Hello Friends and Family,

“Some days are diamonds; some days are stones…” I’ve had this line running
through my head this week, but can’t quite place it. I think it’s from an
80s song… I’d google it, but don’t have internet access. Any thoughts?

At any rate, that statement pretty much sums up my week: “Some days are
diamonds; some days are stones.” As much as kids here value education, they
are still adolescents and can be quite a handful at times. There are 50-60
students in each class (a.k.a. form) and they are all at different levels in
their ability to communicate in English. Just when I think I’m starting to
get a handle on teaching them, things change.

The beginning of the week always seems to be the most difficult for me. This
Monday, for example, I walked into class only to discover that I’d “lost”
half of my Form 2B students (they were moved to Form 2A) and gained
approximately 20 new students from Form 1. Great. Thanks for the warning. (I
do, however, have advanced warning that classes will be changing again next
month after examinations. Good to know.)

When I came here, Jessica (my fellow American teacher) told me, “Yeah,
pretty much the only thing you can count on around here is change.” Somehow
cognitive assent to this fact did not do much to prepare me for the utter
frustration of the reality. Only in Africa, I think, will my lesson plan
book include notes and remarks such as, “Bible - Form 3B: Class not present”
and “English - Form 1B: Mr. Kasavaga teaching History during my period”.

In addition to the constant changes among the student body, there are also
changes taking place among the faculty. This week we said goodbye to three
teachers who left to continue their own education, and welcomed two new
teachers (although one is only here for a few weeks - he’s filling in while
on break from the University). The fun never ends.

Right now it’s Friday evening, 7pm (though this email will not be sent until
tomorrow). I’m sitting here on my porch, writing and reflecting while the
sun is setting in the background. School is finished for the week. All is at
rest. Tomorrow some students will be coming over and we will attempt to make
jam together. Perhaps Jeff, another American teacher, will come to visit
from Madisi and *hopefully/possibly* have some computer advice re: how I can
access my email. (I’m learning that things rarely happen in a timely manner
around here!) On Sunday I will visit a Lutheran church and feel like I am in
the middle of an African Children’s Choir concert. On Monday, another week
of school will commence; I will begin teaching an after-school “Pre-Form
English” class, which will hopefully help some of my students catch up. But
today, today is Friday. And for now, I’m quite content to be still and watch
the sun set.

I hope you all are well. Before I left the States I came across a song
(”Tanzania” by Ali Rogers) that struck a chord (no pun intended) in my
heart. One line in particular sticks out in my mind: “It’s hard to be a
mother and it’s hard to be a woman and it’s hard to live in Africa
sometimes. It’s hard to be a mother and it’s hard to be a woman and it’s
hard to live in America sometimes.” Certainly, we all have “stone days” no
matter where we are living. Grace and peace to you as you travel on this
journey.

Much Love,
Jen

Hello Friends and Family,

How are you? It’s chilly here (in the 60s), but not as cold as in the
Northeast (where many of you are located)! Hope you’re surviving the winter.
I am still unable to access my email, but I’m hopeful that I will be able to
get it in the near future. In the meantime, I’m thankful that I can at least
send updates from my friends account. Ulrichs and Sarah, thanks so much for
your letters. I received them not long ago. It was soooo good to hear from
you!

On my first day of teaching I had my students fill out 3X5 cards with their
names on one side and future plans on the other. (Great idea, Amy. Thanks!)
Here are some of the responses I received:
When I finish school I want to be…
…a teacher
…a doctor
…a nurse
…engineering
…a pilot
…president of our country of Tanzania
…a designer of computer
…prime minister
These are my students - the future teachers, medical providers, engineers,
pilots, political and religious leaders of Tanzania. I am continually
impressed with the hunger to learn displayed among these kids. Education is
their ticket to a better life, and they know it.

Earlier this week I walked home from the market with one of my students,
Tatu. As we chatted, I learned that both of Tatu’s parents are dead; her
uncle is supporting her and helping pay for her education. Bereft of an
adequate response to what she shared, I offered a heartfelt “pole, pole”
(I’m very sorry) and continued in simple English. “You must miss them…Do
you feel alone sometimes?” As we continued down the road, I shared,
“Sometimes I miss my parents too, because they live very far away in North
America…Sometimes I feel alone…But it helps me to know that Jesus is
always with me and he will never leave me alone, no matter where I go.” “Oh,
yes!” Tatu enthusiastically agreed. In broken English she expressed that she
knows God is with her and cares for her because she is able to go to school.
No embellishment here - that’s literally what she communicated.

I think if I were in Tatu’s shoes, my response might be quite different. It
would probably be more along the lines of anger and questioning/blaming God
for allowing my parents to die. But in Tatu’s mind, the opportunity to get
education was a tangible expression of God’s love and care for her. Wow.

Jesus was all about life - spiritual and physical life. Certainly, the two
were inextricably linked in his mind. In his book, Rumors of Another World,
Philip Yancey writes, “Why should anyone look forward to a better life
without experiencing at least clues of it here?” He goes on to reflect on
his own spiritual journey, “My attitude turned from dividing life into
natural and supernatural, or spiritual and unspiritual, and instead I sought
a way to combine the two, to bring about the unity that, as I increasingly
believed, God intended.” I think Tatu’s story is a great example of this
“connected view of life” to which Yancey refers.

I love you all! Thanks for your love and prayers.
With Gratitude,
Jen

I feel like I’ve often directly and indirectly been taught to pity people in Africa – they’re poor, the kids are in rags, food is scarce, they live in shacks… And yes, by Western standards all of this is often true. But rarely have I been taught about the beauty and richness found in life here. As I reflect on some of the values that I see displayed in this culture, I am moved by a desire to incorporate these virtues into my own life.

I hope I live a life of hospitality wherever I am.
Here, the door is always open; there’s always room for one more; the visitor’s presence alone is valued (even above conversation!)

I hope I maintain a lifestyle of simplicity:
I love the nighttime conversations Jessica (other U.S. teacher) and I have by candlelight because there is no electricity here.
Walking everywhere because I don’t have a vehicle allows me the opportunity to greet people as I pass by and relish the beauty of the natural world that surrounds me.
Getting ready in the morning is not terribly stressful because I only have a handful of outfits to choose from.
There’s something to be said for simplicity.
(Though I must admit, I really hope I’m able to check my email soon!)

I hope I live in the present continuous tense:
The present continuous tense if made from the present tense of the verb TO BE with the ing form of the verb. It describes the present moment NOW.

I am living in Tanzania.
I am teaching English at Sawala Secondary School.
I am writing a letter to my friends and family.
I am learning to live in the present continuous tense.

Here buying large amounts of food in advance (with the exception of basic staples such as rice, oil, flour, sugar, beans etc.) is pointless because it is difficult to preserve, so we literally often daily purchase “our daily bread”. Also, mundane tasks such as washing laundry, dishes, fetching water, cooking etc. are incredibly time consuming, so people seem to learn to find “glory in the grey” of everyday life.
There is something to be said for planning ahead, but I think Jesus was on to something when he said, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Before I left the States, a friend who worked in Africa for years told me, “This [time in Africa] is going to change you.” I hope it does.