Note: I’m posting this without photos or links because my internet has been down all morning and is still cutting in and out. I did put the photos in a Picasa web album that can be found here.

Last Tuesday I had the opportunity to join 4 grade six classes who have been studying human migration on a field trip to the Kenyan border.

We loaded on to three of the smaller school buses taking along buckets of drinking water, food, dishes and spoons. The students were doubled and tripled up in the seats and some were even sitting on the buckets in the aisles. Once everyone was ready, a student led us in a short prayer and we set out at about 9:15 am.

Before we departed it was announced that since we couldn’t bring along the chai that is usually served at morning break we would stop to buy juice and biscuits along the way. We stopped at one grocery store and several teachers who were on the other buses went in and came out fairly quickly. After another few kilometres we stopped for much longer at another grocery store, as it turned out they had been unsuccessful at the first. This time we had to wait for around 20 minutes but they did get what we needed.

Namanga is around 120 km from the school and the road is fairly decent. However by the time we got there, it was later than expected (nearly noon) and the immigration officer who was supposed to be our host was nowhere to be found. A couple teachers went off to see what they could do while we unloaded the students and set up to have snack. Buckets of water and cups were unloaded to set up hand washing stations and some of the students passed maandazi, biscuits and juice boxes to the others as they filed by the windows of one of the buses. I rustled up an empty box for the rubbish but the students quickly explained that it was ok to throw it in shallow pit where other things had obvious been burned. I chatted with students while various reports about the status of our guide trickled in – he had gone to the mosque to pray, he had gone home, there was another official who was willing to fill in but he wanted to know what was in it for him. I never did find out what the actual story was but eventually one man did give us a tour. In the meantime, I had learned the Swahili word for fart (jamba, not to be confused with jambo – hello), had a conversation with one student about why he plans to marry a mzungu (foreigner) instead of a Tanzanian (which included him gesturing to his schoolmates and saying, “These girls know my behavior.”), my marital status, age and why I didn’t have children, and plans for the student who wants to marry a foreigner to come to the library at recess the next day for a French lesson. The boys were quite disappointed that I had never met a premier league footballer face to face and that I didn’t even recognize most of the names of their favourite players let alone know which teams they played for.

Our tour started with the students gathered under a tree while the immigration official filled them in on the different sorts of passports and travel documents they issue to Tanzanians. The students carefully took notes and asked pertinent questions. Next each class filed into the departure office one at a time and as various people came in to get their passports stamped into to exit Tanzania the students stood behind the official on duty. He showed them what appeared on his computer screen as he scanned passports, let a student try the fingerprint machine and showed them immigration cards and the like. When the line got long, our guide also took care of some of the people and also provided a running commentary of what he was doing. Meanwhile I was merrily snapping photos of the proceedings. I still can’t believe we were allowed on the other side of the counter and that it was fine to take photos.

After each class had had a turn, we gathered together and walked out of Tanzania, across a short “no man’s land” and crossed into Kenya. Our guide went and found a Kenyan official who was willing to come out and answer a few questions for our students. I started to take some photos but some students were quick to point out that there was a no photos sign in front of the building.

We returned to Tanzania, loaded back on the buses and set out for school. After about 20 minutes or so on the road, we pulled over to have a late lunch (it was 3:30 pm by this time). Again hand washing stations were set up and some students set to dishing out plates of pilau (rice with bits of vegetables). One of the bus drivers filled a plate and passed it to a young Maasai boy sitting by the road. Another boy arrived a bit later, after all the food had been passed out but several of us contributed some of ours and we were able to give him a plate too. The driver also filled a 1.5 L bottle with water for each of them. A little later two Maasai men come along on bicycles with empty jugs draped over the backs. The students filled the jugs with our leftover drinking water. I’m not sure how they knew to come by.

We piled back on the buses and set out again. The students were energized by the lunch and it was a loud rowdy trip the rest of the way. By the time we dropped them off at the boarding houses it was 6 pm. It was one of the longest, dustiest field trips I have ever been on and I was exhausted. However the words of one of the immigration officers resonated with me. He was very impressed by the students’ questions and knowledge about the immigration process and had a long conversation with one of our teachers about the international curriculum and teaching methods that are being used at the school. The conversation ended with the official declaring that in 10 years time the students will bring about change in Tanzania that will move the country forward.