Speechless

"Mr. Daniel, I...and the rest of the class...can not find the words to express to...you...how much we thank you...and have appreciated your time...and energy in teaching us.  We can not thank you enough."

                - DEP student at commencement of Ecology course prior to departing

Were You Lost?

So if at anytime I am not in attendance at the staff lounge for tea and lunch...or if I am missing from my office during a day...or if I am not seen around my house for many of those I am come to be associated with I am 'lost.' Maybe I have been in my office and no one has noticed...maybe I am working from home..maybe I have gone down south to Iganga to do research online for some of my projects...maybe I have simply gone in to Kaliro town to the market or to meet with other members of the community, but nonetheless the sentiment if one has not been seen throughout the day is that they have been lost. Now of course this, as with much of what is said, is of direct translation from the mother tounge spoken here being Lusoga (or if in other language regions the sentiment is similar). Now this does not bother me so much, as one of my colleagues at the college explained to me that the reason why the inquire of my whereabouts is that "You are one of our associates now and we care, so if you were to be away some time, and nobody knows where, they we are concerned." This reasoning is definitely appreciative, but at the same time it makes you have the feeling that you are always being watched, and therefore judged by all those around you, which is likely what is happening. With that, I take the judgmental aspect with a grain of salt and hope for the best that there is more emphasis on the care for my well-being, and this being more of a cultural aspect. Things have been going very well for the most part, and time right now seems to be flying by. Having taught the past few weeks I have taken opportunity this week to attempt to get my house in order some-which really has not happened-especially with the two kittens Gizmo and Virtue (Lisa's) running around with their heads cut off in my house. Today-the reason that I am on the internet now-is that I was to head off to a workshop for Secondary School Teachers of Sciences, put on by the Ministry of Education, on newer and more creative methods of teaching sciences in the schools here. Upon arrival, me and the other volunteer Melissa find ourselves...well...there a bit too late. The fact is this workshop began on the 15th of May, but we just received the information on the 20th, therefore we were rushing to make it for the last few days as it was suppose to end on the 23rd. As we walked in to the room, we were warmly greeted, but the unfortunte sentiments came to us of the cancellation of the workshop. Now let me tell you the frustrations...deep deep frustrations...arose when we were first called out of emergence in the morning of the 20th that we were to be attending this workshop. To think that we are to be attending this workshop-made of of probably 98.7% Ugandan teachers and 1.3% Peace Corps Volunteers-more than middway of its completion is completely ridiculous and disrespectful, so the hesitation and frustration and yes, anger was in full rage in the morning of the 20th. So I tied up loose ends, cleaned up a few things, and this morning woke at approximately 5.45AM, to make my way to Iganga from Kaliro. And that is the reason why you all find me here, writing, because the workshop was cancelled due to lack of funding. Therefore all the teachers who were at this conference left...Majority of the funding that is allocated for these conferences is the travel reimbursement for the teachers who have signed up for the conference. So...Teachers come to this conference...They are not refunded for their travel...The teachers, in dire need of educational teaching-style reform leave...Therefore nothing is changed. So where is the problem? (In regards to the educational system here and its inability to push intellectual thinking out of the box) Is it at the highest body, the Ministry of Education? Is it at the lowest with the students? Could it be the parents? The teachers themselves? Could it be that the core of the syllabi have not been changed for ages in this country, and their style is still reminiscent-in detrimental ways-of the British style of education from the 60s and further ago? All of these to an extent are much of the issues. It is a comprehensive problem where much of us struggle to see an honest change.
I did see the potential for change in the eyes of the students I taught. At the end of my last day of teaching the Diversity of Living Things and Classifcation (covering for a teacher that was not in attendace)-the 7.30Am morning after I was doing expediated lesson planning and note preparation for nearly 9 hours-I was commended in the most amazing way possible. As the students slowly began to exit the classroom-a room walled with cement and roofed with tin and rotting wood-two remained behind, gathering their belongings. Each expressed that they were going to miss me, that the next term they hoped to have me as their instructor and that I helped them very much. Then one, casually flipping through his notes stops, looks me in the eyes and in his broken english says "Mr. Daniel, I...and the rest of the class...can not find the words to express to...you...how much we thank you...and have appreciated your time...and energy in teaching us. We can not thank you enough." The most I could say, as I grew teary-eyed departing to my home was "Thank You," leaving a trail of chalk billowing in my path.

I hope all is well with you all back home! Tonight, I shall spend my time watching the Manchester United v Cheseal Football match, and then return to my modern life of proposal writing, eatching lunch (one of the best parts) in the staff room, and teaching whatever I can find. I love you all and I miss you all. And yeah...GO OB!!!!! OB is what they call Barack here, so yeah, I even have my good ol' American Propoganda in my "Vote Barack" pin on my bag. Peace and love.

Cheers,

Daniel Koza

May Day

I'd like to say that I am filled with unconventional wisdom for the rest of the populace to tap in to; I'd like to imagine myself on stage as the focal point of a hit show; I'd like to believe that each and every star I cast my eyes upon each evening has as solar system of its own not so different from ours, and I choose to have enough confidence in myself to convince myself that the latter are not simply blanket desires, instead reality...
****************

Young boy, I thank you for the biscuit. Where you acquired your manners I do not know. Where you learned to smile on of the most genuine smilse I will never know. But again I thank you, from the bottom of my heart for all that you have done thus far in your short life. You remind me of myself-young and curious in this world-not too many years ago.
-Webale, the young boy said.
-Kale, I say in response, garnering a nervous if not awe-filled laugh from the boy.
Young boy I truly hope you can take this poisoned world and turn it good. The undeserved ignorance that has plagued not only yoru land but many othrse shall be an obstacle not easily overcome, but I can only hope this moment in your life inspires you to know. There is a day in my memory from nearly 20 years ago where I stood, face buried in a rusty chain-linked fence, gazing at airplanes taking off and landing. I was a pre-kindergartener, taking my recess to let my my wander over these large obnoxious machines, rather than partake in a game of four square or kickball. Spurring my curiousity, this catalytical moment has brought me through Australasia and now to Africa. I tell you though, having curiousity is only a piece of the puzzle-let us say merely the endless blue sky of a scenic picture-as searching for the meaning of this curiosity is where this world begins.
-Mpaku Eagle, nnyabo.
-Eagle?
-Yi. Webale.
-Kale.
Letting my own mind wander, staring out this barred canteen window, I find a life that I have simply...

Well my train of thought has been derailed worse than...well I can't think of any well known train derailment, but I assume you understand. Now the cause of this terrible loss in concentraion is due to the canteen owner's young daughter, who no doubt could see me from miles away (well I guess most Ugandans could, because, uhh, I'm white?) has chosen to take any and every effort imagineable to talk to and see me...
-Osibye oty'eyo, I asked.
-Bulungi, responded the young man staring at me from 4 inches away through the barred window. Osibye oty'eyo?
-Bulungi. Jebale I say.
-Kale, wena jebale.
-Kale ssebo.
And yes, you see how no matter how hard one tries to have their own piece of mind (while in public) is I must say a sure failure.

Young boy, you must realise something. Take a look around you. You see the man pulling the goat? The three boda drivers next to the tree? The chickens walking through the bush? You have been privelaged with an incredibly unique life, and you have seen me and with my best hopes wish that you have an eternal line of questions racing through your mind of why or what this muzungu is doing here, and hopefully t6hat is yoru ticket towards fighting ignorance. Run young boy, take your eswiti I gave you and on't change who you are, because yoru mind is so beautiful and open to new and amazing things.

Now Margaret, canteen owner's daughter, I do not even know how to satisfy anything you say...If I teach you something i teach you, if your mind has become corrupt to outsie teaching, especially by the thoughts that muzungus will save the world, then I fear to become a friend. Young boy; canteen owner's daughter; boy who ruined my concentration by starting at me from 4 inches away, just take this with you: To think is to live, to live is to love. And think for yourself and don't let anyone else tell you how or what to think. Believe that you have the ability to change somebody's-anybody's- life, and you shall smile everyday as you do when you see a muzungu.

EAGLE...rain?...maize...EAGLE...Yes, in a nutshell the progression of the past hour, with the whole lot of previous garbage being sandwhiched somewhere in the middle. And yes, it had to only rain for 2 minutes, and I have a full beer now, and all I want to do is go home, light my gas stove, and concoct some dinner involving eggs, cabbage, eggplant and tomatoes. In essence an omelet, but something more interesting is very much desired. But for now, I will struggle through this beer-not because it tastes bad, or because I have had too many or because I have an audience of 7 people watching me (which I do)-but because my simple couch, while listending to Chrias Koza's ne walbum and eating an omelet seems far more appealing. And to that, cheers, so I may take my last sip, and exit this alternate universe of the young boy, boy who ruined my concentration and teh canteen owner's daughter.