have added a new Peace Corps blog link: Tait Davidson. She’s a second-year health volunteer (looking to extend to a 3rd) living in the city-of-dreams as she calls her little cross-roads here in the southern highlands. She’s also what we call a “rock-star volunteer” so check out her site for material on girls’ empowerment and original research on Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVCs in the Peace Corps lingo). So scroll on down the right side and look her up along with the other bloggers from my training class.
Posted: Peace Corps Tanzania
2
March
2007
On a personal note, I just wanted to share with you the details of my first site visit to see another volunteer. Jason Maglaughlin, who although currently back home state-side is an environmental volunteer in a beautiful undisclosed location village, 15 km. away by rough road from UL Secondary. Although not a long bike ride, the road quality certainly makes it a tough one nonetheless. If it is at all possible that my village be considered a main drag (truly a matter of perspective), Jason’s site is still off-the-beaten path. The tea trucks make the trek, but passenger buses (also a term here that is a matter of perspective) do not. You can hire a car to take you, but if it’s raining hard you can consider the road impassible. En route, however, is among the most beautiful scenery I have so far seen in-country. Thick pine and cypress forests (in the places where it’s not being chopped down at an alarming rate) are home to troops of both baboons and colobus monkeys. The rolling hilly landscape is similar to that at my site with the exception that less of the land is being farmed an more remains wild (although, that too, is evidently changing as “development” makes its way through the southern highlands).
After reaching Undisclosed Location II, I got a chance to see what these ‘mentals (environmental volunteers) do all day. The massive front and back gardens were irrigated by a gutter and ditch system from the house, as was the concrete water tank. There was also a greenhouse and a tree nursery. I ate peppers, lettuce, carrots, cucumber, fruit and herbs, all fresh from the garden. I had salad, stir-fry, guacamole and omelets – not bad for the bush! The morning of the next day was spent playing with the kids at the primary school: Red-Rover, American football and a Tanzanian game called Children & Lions or something like that.
Afterwards I had the chance to explore the surrounding environment, bush-whacking through the vegetation with Jason, his good friend Roma and one of the Form I students at my school named Amani. We saw twin hidden waterfalls sharing a rockface with a small cave inhabited by some highly territorial songbirds. We crossed another waterfall by walking across the tree canopy. By another hidden waterfall, standing on river rocks, we ate wild passionfruit growing on the surrounding vines.
I am still waiting for Jason to email me the pictures so I can post them. Those of you who can, you should come see all of this for yourself. For those who cannot, this should at least serve as convincing enough evidence that living out beyond electricity and running water has its own particular benefits.
Posted: Village Life
2
March
2007
I have already alluded to the first of my proposed secondary projects at UL Secondary. When the doors of the school were opened to the returning students, I was thrilled to discover not only that there was a library present (my previous school in Morogoro had books in storage but no library) but that it was well stocked (all things considered) and attractively decorated with mathematical shapes and terms, points of grammar, and other various interesting factoids painted on the interior walls. Moreover, one of the teachers is designated as the library matron and I found the room virtually always open prior to the official start of classes.
It soon became clear, however, that the library faced several logistical problems in terms of usage. In the hours during and immediately after school, the times during which the library is usually although not always open, the students are kept busy by classes, meals and mandatory after-school chores. In the evening hours between 7-10 pm however, when the boarding students have mandatory study hours in their solar-power lit classrooms, the library was always dark and locked. The school had plenty of books, plenty of students without books, and yet the two were failing to get together.
Part I of my library project has involved simply putting the students together with the books. I began by loaning out my own books to the classes during study hours. I then asked the headmaster to get a new lock for the library, so that both the library matron and I would be able to open the place up. Ever since, I have gone to the library at 7 pm with some flashlights and a few selected student librarians to choose books for the classes. We make a count and I then return at 9:45 and have the librarians restock the shelves. Other than bringing the keys, the students have no taken over the work of selecting, distributing and reshelving the books, as well as taking requests from their classmates for new materials. As a library geek myself from a young age (skipping recess to look up the names of Greek gods, hieroglyphic letters or simply dirty words in 2nd grade) it gives me a thrill to watch these kids unapologetically “geek-out” over geography, history and biology books. “Check this one out! Yes!!” they whisper to each other in hushed excited tones by the light of a single flashlight.
Unfortunately, in year’s previous, students had been entrusted with the library keys and books started disappearing. So, the faculty are understandably reluctant to go down that road again. However, as long as I am overseeing the process, there are no problems. Nevertheless, I will not always be there and this is a project that needs to be made sustainable. On this subject, I have a few ideas. For one, the weekly teacher-on-duty is supposed to be available in the evening hours to handle any student emergencies. (During my duty last week, I trekked off campus for about 35 minutes to the health center with a sick student sitting on a bicycle and 10 healthy students in tow during the middle of the night.) I am therefore going to propose that the library work be eventually delegated to the weekly teacher-on-duty. However, simply adding an extra demand to the already busy teachers is not the ideal way to proceed. I’m therefore thinking of incentives, the use of positive reinforcement. On this score, I am hoping to raise money for solar lighting in the library and (hope against hope) for a panel and battery strong enough to support a single computer (along with a minimum 4 tube-lights). With an evening-lit library containing a computer, this would soon become a popular evening office for the teachers. Since most teachers do not have solar power in their homes and none has a computer, this resource could ensure that teachers were always available in the evening hours to check out books to students (even if they just used the computer to watch DVDs!) Of course, the introduction of even a single computer could have tremendous benefits for the functioning of the school, if it were accompanied with proper training. On this latter point, I have begun riding my bike an hour out of the village once a week to a business with electricity and internet access, both for my own work and for teacher training. So far, one teacher has joined me, to learn more about computers and has said he could imagine coming every week. Little by little, I hope to start training the personnel necessary to justify the expense of a computer (making sure it gets used for something other than games and movies).To be fair, of course, even using a computer as a high priced DVD player has plenty of educational possibilities as well.
For now, however, I continue to use my flashlight and my own time to make sure the kids have access to their school’s own books. And frankly, that alone makes it a worthwhile project in my eyes.
Posted: Secondary Projects
