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Teaching in Tanzania

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Teaching in Tanzania

Volunteer Emma Collins writes...

'It’s hard to believe I’ve been back in the UK for four months. One look at my photos and I’m back in Tanzania. I can smell Africa. It’s distinctive and it hits you as soon as you step off the plane: the combination of heat, dust, animals and people. Thousands of people. The familiar sight of children, barefoot and playing in the street; the women swathed in vibrant coloured fabric, balancing awkward-looking bundles on their heads; Maasai herding cattle along a dirt track. It could be a scene from a film or a travel documentary... but it was the view from my window for over six months.

I had always been drawn to Africa. The home of strange creatures set against images of vast landscapes. A cinematic blur of khaki, big hats and crisp white linen, transplanted to the red earth, dense foliage and endless blue skies. Banana palms and mud huts resting precariously amidst gaunt cattle. Children playing: smiling without clothes or toys. Children crying: without sufficient food or medical care. Western comedians and aging rock stars find their way into my perceptions of a mystical place.

We may think we know all we need to about Africa. I went to Tanzania convinced of what I would find. I was wrong and I was surprised.

Undertaking a teaching placement with Changing Worlds in Tanzania is not an aid mission. But it is a fantastic opportunity to live and work in an incredibly different cultural setting. To volunteer your skills and your time to help in a school where you are truly needed. A chance to genuinely experience the life of people in a developing country.

Without being overly dramatic it is true to say that I have never seen such poverty. Families with eight children live in a one or two-roomed shack, where the walls are decorated with cuttings from discarded western magazines, sharing one bed (if they’re lucky). People die from illnesses that could be treated, or struggle with something as easily rectified as poor eyesight. But hardly anyone wears glasses, or shoes for that matter. Life is hard, particularly for the women. Their day starts with the painfully early rise of the equatorial sun and they work all day: collecting water, washing clothes, feeding the family, tending crops, selling produce - all the while keeping a watchful eye over unruly broods of children, chicken and wayward goats; braiding their neighbours’ wild hair and generally finding time to discuss all matters of local interest with any passing person who may care to listen.

The Tanzanians I met were incredibly generous, opening their homes as well as their workplaces. I was taught to cook ugali and pilau, to speak Kiswahili and to sing the national anthem (all three verses). As I said before, this was not an aid mission. It was more of an educational and cultural exchange. For every song I taught my class I learned two more. For every phrase of Kiswahili I mastered, I taught my Tanzanian colleagues a new piece of conversational English. For each time I cursed the fact that I had only one, out-dated textbook for over 100 students, I was motivated to find a new way to communicate a key concept: orally, visually, artistically even musically. Each time I faced a problem I was forced to dig deeper, to be more resourceful and to take the lead from the children all around me - who were happy and smiling while putting limited materials to incredible use.

Teaching English was of course the primary reason for going to Tanzania. And for someone considering a career in education it was an amazing experience. An enormous class of excitable children (whose first or even second language wasn’t English), who needed to be taught according to no defined syllabus or obvious resources. At times it seemed an impossible task. But gradually, by being inventive and enthusiastic and with a lot of effort, the rewards started to show. The lure of stickers, balloons, coloured pencils and the promise of creative activities paid off. The kids really were enjoying their lessons and seemed to be taking the main concepts onboard. Even my ‘naughty’ boys who sat at the back were coming to every lesson and completing their work. Gideon, a previously disruptive and disengaged student, passed his Standard 5 English exam (at his third attempt) and proudly flaunted his newly acquired stickers before his friends.

I went to Africa with a sense of wanting to do something good, but I had such a fantastic time that I feel compelled to thank those I was living and working with (rather than the other way around). This is not intended to sound patronising, or to persuade you to consider doing a placement. Think of it more as an incredibly unique opportunity: your personal invitation to alter your perspective in a way you never dreamed possible.'

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