Loving and Living Life in Mlali
While coming home from a work friend’s pre-wedding send-off party with my host mom almost two weeks ago, our motorcycle skidded on the sand in the dark and fell over.
While that sentence in and of itself might be alarming, the fact that I was in that situation at all just serves as a testament to the relationships I’ve built here (and the biggest casualty of the fall was one of the motorcycle’s mirrors, so no harm done). My relationship with Jane, QEA’s amazing Standard 2 teacher, is strong enough for her to have invited me to her send-off party, a very important wedding tradition for Tanzanian brides. My relationship with host mom Mama Faith is strong enough for us to communicate despite our language barrier, and strong enough for us to laugh together about our motorcycle mishap. My relationships with all of my host family members — especially the kids — are strong enough for me to feel like I’m part of the family. Thinking about it over the past week has helped me appreciate how far I’ve come since I arrived in Mlali, just over a month ago.
At first, some of the frustrations that I mentioned in my last blog post were still present. My Swahili was still progressing more slowly than I wanted, in a village where almost no one speaks English (the QEA teachers are a welcome exception). And since my arrival in Mlali was delayed by a sudden loss in the Sekwiha family, I felt slightly frantic. I wanted to just jump into working as quickly as possible, but Mlali’s polepole lifestyle threw me for a bit of a loop. Polepole means “slowly”, and is used to describe the fluidity of time and the unhurried pace that most people here have. So polepole. At first, I kept having to remind myself. I had to settle in and observe before I could start contributing to projects. So I spent time just falling in love with Mlali.
The first thing that struck me was the landscape. On Long Island, there’s an abundance of beautiful views of the water, but I’ve never lived so close to mountains, or been able to look out and see so for so many miles. No pictures do Mlali justice (though it hasn’t stopped me from trying). Below the mountain that QEA sits on, the expanse of flat grassy plains gives way to slightly hazy mountains in the far distance, and the sky is tall and endlessly blue. The thin cloud cover during my morning walks to school is pierced by visible rays of sunlight streaming down. In the afternoon, the clouds give way to bright, hot sunlight that magnifies the greens of the banana trees and the terra-cotta color of the dirt. When I’m lucky enough to catch more than a glimpse of the sunset, I’m struck by the vibrancy of the colors before they disappear behind the mountains. At night, there are hundreds of stars in the sky, shockingly bright and close between the trees at the Sekwiha compound.
Falling in love with QEA happened just as quickly as falling in love with the landscape did. The minute I drove up with host dad Athanas on his pikipiki, or motorcycle, I was hooked. I knew a lot about the school and its work already, but being able to see it in practice far surpasses rereading former advocate Jess’s amazing blog posts and scrolling through her Instagram. The outside walls are dotted with hand-painted murals, and at break times the kids run all around, shouting and playing and waving at me as I walk by. The door to the office is always open, and the teachers are unfailingly welcoming. Sitting outside the office with one or two teachers has become one of my favorite afternoon activities, whether we’re getting to know each other, discussing our respective countries, or just admiring the view.
The relationships at QEA are also incredibly special. The teachers and students genuinely like each other. The small school atmosphere, with 13 teachers and 165 students, means that there are close relationships among the staff, among the students, and between the two groups. Teachers often spend their breaks helping each other grade exams, prepare lesson plans, and translate lessons into English. The teachers and students respect each other, and are mutually invested in the students’ education.
This collaborative attitude is certainly effective — in mock exams, QEA’s Standard 7 students were the highest-scoring in the Mlali ward and fourth-highest of 107 schools in the Kongwa district.
Much of the past few weeks have been dedicated to preparing Standard 7 for the national exams. These exams are crucial — the students cannot continue onto secondary school unless they pass. Despite the high stakes, the students seemed to take it all in stride, chatting and joking with their teachers as they asked them questions in the brief breaks between lessons. They even forewent their afternoon break a few times to continue a lesson or conversation with a teacher. Their science teacher, Baraka, often stayed late after his lessons with them, for student-led Q&A sessions that were punctuated with laughter.
But no matter what, when a teacher entered the room, the class stood to greet them. To my surprise, I was extended the same courtesy — though they enjoyed our less formal relationship. The girls often asked me to stay with them during the homework period at the end of the day, and would group their chairs around mine to ask me questions, teach me words in Swahili, or just become friends. Each day that I sat with them, a few more students pulled their chairs over to chat. On their last Monday, I looked up from quizzing some of the girls in English vocab to find the entire class seated around me (which prompted a more formal review session). Helping Standard 7 get ready for their exams has been my favorite responsibility at QEA thus far, and I’ll miss those kids when the rest of the school returns after September break. For Standard 7 students, the national exams marks the end of the term and school year.
I’ve loved working with the QEA team almost as much as I’ve loved working with Standard 7. Comprised of Mama Faith & Athanas Sekwiha, his sister & her husband Mama & Baba Pelis, and head teacher Yohana, it’s very much a family affair. Even though I don’t understand most of what they say during our weekly team meetings (Yohana and Athanas translate periodically), it’s evident how dedicated they are to the school — QEA is truly a labor of love for all of them. And they get stuff DONE. Since I’ve arrived, major progress has been made on the boarding house construction — the plastering, windows, and septic tank are all almost completed! These three projects are all huge undertakings, and are crucial steps in finishing the boarding house. While watching the construction, I’m constantly amazed by how much the workers are able to get done in a day, guided and supported by the QEA team.The efficiency at the school balances out the polepole life, and has taught me an important lesson: take time to relax, and then when you work, work hard and with purpose.
This kind of efficiency can be seen in other areas of life in Mlali as well. Probably my favorite example is one of the bodabodas (motorcycles used as taxis) that transports some of the students to & from school each day. There’s one that routinely takes four of the younger kids at once — talk about making the most out of a trip! They even have a word for this — mshkaki, which means “kebab” and is hilariously accurate.
But probably my favorite thing to get to love in Mlali is the Sekwiha family — especially the kids. There are four living at the Sekwiha compound — twelve year old Felista, the short and confident ringleader (and Mama Faith & Athanas’ younger daughter); eleven year old Lightness, full of songs and dance moves; eight year old Irene, who’s always laughing (even when I’m trying to make her to stop cheating at cards); and adorable four year old Stan, silly and creative and my Tanzanian BFF. They have welcomed me into their lives and family with open arms — I spend almost all of my time after school with them and their friends, playing cards and soccer and whatever else they think of. I walk home from school with the girls every day, and on the weekends, I’m greeted by Stan almost as soon as I open my door in the mornings (sometimes he watches me brush my teeth, to make sure I’m not wasting any time before the day’s games begin).
I love hanging out with them, despite the rather large age gap. They’re funny, and for the most part very mature for their ages. Neighborhood kids constantly come in & out, and sometimes it’s difficult to make myself sit in my little house to get work done. One of their favorite down-time activities is borrowing my phone to take pictures and videos — the results never fail to make me laugh. Stan especially loves taking selfies, usually of him singing or just making weird faces and noises. Below are a few of my favorites:
Even though sometimes it still feels like I’m settling in, and even though I sometimes still feel like I’m not doing enough, I’m extremely grateful for all of my experiences in Mlali thus far. I’ll continue to learn about and settle into Mlali and the Sekwiha family until the day I leave (a day I already get sad thinking about). And the work that I do and the projects I’ve fundraised for will continue to have an impact long after that sad day. Until then, I still have money to raise and projects to complete. QEA’s boarding house (the recipient of most of my fundraising) has been their biggest project for more than three years — once it’s complete, it will serve as the school’s main source of income, and as a home for vulnerable students. As long as money remains available, the team estimates that enough of the work will be completed to start moving students in for the start of next school year in January! I also still have work to do helping further develop the students’ and teachers’ English skills, and the schools’ Tuition Program for slower learners. Spending time writing down my goals for the next month has me feeling energized and excited for the work ahead.
So for the rest of my time here, I’m going to try to soak it all in and experience as much as possible. Live the polepole life, work hard, and love this place and these people without reservation. Though I think I’ll stay away from pikipiki in the dark.
