Sossy; Malasi, the scholastic (Jesuit in formation); and I headed from the primary school out to the school site. It was a windy, dusty day, which you’ll see in the accompanying clips. The following two show work on two of the structures. Notice the tractor-trailer traveling from right to left in the second clip; that will give you a sense just how big this campus is. The picture is taken not quite from the mid-point of the campus. There is also a panning shot of the site, looking toward U Dom.
In the present phase, the following buildings are going up: a classroom building with adjacent labs, faculty housing, dining hall with its secondary floor serving as a multi-purpose room, boys’ and girls’ dormitories with housing for the dorm matrons and patrons (as they are called here) between.
Friday, May 22, 2009
St. Ignatius Primary School
This is the primary school associated with the parish. I’ll spend more time here tomorrow, Friday, having lunch with the faculty. We visited a few classes. The students were all very pleased to meet the visitor from the United States of America. They all have obvious affection for the pastor and director of the school, Sossy. Here’s a brief clip of the youngest who encountered us on their way to breakfast (porridge).
Mass in the Morning
The title of this entry reminds me of a great story my Aunt Ann Daudelin told me about an error in an obituary in the Toledo Blade, which I refer to as “one of America’s papers.” (You see the masthead of the paper used to –it may still have—the words “one of America’s finest newspapers.”) It seems whoever was taking the information over the phone didn’t get it quite right. Instead of “There will be a Mass of Christian burial on Friday at 10:00 a.m.” it appeared as “There will be a massive Christian burial…” That still gets me.
Having been awakened by the muezzin at 0515, I got up, showered, and got ready for morning Mass at 0630. I arrived to the singing of the congregation, led by some young girls and the sisters. The church, which holds over 1,000 people had at least 150 people in it. It was a moving experience – and this was a weekday Mass! I look forward to Sunday.
Having been awakened by the muezzin at 0515, I got up, showered, and got ready for morning Mass at 0630. I arrived to the singing of the congregation, led by some young girls and the sisters. The church, which holds over 1,000 people had at least 150 people in it. It was a moving experience – and this was a weekday Mass! I look forward to Sunday.
On the Road to Dodoma
Wednesday, 20 May
After the tour and a few minutes to pack my things, I headed with Fr. Damas to Dodoma. With us were his mother and sister, who live northwest of Dodoma, in Singida, I believe. His mother had been in Dar looking into what it would mean to have knee-replacement surgery. Between the walk and now this ride through the neighborhood to the road to Dodoma I saw what I had missed last night because of the darkness.
Because there is such un- and underemployment here, there are a lot of folks walking, visiting, sitting. But you also see in the neighborhood small businesses: hair, butchery, etc. People getting by. In addition to the adults are a good number of children not in school.
Once we hit the main road to Dodoma, I felt we were in a bustling metropolitan setting, though on its western edge. The neighborhood road comes out to the main road near the bus station. There were loads of mostly young men selling every sort of fruit, candy, and beverage, running along the busses as they were leaving the station. There were few takers from what I could see.
It took awhile to get out the city – though it has a semi-rural flavour after a few kilometres, the ubiquitous dalla-dallas – jam packed with riders — reminded me just how really close we were.
What can I say about the 300+ miles from Dar to Dodoma? Well one obvious thing is that there was not one half mile on the journey where we didn’t see a person along the road, walking or biking, selling food or charcoal, tending goats or pasturing cows (there were a number of Maasai men doing just that all along the route).
Fortunately Damas is a good and skilled driver. The busses zipped by us, and the busses headed toward Dar weren’t afraid to pass slow traffic, coming into our westbound lane with little distance. So not only will I have to relearn how to drive a manual transmission (I learned when I worked at St. Ambrose Housing Aid Center in Baltimore in 1983, but I didn’t really learn – I spent a lot of time using the hand-break on hills and riding the clutch at stops) -- not only will I have to relearn how to drive a manual transmission but I’ll have to learn to be a bit of a daredevil.
We stopped along the road in Morogoro, southeast of Dodoma, a little less than half way there. Suddenly our land cruiser was surrounded by folks selling oranges, bananas, and “milk bread” (otherwise known as white bread). When they saw me in the car, they started saying “Mzungu, mzungu (white guy, white guy), buy some oranges, buy some bananas, etc.” Damas’s sister bought some oranges and bananas and we were on our way.
Between Morogoro and Dodoma, Damas mentioned that his niece was at a boarding school just off the road. He hadn’t finished his sentence when he spotter her at the side of the road. He pulled over thirty yards ahead, and her mother called back to her. How happy she was to see them! We went ahead to the convent and friary (Italian Franciscans), and she caught up with us. After she had a chance to visit with her mother and grandmother along with the sisters while Damas and I enjoyed the hospitality of a Franciscan brother, we continued on the journey to our destination.
On the outskirts of Dodoma, Damas mentioned we were approaching the OLQP campus. He kindly pulled over for me to see it and then drove around to the entrance gate. The guard on duty let us pass, and we drove around the campus. The first impression, which you don’t get from the video, is just how big it is – the shortest length, along to Dodoma-Morogoro Road is 1.5 kilometres. The accompanying video captures this initial approach -- pardon the handheld camera. The University of Dodoma is next to the campus and its campus is huge. The combined immensity means that the university buildings (former parliament buildings to give you some sense of scale) are dots (large dots, but dots). The folks on the site were closing up shop for the day. Everyone seemed very industrious. I don’t know how obvious it is to you in the video, but this is “Big Sky Country.” It’s expansive. I’m sure I’ll head out for a more formal tour with Sossy in the next days.
After that quick tour we headed to the Jesuit parish, known by all as the “airport parish” because, well, it’s next to the airport. I have a comfortable room at the end of the house – about the size of the room I grew up in at 3627 Anderson Pkwy in Toledo. We ate at 19h00, joined by two of the volunteers, one who works at Ignatius Loyola Primary school and the other at an orphanage operated by the Ursuline sisters. I’ve been here for two days and have yet to have ugali! We had a wonderful meal of rice with a vegetable curry, chicken, a nice cabbage dish, and boiled corn – with pineapple for dessert. After dinner everyone takes some quiet time together in the chapel before returning for clean up. Not unlike many other Jesuit communities I have lived in, the next step was to catch the evening news, in this case BBC International. I didn’t last long and trundled off to my room for a bit of quiet time the product of which is in part what you’re reading.
After the tour and a few minutes to pack my things, I headed with Fr. Damas to Dodoma. With us were his mother and sister, who live northwest of Dodoma, in Singida, I believe. His mother had been in Dar looking into what it would mean to have knee-replacement surgery. Between the walk and now this ride through the neighborhood to the road to Dodoma I saw what I had missed last night because of the darkness.
Because there is such un- and underemployment here, there are a lot of folks walking, visiting, sitting. But you also see in the neighborhood small businesses: hair, butchery, etc. People getting by. In addition to the adults are a good number of children not in school.
Once we hit the main road to Dodoma, I felt we were in a bustling metropolitan setting, though on its western edge. The neighborhood road comes out to the main road near the bus station. There were loads of mostly young men selling every sort of fruit, candy, and beverage, running along the busses as they were leaving the station. There were few takers from what I could see.
It took awhile to get out the city – though it has a semi-rural flavour after a few kilometres, the ubiquitous dalla-dallas – jam packed with riders — reminded me just how really close we were.
What can I say about the 300+ miles from Dar to Dodoma? Well one obvious thing is that there was not one half mile on the journey where we didn’t see a person along the road, walking or biking, selling food or charcoal, tending goats or pasturing cows (there were a number of Maasai men doing just that all along the route).
Fortunately Damas is a good and skilled driver. The busses zipped by us, and the busses headed toward Dar weren’t afraid to pass slow traffic, coming into our westbound lane with little distance. So not only will I have to relearn how to drive a manual transmission (I learned when I worked at St. Ambrose Housing Aid Center in Baltimore in 1983, but I didn’t really learn – I spent a lot of time using the hand-break on hills and riding the clutch at stops) -- not only will I have to relearn how to drive a manual transmission but I’ll have to learn to be a bit of a daredevil.
We stopped along the road in Morogoro, southeast of Dodoma, a little less than half way there. Suddenly our land cruiser was surrounded by folks selling oranges, bananas, and “milk bread” (otherwise known as white bread). When they saw me in the car, they started saying “Mzungu, mzungu (white guy, white guy), buy some oranges, buy some bananas, etc.” Damas’s sister bought some oranges and bananas and we were on our way.
Between Morogoro and Dodoma, Damas mentioned that his niece was at a boarding school just off the road. He hadn’t finished his sentence when he spotter her at the side of the road. He pulled over thirty yards ahead, and her mother called back to her. How happy she was to see them! We went ahead to the convent and friary (Italian Franciscans), and she caught up with us. After she had a chance to visit with her mother and grandmother along with the sisters while Damas and I enjoyed the hospitality of a Franciscan brother, we continued on the journey to our destination.
On the outskirts of Dodoma, Damas mentioned we were approaching the OLQP campus. He kindly pulled over for me to see it and then drove around to the entrance gate. The guard on duty let us pass, and we drove around the campus. The first impression, which you don’t get from the video, is just how big it is – the shortest length, along to Dodoma-Morogoro Road is 1.5 kilometres. The accompanying video captures this initial approach -- pardon the handheld camera. The University of Dodoma is next to the campus and its campus is huge. The combined immensity means that the university buildings (former parliament buildings to give you some sense of scale) are dots (large dots, but dots). The folks on the site were closing up shop for the day. Everyone seemed very industrious. I don’t know how obvious it is to you in the video, but this is “Big Sky Country.” It’s expansive. I’m sure I’ll head out for a more formal tour with Sossy in the next days.
After that quick tour we headed to the Jesuit parish, known by all as the “airport parish” because, well, it’s next to the airport. I have a comfortable room at the end of the house – about the size of the room I grew up in at 3627 Anderson Pkwy in Toledo. We ate at 19h00, joined by two of the volunteers, one who works at Ignatius Loyola Primary school and the other at an orphanage operated by the Ursuline sisters. I’ve been here for two days and have yet to have ugali! We had a wonderful meal of rice with a vegetable curry, chicken, a nice cabbage dish, and boiled corn – with pineapple for dessert. After dinner everyone takes some quiet time together in the chapel before returning for clean up. Not unlike many other Jesuit communities I have lived in, the next step was to catch the evening news, in this case BBC International. I didn’t last long and trundled off to my room for a bit of quiet time the product of which is in part what you’re reading.
A Tour of St. John the Baptist Parish, Dar es Salaam
20 May After breakfast this morning Fr. Melchior, pastor of the Jesuit parish in Dar es Salaam – the parish in whose boundaries Loyola High School is found – took me on a tour. We walked from the community building over to the parish buildings. This tour started what was an overwhelming day. I saw poverty the likes of which I’ve never witnessed before. I know there are people in more dire straits than those in this neighborhood, but this is the greatest poverty I’ve witnessed. A lot of travel of folks on the road –rutted and narrow way is the better description – as we walked toward the parish compound. Melchior showed me how the building is falling apart. The settling is considerable, the cracks at places are wide enough to put two fingers in. What they couldn’t do with a structural engineer here to advise them!
The parish primary school is an obvious priority for him, and his devotion to the children is obvious. I enjoyed visiting two classrooms and being welcomed by the children. I did witness the difference re: pedagogy between what I’ve become accustomed to witnessing in so many US classrooms and here: There is much more stress on rote memorization, choral response, etc. A challenge lies ahead of me – but not an unwelcome one.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
A Tour of St. John the Baptist Parish, Dar es Salaam
After breakfast this morning Fr. Melchior, pastor of the Jesuit parish in Dar es Salaam – the parish in whose boundaries Loyola High School is found, took me on a tour. We walked from the community building over to the parish buildings. This tour started what was an overwhelming day. I saw poverty the likes of which I’ve never witnessed before. I know there are people in more dire straits than those in this neighborhood, but this is the greatest poverty I’ve witnessed. A lot of travel of folks on the road –rutted and narrow way is the better description – as we made our way. Melchior showed me how the building is falling apart. The settling is considerable, the crack as places wide enough to put two fingers in. What they couldn’t do with a structural engineer here to advise them! The parish primary school here is an obvious priority for him, and his devotion to the children is obvious. I enjoyed visiting two classrooms and being welcomed by the children. I did witness the difference re: pedagogy: There is much more stress on rote memorization, choral response, etc. A challenge lies ahead of me – but not an unwelcome one.
The Kindness of Strangers
Wednesday Morning
It’s 05h15 and the local muezzin has awakened me with his devotion. Actually, truth be told it is nearly the time I set the alarm for and his voice is a lovely one and the speakers being used seem of high quality.
It was a good night’s rest.
It’s 05h15 and the local muezzin has awakened me with his devotion. Actually, truth be told it is nearly the time I set the alarm for and his voice is a lovely one and the speakers being used seem of high quality.
It was a good night’s rest.
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