Dar es Salaam,
Tanzania
Sunday, October 21, 2007
As my dear friend Mitch would put it, I am going batshit insane. Classes here are going to kill me. They are absolutely ridiculous. I can't handle it. I try to put it into perspective. I mean if everyone in the US had to attend college taught in Spanish, but English was our first language, the education scene would be a lot different. And I also realize that I am at an absolutely gigantic university, so naturally I won't get the same intimate type discussion that I am used to in PLU classes. I am just really frustrated. While the professors are actually showing up to most lectures now, I still don't learn anything. My classes (except for intro to dance) all have over two hundred people in them. The professors mumble and don't know how to use microphones correctly. My African Political Thought prof likes to tell everyone that we still lynch black people in America for fun. It takes a whole class period to get across that in negotiation, there are two parties involved, but in mediation there is a neutral third party. You would think that if it took a whole class period to explain that concept that there would have been lots of interesting examples of negotiation vs. mediation. You would be wrong. It was a whole hour of repeating that concept, but changing the wording ever so slightly each time. That's Peace Making and Conflict Resolution, which should be a great class. But it isn't. We never get anything accomplished. And then there are seminars. Good lord. The structure for classes here is that you have two lectures a week and then a seminar period which is supposed to be smaller to create room for discussion. Except there are still about fifty people in each seminar group, so even if everyone got a chance to talk, it would only be for about a minute and nothing would still get accomplished. And nothing gets accomplished anyway because of how seminars are run. There are small groups (ranging from two to ten people) who get a seminar question. They research the question and write a paper on it and then present to the class and are supposed to facilitate discussion. However, most of the seminar presentations I have pleasured witnessing end up just reading a seven page paper start to finish in a voice that is barely above a whisper. So I can't understand enough of the presentation to ask any questions which I guess is everybody else's excuse too because the questions that get asked are ridiculous. I can't think of any good examples right now because I just came from my seminar group meeting and I'm a little ticked off. They talked in Swahili the whole time, which I understand. Again I wouldn't want to speak in Spanish outside of class if the rest of the people in my group were native English speakers. However, I informed everyone that I only understand a little Swahili and only when it is spoken slowly. Regardless of this information, they would talk at very high speeds, laugh and point at me, and then ask me what I thought of the discussion. I haven't the foggiest. So they'd laugh and point at me again, and then talk really fast. And then they would ask me questions about the structure of the paper, which I could actually help with. For instance, they asked if looting, plundering, and piracy should all be separate points. No, I told them. Looting and plundering should be one point; piracy should be an example of that point. Ah then grave robbing could be its own point. No. Grave robbing is a form of plundering. Really? Well maybe we'll make it its own point anyway. And then I am informed that two of the guys are going to write the whole paper and tomorrow we are going to get together and see if it needs to be changed. What the hell was the point of the two hours I just spent listening to Swahili I didn't understand? No point. Whatsoever. I offered to type the paper so hopefully I can do that and correct spelling errors and such. For the longest time (when they were talking in English by some chance) they kept asking if I knew a word that to me sounded like intamboment. I asked if they could write it down (giggling ensued). Entomboment. I still didn't get it. More giggles. I asked them to explain it. You know its when you bury a king. Ah yes. Entombment. No o. Again, I realize that this is not their first language. It is just really, really, really, really, frustrating. And then one of the guys in my group tries to be helpful, but his version of being helpful is hitting on me.
I am so sick of the guys here. We were at a party last night put on by the faculty of arts and social sciences. I have never been around so many drunk and desperate men in my life. I had one of Caroline's silver rings on my ring finger. Sometimes that worked. I basically punched one guy in the stomach because he kept grabbing my wrists and pulling me into dance with him when I really didn't want to. He was only like five foot, too. I could have just sat on him. Finally, Brice's roommate Benson pulled me away and put his arm protectively around me and gave the guy a really dirty look. So I guess I'm not sick of all the guys here. Benson's pretty cool. He kept telling everyone to respect his American sisters. I just wish people would ignore me. In the US, guys would almost never come up to a girl and be like "Hellowhatisyourphonenumber" all in the same breath. And if they did, I'm pretty sure any girl would say weirdo and walk off. I want to go back to a land where I can just be friends with guys. That would be nice. I am tired of explaining why I won't give a guy my phone number. I am tired of seeming like a bitch when I don't answer when guys ask me questions about myself. I am tired of suppressing myself in general actually. Girls are supposed to be so demure or something here. I'm not demure. I am loud and sarcastic. I like baseball. I have a concept of personal space. I miss my freedom of being to go places by myself, especially at night. I have had three dreams of I-5 and one dream of I-90 in the past month which I think explains how much I miss my car and the freedom that gives me. I just want to be me, and it is hard here. And gosh darn it, I want to not sweat.
Alright. Enough of my complaining. I really am enjoying myself here. It is not like I want to catch the next flight back to SeaTac or anything. It is mainly campus life that gets me down, so I try not to spend too much time on campus. I love going into town and exploring Dar. I love traveling on the weekends. I have heard that Tanzanians are super nice, except for the ones in Dar, and I'm starting to believe it. When we go traveling, people bend over backwards to help us find where we need to be, or find a good restaurant to eat at. You ask somebody a question in Dar, half the time you just get a weird look and a short answer. We went to Iringa a couple weekends ago, and I haven't felt that welcomed since we were on Rubondo. It was a very pretty town and I want to go back there really bad. Maybe in December. Iringa is in the mountains so it doesn't get as hot. By December, Dar is going to be an oven.
