Goodbye Mili :(

Veronica (Chairman's daughter) with the bunny I gave her (thanks sis for sending it).
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Boo hoo...today is a very sad day. I'm still with the other volunteers (we're in Pangani for a few days) but this morning I said goodbye to the village.  There was no big farewell this time as we are all leaving at different times, but the people of Milingano still managed to make me feel as though I was leaving a piece of my heart behind.

On Monday we decided to have a little staff party at our house, just like we did before Sarah and Kirstie left. Only this time, rather than feeling a little awkward sitting around drinking sodas and eating chappatis together, it all felt very relaxed and comfortable.  We chatted, comparing lifestyles here and in the UK and even shared a bit of banter.  They are no longer just the staff, some of them have become very good friends of ours.

Me and the boys
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The teachers were shocked to hear that I'll be going back to England to teach all the subjects and that i'll teach all day long. They still reckoned they'd rather do that than teach one subject here to 100 or so children at a time. I can't decide if I agree or not - at least they don't have reports to write in the summer!

They are still convinced that we are rich despite our attempts to explain that we are not rich in our own country - but of course they are right. We are richer than they could ever imagine. Even owning more than 2 pairs of shoes or sets of clothes displays wealth that most people don't have. The very fact that we can afford to travel, eat out, stay in hotels and own cars shouts wealth to them that they will never have.  Teachers here get paid little more than housegirls - about 70,000 tsh (30 GBP) a month, or a pound a day. So it is no wonder they find it difficult to be dedicated when they not only have to think about teaching but also their next harvest of maize. Most teachers have their own farm or 'shamba'.

Staff photo - taken by Benati, 9 year old aspiring photographer.
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They all want to come to England, some in search of an English wife! They were not put off by our suggestions that they would have to wine and dine them, buy them flowers and chocolates and do their share of the cooking and cleaning either.  We illustrated how expensive it is to live in the UK by giving them the cost of a months rent (400GBP = 1 million shillings!). This got them into asking the prices of all sorts of things from food to cars to trains!! They found the shock of it all quite amusing I think.

Kids saying goodbye (or rather, showing off to the camera!)
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After the party one of the teachers gave a little speech to express their gratitude for us being there and to say how sad they are that we're leaving. (Jo and Tuba leave next week leaving Leila as the last mzungu!) For the past week Mr Baruani has kept saying "I am sad.  Your days are numbered." His unusual use of English phrases always makes me laugh!

On Tuesday Jo and I held our last staff meeting to discuss the Behaviour management booklet we had created and to make sure everyone knows the rules and punishments to be used.  Jo made big posters for the staffroom which look fab but I think at first some staff took this as CANE EVERYONE!  So we had to make sure that the staff knew the alternatives to using the cane that had been agreed upon and that the children need to know the rules if this is going to work.  We put great emphasis on positive behaviour management - prevention rather than cure - which seemed to be completely alien to some of them.  Sadly two of the best teachers, who took all of this fully on board, are leaving soon, so I hope the Head Teacher can stay strong without them.

One of my last meals in Mili - will I miss this delicious food I wonder?
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Wednesday was my last day at school and a very sad one too.  I gave the children gifts of colouring pencils and stickers and they sang me songs which made me cry. Standard 4 particularly moved me when a lot of them buried their heads in their arms resting on the desks to hide their tears.  Tanzanian's don't show their emotions very often.  I have taught this class since I arrived so I got to know them the best.  After saying goodbye to them I went to see standard 6 and ended up having the whole of standard 4 lined up against the windows like people looking in at animals at a zoo. I couldn't shoo them away though, so I just got them to join in with standard 6's songs which was even more emotional.

Later I went to say goodbye to people in the village and was overwhelmed as always by their hospitality.  Yohana, the blind man I used to teach English to and Biana, the head teachers wife both invited me in.  Then a really sweet old couple asked me to follow them to their house.  As the children followed us in I realised that they are the grandparents of practically all the clever children in the village (you soon get to know who they are!).

That evening we put on some music and danced in the dark with the  kids. When it was time to say goodbye they sang us some songs and then did their usual impression of someone in mourning.  No amount of dancing around, tickling them or acting goofy would make them crack a smile. They were not happy with me for leaving and they made me feel incredibly guilty!

The next morning while packing up my things, very touchingly, Joyce and Melania each presented me with a khanga to take home (and add to my collection!). Shortly afterwards I found Melania leaning against the wall crying. It is quite unusual to see people in Tanzania crying openly so I was quite taken aback. I tried putting my arm round her but they are not very tactile people either so that didn't help! Until then I'd kind of forgotten I was leaving and felt like I was just getting ready for another weekend trip, but now it started to sink in.

When the car arrived it was time to say goodbye to Mama Margaret, the Chairman's wife, mother of four, surrogate mother to us, neighbour and friend... She has not been well over the past few weeks, taking turns with her sons to have a fever. With no way of testing for malaria in Milingano, it has been the medical officer's guess work that has suggested she has the illness, but it is dragging on so much I wonder if it is something else.

When I walked towards her to say goodbye, Margaret threw her arms open, hugged me and sobbed. This really got to me, not just because I was sad to say goodbye and because she was, but I could tell that everything had become too much for her. She had been battling on looking after her family, fetching heavy buckets of water, farming, washing and cooking despite feeling very unwell. As her tears soaked my shoulder and she mumbled things about a fever and something about England I really wished I could understand her. For 6 months we have managed simple communications that have developed a friendship between us but sometimes the language barrier could be very frustrating.

When she finally let me go, she took my hand and led me to say goodbye to some of the other local women. It was just as hard later saying goodbye to the Chairman who had also taken on a paternal role when we arrived. Finally, piled into the big white car, we pulled away and I waved goodbye to all my little friends (Jackson, Charles, Benati, Mwensa, Devidi etc) and my big friends (Godfrey, Melania, Joyce, Baruani, Margaret, Boniface etc), feeling very relieved that I should hopefully be back to the village in August.