Learning

(written on November 16^th)

Today it is Friday. It is 8:35 in the morning. On any other Friday, I would be at school teaching religion to Standard 5, but today, I’m home sick for the second day in a row.  Malaria and amoeba double-smack. But I’ll get to that later. With all of this extra bed-rest time, I decided to go through my ancient “My Documents” folder on my computer, just to see if I could clean some things out, and it turned into a marathon of me reading old college papers and biology lab write-ups. I don’t know what happened between then and now, but I can’t understand a WORD of what I wrote. In an eleven page paper arguing the holes in the philosopher Kant’s rationalizations of Happiness and Respect, I used the phrase “qua rational beings” instead of “as rational beings”, in addition to a few dozen words that I obviously looked up in a thesaurus during the writing process to make myself sound more intelligent when I didn’t actually understand their meanings. QUA rational beings?! Talk about being a snobby college student. After reading my argument, which I think earned me at least an A- on my Ethics final during my senior year, I couldn’t tell you a thing about what I was actually trying to say. It was absolutely ridiculous, and the madness continued with every sickeningly wordy document I opened. Don’t even get me started on all of the Civ papers I have stashed in there (PC students, you know what I’m talking about). It was like a dictionary drank too much and vomited all over my screen. Gross.

Anyway, after laughing at my former self who knew nothing of the real world other than how to bull-shit complex papers, which actually turned out to be a really great college skill in terms of grades, it got me thinking… what did I really LEARN in school? I don’t remember a thing about Kant, Darwin, Faust, or Drosophila Melanogaster (it’s a type of fly that I killed with alcohol exposure my freshmen year for a biology experiment, but I had to look at the lab report to trigger my memory). I was notorious for being able to crank out a 20 page paper in one night and have it at least resemble something that took weeks of preparation, but what did that process actually TEACH me? The information left my head as soon as it was rapidly typed out.

Mom, if you’re reading this, don’t worry. The purpose of this post isn’t to conclude that my mountain of student loans is a complete waste. It’s just such a bizarre transition, which so many people make—the transition from being a student to NOT being a student anymore. My job in life was so simple. Study. Do well. Build your extra curricular activities. Learn. LEARN. And I did learn. Maybe I didn’t learn derivatives well enough to remember how they work, and maybe I didn’t learn about Newton’s Laws to the point of being able to recite them, but I learned how to balance A LOT of activities with studying and a social life. I learned how to be confident. I learned how organize. I learned how to communicate better. I learned a lot about myself, which prepared me to tackle this experience.

Now, back to the present. Life is really different. I am no longer a student. I am a teacher, a foreigner, a community mate, a choir member, a person who’s got a lot of privilege. And I am learning everyday, in ways that are hilariously different from writing a college paper. Just two days ago, I had a miserably high fever, blurred vision, and felt sicker than I ever had in my life. My awesome roommate Shea turned into a dad and walked with me to the nearby clinic, about two blocks from our house. It was my first time at a Tanzanian dispensary, and while my head was too spacey to notice all of the details, it was pretty clear that I wasn’t in “Kansas” anymore. Blood was taken from my hand, I had to poop in a little matchbox, I was given a shot in my butt to bring the fever down, and while I was resting on a sheet-less bed, two of my students who live nearby were running around and playing under the bed to keep me company while I was staring at my (luckily) empty vomit-bucket and trying to seem happy to see them. The standards were different, but when all was said and done, it was concluded that I had malaria and a type of parasite or amoeba or something in my stomach resulting in dysentery-like symptoms. I was given medicine, charged 30,000 shillings, which is extremely exorbitant in this context, but only translates to about 20 USD, and sent on my way. The following night and day were pretty miserable, but now it’s Friday, and I’m feeling almost completely back to normal.

I am learning everyday here. I am learning that malaria absolutely sucks, and that it is so easy to cure if you have access to the correct medicine. I’m learning that if I didn't feel better today, I could have easily gone to a western medical clinic on the ex-pat side of town, which is a place my neighbors could never go to, and I’m learning how to deal with the realities of that disparity between me and the people I am supposed to be accompanying. I am learning that hospitals can make you better even if they aren't sterile-white. And I’m learning other things, too. I can cook food that isn’t Ramen noodles or a microwavable burrito. I can wash dishes without running water. Naweza kuongea Kiswahili kidogo, lakini bado ninajifunza (I’m able to speak a little Swahili, but I’m still learning). I am learning how to teach, and to enjoy teaching. It doesn’t really matter what Kant says about happiness… even after reading my paper, I still don’t really know what his problem with it is. I’m learning that I’m happy here, and I’m happy to be finishing up my first year with all of the new stuff I’ve learned. Bring it on, year two.