Today is the last day at our coastal location.  Tomorrow, we’re traveling back into the interior and then, Saturday, it’s off on safari.  So excited!

I have absolutely, positively enjoyed my time here, both my time alone during the day and my time with students.  I am ready for a change, though, ready for some activity, new sights, different experiences.

Highlight of the weekend: a football game between our students and a local village’s team.

They played in a pitch carved out of the bush, right outside the village, and everyone – and I do mean everyone – turned out to watch.  There must have been close to 300 people there, probably more than most college soccer games; I’m fairly sure every child in a five mile radius was there.  Considering the local talent, the students did quite well and they definitely had a blast.

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Have I mentioned how beautiful it is here?

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I don’t get to interact with the local children as much as the students do so I really enjoy my opportunities to do so.  We were all working in the village this weekend on various projects, so I got to try out my few words of Swahili frequently – to the delight of any little ones nearby (I can’t decide if my accent is hilarious or simply my attempt to speak their language).  It’s exhausting, trying to communicate with so little understanding of the language, but very worthwhile.

As one of the students commented recently, this program is the complete opposite of my London program.

The setting along confirms that:

I’m about as far away from a flat in London as I can get:

It isn’t just the location, of course.  The structure of the days is very different, with students spending most of the day in local schools before coming back to take a swim or relax on the veranda.  Classes are almost secondary, dependent on the students completing the readings and engaging in our pre-dinner discussions.  There aren’t really any  distractions here – no pubs, no musicals, no museums, no restaurants – but the students are tired by the end of the day and ready to climb under their mosquito nets.

I spend more down-time with the students here, in part because we only have one place to congregate, so there’s more informal interaction here.  Having said that, though, I don’t think that my interactions are necessarily different; I’m still clearly Prof Me, even if I am sunburned and swatting bugs.  I do spend more time in non-academic conversation but I enjoy hearing about the students’ days with the local children, getting to know them as people.  Last night’s dinner conversation featured a lively discussion on the merits of everyone’s favorite music (it seems heavy metal is making a comeback amongst the younger set).

I’ve had more one-on-one academic time with students, though.  Since we’re all here, intermingled in the lodge as we read, work on computers, sip cold sodas, they’ve realized that I’m available for questions.  I sat and worked with a student yesterday for almost 20 minutes on “Middle Passage” by Robert Hayden (the student had no context to understand the poem – didn’t know enough about the slave trade to make the connections (!) – so it was slow going).  How often do students get personal instruction from a professor?  Even during office hours, we’re so limited in time and patience; here, they’re my sole focus, so bring on the questions.

I’m not ready to give up my London program yet.  It seems almost surreal now – taking students to a city, speaking English, battling traffic – but I know it’s a good program, different as it may be from this one.  There’s certainly something powerful in taking students so completely out of their comfort zones, having them interact with native populations and grapple with challenges so far from their daily lives (like riding bikes to school through “puddles” that double as calf-deep potholes).

My program doesn’t have that, perhaps, but I think it offers worthy challenges and deep learning.  Perhaps more of that comes from my investment in their learning than the setting itself.  I’m tough on my students in London, right beside them in the classroom as well as the museums and the parks and the cathedrals, to ask questions and challenge understandings and offer perspectives.

Yes, perhaps I’m protesting too much but I often feel like I have to justify my program as a worthy learning experience.  London is easy, they say.  The students can just speak English, they say.  Living in a city isn’t challenging, they say.  I understand why faculty who take students to more “difficult” places may feel that way – especially after coming here – but I don’t think it’s a fair comparison.  Different learning opportunities for different reasons for different students, wherever we end up in the world: that’s the goal, isn’t it?

We were out and about this weekend: a welcome break for the students from their regular long days of working in schools and completing coursework. (Don’t worry, they’re having plenty of fun, too.)

We all packed on to a bus Saturday to visit the nearest town.  It was a little strange to see so many people and deal with traffic again!  We walked through a few markets, had lunch at a tiny cafe, bought kitenge cloth and then headed home.

Sunday, we took the dhows and traveled about an hour offshore to visit a sand island, only possible at low tide.  I was able to snorkel again (woo!), paddled about in the clearest, brightest water I’ve seen, and walked along the sand island, admiring the different shells rolling in the surf.

There were several spear fisherman around the island who were more than happy to show their wares to the students: octopi and squid!  Several of the students were just fascinated with them, letting them wrap around their arms and hands; most of us just offered a palm to feel the suction cups and left it at that.  Later in the day, one of the boys was showing a small octopus to everyone on the dhow and ended up absolutely covered in ink, dripping from head to waist!

The trip back was wonderful.  Everyone was happy, relaxed, laughing.  We were able to sail, too, so there we were, skimming through the most beautiful aqua water in a wooden dhow, sail full in the breeze, sunburned and sandy kids scattered about.  I have no doubt they’ll never forget the day.

We had a nice quiet afternoon back at the lodge, with students doing homework, playing cards, emailing.  Then the tailor arrived!  The students took turns, with the help of a translator, showing the tailor their kitenge cloth and explaining what they wanted: shirt, skirt, bag.  He measured them, took notes and then the next one stepped up.

I can’t wait to see all of their outfits.  They chose beautiful kitenge, so many different colors and patterns.  Earlier that day, they washed them out in the ocean and hung them to dry along a walkway by the beach.  I took video of the former and pictures of the latter!

It hasn’t been all sunshine and laughter here, of course, and I want to talk about those things, too, because they’re just as important a part of the trip as the excitement and the adventure.  I’ll have to think through that later, though, since it’s time to send a few emails.

I’m pretty sure that this will be one of the most memorable birthdays I’m ever likely to have.  Being on the other side of the world is treat enough, but I went snorkeling for the first time in my life today!

I’m not really a swimmer; a few near-drowning experiences in my youth have made me very cautious.  Putting my head under water to swim is beyond me, too, so I’ve learned to do a mean backstroke.  My paddling skills are also quite good.

I’ve never had the opportunity to snorkel before, so when my colleague suggested it today, I decided it was time to try it.  We were very lucky that another guest, a very nice South African woman, offered to go out with us; she was extremely patient as she explained how everything worked.  She stayed close, too, and pointed out all sorts of beautiful things once we got out to the coral reefs.

I had to fight through a few panicky moments to get myself into a prone position but it was completely worth it.  So many colorful fish: electric blue, bright yellow, sparkly black, shimmery green.  I  didn’t know what many of them were but I definitely recognized a lion fish.  Clumps of bright green and sheer pink coral were interspersed with the regular black.  Starfish the size of dinner plates – neon blue ones, grey ones with bright red decoration – showed up against the white sand.

I could have done without the sea urchin, however.  I kicked one while we were still in shallow water; even with swim shoes, those spiny little pincushions pack a punch.  So I have quite a few spines in my right foot – a badge of honor, I suppose, since I pulled out the ones I could and kept going.

The rest of the day was suitably sweet.  The kids kept wishing me a happy birthday; they all signed a card and presented it to me at dinner.  The staff sang happy birthday to me (in Swahili!) as they brought out a small cake, then everyone joined in for the regular song.

It really was a special day, which helps to take the sting out of getting older.  I did enjoy a conversation I had with one of the staff.  He didn’t believe me when I told him I was 41; I was joking that I was too old to dance (as the kids were) and when I told him my age, he was convinced I was teasing him.  Then he very solemnly told me that my face was  young and so I must dance to stay young inside.  An excellent point, I think.

Welcome to my beach.

Swimming in the Indian Ocean: seriously?  Living in a banda: me?  Sharing living space with geckos: really?  How in the world is this really my life?  

Well, here’s to travel, I say, and the willingness to take a leap.   I take students to study in London; I like public transportation; I mainline Diet Coke with Lime; I don’t leave the house without makeup; I hate wearing a bathing suit; I avoid the sun as much as possible; I don’t do bugs and creepy crawly things.  Obviously, this month is about as far away as you can get from all of those things.   

It’s definitely been an experience in just a few days.  I’m always much more calm and flexible when I travel – you just have to be – but I’ve had to embrace that side of myself with a passion lately – for lots of reasons.  No hot water?  Well, I can manage.  Mosquitoes feasting on my legs?  Well, just don’t scratch the welts.  Hanging out with students in my bathing suit?  Well, I want to swim and it’s too hot to care.  

The academic aspects of the program have been cause for maintaining my calm, too.  I have to keep reminding myself this isn’t my program; I’m here because my colleague was kind enough to invite me to teach.  She has a different style of teaching, a different way of interacting with students, a different response to issues – all very different from my own but so be it.

Because it’s an experience, for me and for the students, and I’m so glad we’re having this opportunity.  I never thought I would make it to Africa, much less have the chance to live here for a month, and now I’m waking up to ocean waves and reminding students to take their malarial medication.