👷🛠Eine deutsche {bersetyung ist in Arbeit...💪
This day feels bad. JM wanted to punish a student from P6. He hit him very hard once with a stick and I said stop. I went between him and the student but JM tried to push me away. I said no and that I first want to know what happened. JM pushed me away and said wait and reached out. I said no again. He told me to ask the student. The student said he was about to take his exercise book. JM hit again and I stepped in again. I told him that taking his exercise book is not a reason for this. He said: “Yes, it is because he went through the window.” He tried to hit again but I'm an obstacle, he tried to push me away again but when I came closer instead of moving back he got angry. The other teachers also said “STOP” but he stayed stubborn. The student left (wether with or without permission I don't know) and JM 5min later very angry too. I sat down a bit shaken and angry.
JM turns out to be a huge (*please fill in your favorite swearword*). When I was in class he came suddenly in pulled a student towards him with his shirt and asked him a question. No one can answer when he/she is threatened with pain!
When I sit down in the staff room after my lesson, I think: I just want to go home and sleep and when I wake up this day didn't happen.
When I walk to my next period I am still angry at JM how is it possible that he violates human rights at the same time as he teaches their inviolability. The left over lesson makes me smile again. Noise makers from P5 are punished by P4 and afterwards P4 is stronger as a class and P5 knows it's lesson.
The next day: GM is tucking in his shirt in front of my, he takes very long so I ask him sarcastically wether he would need help. His eyes brighten and he says, “Yes, can you help me?” I answer, “No, go and ask MM for help.” He asks, “Why not you?” I answer that I won't put my hand into his pants. He starts laughing and begins a conversation with MM in Swahili. Then the break is over – but not the weird situation.
When the children have their religion class, I teach JM how to use the computer. MM sits on my chair and strikes gently my turquoise rain jacket. “I like that color. Please, I like that color.” I don't know what exactly he wants me to respond, so I just say, “Me too.” MM says, “Please, Loreen.” I ask, “Please what?”
“Can I beg this?”
“MM, that doesn't make any sense. You want to beg my jacket?”
“Yes, I like that color.”
“Yeah, me too. That's why I bought it.”
“Please, can I wear it.” Without waiting for an answer he slips in one sleeve.
“No, MM!”
What the hell is happening here? This is crazy.
GM makes some sexist comment and starts talking about marriage. In his opinion a woman should stay home and wash, cook for her husband and shouldn't be allowed to have any other male friend. “How can you say that?”
“When a woman marries a man she agrees to live under his conditions which means to abandon all those habits like going to the club.”
“No woman is supposed to abandon her social life just because she's married now.”
“A wife is supposed to go home and raise the family.”
“No! This is not what marriage is about. It's about respecting the other person for how she&he is and who he&she is. Marriage is not an agreement that the man says go that way and the woman follows.”
“What will happen if you don't agree with one another?”
“Then they have to find a compromise!”
“And who is going to find these compromises?”
“There are two adults in a marriage.”
“What?”
“In a marriage are two adults. And adults should be mature enough to sit down and talk about it.”
“Oh…elders.”
“No, adults.”
“Elders.”
*sigh* “Or elders. They should be wise enough.”
“Yeah I agree with you.”
Finally, but our conversation continues. GM is convinced that a girl who got pregnant has to marry the man. I try to tell him that this wouldn’t be necessary but the parents have to take responsibility for their actions. GM asks wether this wouldn’t be awkward since in that case they would need to spend a lot of time together and other people would think this is a marriage. I tell him that it’s not important what other people think. After this comment he asks me wether it would be right to just be yourself.
“Yeah.”
“Loreen, it seems you’re somehow tough.”
“I hope so.”
“Whoever will marry you has to be very strong like Mr. GM.”
*laughing* “Mr. GM cant stand me.” I sit upright as I say it with an air of confidence and strict disbelieve in his statement.
“Of course, he is a very strong man.”
“No.”
“He is a man of few words.”
“No.”
“But full of function.”
“No.”
“Why do you say no?”
“Because I disagree!”
“Why do you disagree?”
“Because as far as I am concerned Mr. GM has strong sides but also very, very weak ones.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m very strong. It’s only that I've never got that chance to show how strong I am. I am very strong man, very gently. And if you allow me to repeat the words: I am African just by bad luck.”
“What do you expect me to say now?”
“Just a word of addition.”
“Just a word of addition? … You may be as strong as you want to be but that is not a reason for me to marry you.”
“I didn't say you marry me but you were disagreeing with me that I'm not a strong man.”
“The person who says from himself ‘I am a very strong and very intelligent one.’ is aware about his weaknesses. He is aware about the values he misses.”
“According to your point of view but according to me: There is no person who can bear me. Because I have never been married or in a strong relationship. That's why I have to stay by myself but I am a very strong man. I just don't have somebody to talk on my behalf. So I have to talk.”
“Yes.”
“Because I am very strong. I know myself. I know I do like this and this and this. So before I can sign the marriage I have to stay with that woman for at least two years, learning each other and to find out wether there are anomalies and I have to accept it.”
“No… I mean I like your idea of staying two years together until your marriage but if you find something that disturbs you you don't have to accept it. You can try to talk about it first.”
“But what if we talk about it but the person keeps on repeating the same mistake?”
“Then you should ask yourself wether this is a mistake or your perception.”
“Loreen, you’re giving me a hard time.”
“I like that.”
“You like that?”
“Oh yes.”
I have to admit that I enjoyed this conversation somehow but on the other hand it seems sad to me that he thinks a man has to be strong and a woman has to follow.
(I did not make this up. I started to record this conversation so that I didn't even change the words.)
I collect the homework from P6 and sit down in the staff room again, where JM tells GM if he would know his story he would have committed suicide. After a short conversation in Swahili, during which time I correct the homework from my P6 students, he says: “You know I am older than you…” I could puke whenever I hear that. “You can't just go to a woman and say ‘I want to fuck you.’” WOW I have no idea what they talked about but this seems strange to me. Then JM turns to me and says: “What would you say if I'd tell you ‘Loreen, I want to fuck you.’?” I am surprised but I can hear in his tone this is neither a serious question nor does he expect me to answer now. However, my stunned face apparently was what he wanted to show GM because now they changed to Swahili again.
After school I go to an wifi café and put my first English blog entries online. I take screen shots and then J and I go to the bus stand. We are going to Arusha in order to watch Pets in the cinema. When we found us seats in the bus, street sellers try to sell me stuff through the window right next to me. I am a bit overstrained with two people behind the window and three people who try to sell through the open door. We buy something to drink because the ride will take approximately two hours. While we wait for the bus to get full (so that we can take off) the motor is heating up the seats. I complain about this as an environment pollution. J has to agree that this is bad. But after these weeks I have already realized that every bus is leaving the motor on no matter how long it has to wait. I take my iPad out of my bag and show J my screen shots of my blog so that he can read it properly and not on a small smartphone display. We take off and I watch the landscape when J is reading. He was there during some funny occasions but his laughter shows me that even my story telling makes fun. I am proud of myself. I continue watching the landscape and enjoying it. At one bus stop we hear a siren. We turn around to look where it comes from. It is a guy standing between the two lanes and imitates it perfectly. Drunk! We laugh and with us the whole bus.
J has finished reading and helps me now to extend my vocabulary in Swahili.
We are driving on a street which is pretty new. One lane is finished but the other one is still in progress. I see a truck driving backwards in order to spread the water it contains. I have to laugh. Why backwards instead of forwards? Wouldn’t that be easier to steer?
A few minutes later I see a guy with his brand new sofa standing in the middle of the construction work. I wonder wether he is aware about the dust cloud.
Arusha first impression: more crowded and the streets are narrower than in Moshi. J wants to show me the typical dress code but he can't find it. We ask a Bajaji driver for the price to the cinema. He says 5,000TSH but I say 2,000TSH J tries to bargain 3,000 but nothing works. His friend is laughing and when the driver gives up his colleague offers us 4,000TSH. Stupid, didn't you listen?!
We finally find a DalaDala and when we arrive to the cinema, we assert that our movie is not played anymore. We pick “Inferno” instead and are not disappointed. A nice movie. We want to get dinner but the place is too expensive in our opinion. We take a taxi back. The guy is surprised when I tell him the price we are willing to pay in Swahili. I like this face of surprise!
We drive to the bust stand and wait. A drunk guy comes and talks to J. When he's finished I get a translation. The guy told us he could drive us with his car to Moshi and when we are tired we should drink coffee. When the bus arrives we enter together with a lot of market women and their luggage. A woman puts her bag in the storage above our heads. I say it doesn't fit but like usual these people press. The brand sign of the bag though brakes.
After 1,5h waiting for the take off I am very tired and fall asleep. When I wake up its 1:13 and to know this I looked at my phone. Bad idea: the street-stranger! “U real nice and friendly tht i never seen before I miss seeing you”
As to underline my astonishment a bag drops out of the storage into the corridor.
When we arrive in Moshi, we are super hungry and look for a place which is open at this time at night. We eat fried bananas and shish kebab in a club and watch a woman who tries to fight her entrance through the security men. I watch the wife of the security man actually taking off her jewelry so that she can step in.
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