Water Education

I could blog about so many things. I had the opportunity to spend six months in Tanzania, just miles away from the area of our Otho Abwao project, yet every day of this trip was new, exciting, and of course challenging. I could blog about insects alone. Like the inchworm in my salad, which I had to befriend in order to mentally finish my meal, or the cockroach that ran across my pillow while I slept (I’m convinced it was able to fly), or the termite which I ate out of my own free will. . . even if I did have to pick off the legs and head to convince myself to taste it. I could do an entire blog about transportation. Or the feeling of sharing such an intense culture experience with someone that was quite unfamiliar with the place and that I hardly knew. Or the feeling of returning home to remember that home is a place where I feel quite foreign and where the things that I’m passionate about and have grown so fond of can be understood by so few. But I think, for the sake of sharing the project, I will blog about the Adult Education program we conducted.

It was the morning that the main group left. The atmosphere quite changes when the visitors dwindle from 9 to 2 (just Mike and me) and the big van is seen exiting on the “main” road. We first conducted an education program for the children. The primary school was split up into groups of two so that we first did graded 4-7, and then did grades 1-3. It was focused around bacteria, with some pictures I found on the internet, and keeping those bacteria out of your body. We had a picture of sand under a microscope to present the concept of seeing things that are really small. And we struggled with the fact that bacteria, translated to local language, is the same word as dirt. I was a bit concerned about our success, but based on the questions that were asked, the students definitely understood the concepts. We kept it short, to maximize attention, and had time left over to wander around the community and simply be observant before the Adult Education program. We looked at eroded places and paths, we compared different bricks and rocks in the fancy abandoned house next to our tanks, we looked at the plants, and we untangled a goat from his rope.

When it was nearly time for the Adult Program, we reviewed the material and posted our big notebook to a tree, as the format was going to be group discussion. The best English speaker in town had gone to the city, and her cook name Judy, who was the next hope as a translator, began bringing out chairs. I offered to help, and she hesitated, but did not say no, so I followed her to the school to collect benches. But it became apparent, for reasons I can’t know for sure, that it was definitely not acceptable for me to help carry the benches. So after the first batch, I re-reviewed my notes and prepared myself. Both Mike and I sat down and greeted people as they arrived, which I think really helped the atmosphere of the workshop. As nearly only women were showing up, I asked Judy if it was intended for women only, and if so, was it alright if Mike was around. She said it would absolutely be alright, and would not bother the women. Not to mention a few men didn’t get the memo, and hung around anyway.

Nearly an hour after the meeting was scheduled to start, the rate of people arriving dwindled, and we decided it would be a good time to start. As well, the woman had returned from the city and was able to translate for us. We had two main points, 1) keep the clean water clean, and 2) make sure the clean water is the only water that you and your family drink. The community was encouraged to brainstorm on how to make sure each of those happened. For the first point, everyone contributed great ideas, and I followed up with the few that were left out. They agreed that each change was easy enough to make, and they recognized the value it had for the family. On the second point, about all that could be brainstormed was to carry a water bottle. This got quite a bit of laughs, of which, I could not quite understand or get translation. I wondered if it was the fact that only the mzungu, or westerner, does carries a water bottle or if its really ridiculous to think that they can’t go a few hours without water, or if they have some preconceived notion about their immune system that causes them to laugh. Yet with no explanation for the chuckles, I had to continue on and ensure that the solution was acceptable. We then allowed for questions and received endless thanks. One woman, who mentioned that she had the tap in her yard, brought a dried gourd to give to us, and told us we could drink porridge with it. She seemed more thrilled with the opportunity to come up and thank us, than to actually give us something, which I was grateful for because I knew I couldn’t say no to the gift. It felt as though they didn’t want the workshop to be over, because after all the thank yous had been done, no one moved. All I could do was wish that I spoke the language better.