Teaching computer skills

I promised to write something about my work as well. At KYP, students can learn hotel and catering, tailoring and design, automechanics or autoelectrics. There are two intakes: one in July and another one in January. I teach computer skills to all of these students, and that forms the biggest part of my work.

The July intake had already had lessons with Maiju but with the January intake, I started from zero. With them, I started with Microsoft Word. With most of the July intake groups, we are going through absolute and relative cell references in Excel. It's my favourite topic, but apparently not so popular with the students.

I knew teaching computer skills would probably be difficult but the reality still succeeded in surprising me. I've more or less lived my whole life with computers starting from my brothers' Commodore 64 and Amiga 500. (Admittedly spending countless hours playing Stunt Car Racer didn't necessarily improve my computer skills that much.) Last years, I've spend most of my days in front of a computer and I consider myself pretty good at using Word and Excel. However, here most of my knowledge is absolutely useless.

From the January intake, most of the students had never before even seen a computer. I needed to start with how to hold a mouse. Now, I've also really seen how stupid the Windows user interface is. It takes from the students forever just to start Microsoft Word. ”Click on the Start-button and go to Programs. Then move right and go to Microsoft Office. No, don't move down, now you have to go back to Programs. Yes, you need to move first to right and only then down. Ok, now Microsoft Office, now move right and go to Microsoft Word. Oh no, now go back to Programs...” It doesn't obviously help that some of the mouses are not very good, making everything even more complex.

The students are usually enthusiastic about the computer lessons. Some of the classes are quite big, so I've divided them in smaller groups. With most of the groups, there are two students per computer, a bit depending on how many of the computers are working (there are five computers). Sometimes it's difficult to get all the students to use the computers equally. Another obvious problem is that most of the students have no possibility to use computers outside the classroom, so without repetition they easily forget things that were taught earlier. This is what makes teaching so difficult. It frustrates me to repeat things like using a shift key and therefore I feel often that I'm a bad and impatient teacher. Luckily, some of the groups get on really quickly, and find new functions on their own. (However, I don't understand why the students always find the most useless functions in Word and never the useful ones. I've seen several students finding how to change the font color to turqoise or using wordart but never one who would've figured out using styles or even bullets and numbering.)

Teaching Excel brings some additional problems. I try to come up with practical examples but apparently they are not always that practical for students. For example, I made them do some percentage calculations to demonstrate how to change number formats in Excel. I thought this was a great idea, but unfortunately, they either didn't remember how to calculate with percentages or just having a computer in front of them blocked completely their ability to do any kind of calculations. I've seen the same thing happening to some students in a technical university, so it shouldn't have really come as a surprise. Realizing that has hopefully improved my teaching.

"Marry me and take me to America!"

On my first day here, I got my first lesson on what it's like to be the different one. I was at my new home already in the afternoon before the children got home. As my staying there was organized so late, they didn't know it until they got home and saw me. The smallest one started crying immediately after seeing me and stayed away from me or started crying when the others were trying to force her to greet me. That lasted about the first week. During the second week, I bribed her by bringing loads of yogurt (she prefers yogurt even over ice cream).

I get a lot of attention whenever I walk along Los Angeles road or close to my home in Kamwala South or Chawama. Apparently, people stare at me but I don't really notice it. I usually keep my eyes on the ground both to watch my step and to avoid any additional attention. Knowing that people stare at me annoys me only if I do something stupid, such as trip on my own feet or walk around a building for the third time to find an entrance, because then I know that I can't just blend in but instead everybody notices what I do. And anyway, I stare at other white people when I see them, so it would be unfair to complain about that.

I answer easily fifty times a day the question ”How are you?”. I always try to answer if I notice that someone is greeting me, though sometimes it's difficult when kids yell greetings so far away that I don't see where they are. I also hear the word mzungu, meaning white person, often. Besides that there are a lot of other possibilities as well: white miss, whitie, white man(!), white girl with gumboots, mrs mzungu, madam, pretty lady, pretty girl, honey, dear, sweetheart, sweetie, my girlfriend, my wife... For the last ones, I don't usually reply anything but just give a scornful look. Otherwise, I normally wave my hand. One more variety is calling me by a random name: Mary, Catherine, Irene, Brigdget, Linda, etc. hoping that I will correct it and tell my name.

People often want to talk with me. I normally never stay if they try to stop me on the street but if they are walking in the direction or it happens in a minibus, I of course talk with them. Some discussions are such that I get very quickly asked for my phone number. Sometimes, if it seems that the other person is not easily offended, I just say directly no. Otherwise, I usually lie that I don't have a Zambian mobile number.

Some discussions can be nice as well: one day at the Kuku market, a man asked from me that doesn't it get on my nerves when everybody stares me. We talked a while about that and he said that he wouldn't be able to take it. Then he asked the usual questions on what I do here etc. However, he didn't ask whether I'm married or my phone number.

I get marriage proposals regularly but it's not as bas as I anticipated. So far, they've been just random comments on the streets whereas I was more afraid of discussions that would end with me trying to convince someone that he really doesn't want to marry me. It has happened to me elsewhere and I really don't know how to handle those situations.

Occasionally, I get also asked for money. I say always no, but it does leave me with a guilty consciency, because the sum they ask is usually 1 000 kwachas, i.e., ~0.15 euros.

I probably don't even notice majority of comments directed to me or about me, as many of them are said in Nyanja or Bemba, the local languages. One afternoon, our minibus was stuck in the traffic, and there was a guy trying to sell something from the minibus windows. He started talking to me in Nyanja, so I had no idea what he was saying but the non-verbal part told me that it wasn't anything nice. I didn't really care but I did appreciate it when one man from the minibus defended me in Nyanja, and made him shut up.

All this is of course tiring but so far I've snapped only once: I was walking home from Snow White on sunday evening. I had just returned from the weekend trip to Lake Kariba and it was already late, and I knew I had to hurry up because it would soon be dark. It had just rained, and I wasn't wearing my gumboots because I hadn't wanted to take them with me to Siavonga. The road was bad, and I was doing everything I could to avoid stepping on the water, but at the same time I was walking as fast as I could. At one point, I was walking on the side of the road, very close to trees and bushes. It was tricky because I had my backpack and it hit the branches continuously. The road was drier in the middle but I didn't want to cross because I wasn't sure how deep the water was in between. At this point, one women started shouting: ”Step into the water! Step into the water! You are in Africa now! You are not anymore in Europe!” I tried to walk even faster, but she continued that ten or fifteen times, and also after I had found a place to cross to the center of the road. At that point, I snapped and shouted ”Shut up!”. A brief, and not very polite discussion with her followed, after which I continued walking fast, and she continued yelling the same thing. I'm obviously not very proud of yelling at her but I still find her annoying because many others were doing the same things to avoid stepping into the water.

There is also one thing that immediately ruins my mood: If somebody touches me. I try not to show how annoyed I am if it is a small child just touching me. However, if it is a man who grabs my arm to stop me and to talk with me, I get an immediate escape reaction, which makes me wrestle my arm free, and walk away as fast as possible. So far, I've been able to control myself and I haven't yelled at anybody in these situations but it does upset me.

My way to work and home

When I leave work, I walk first along Los Angeles road. The road is filled with people trying to sell something. The products range from clothes and shoes to pots and pans, toothbrushes and tootpaste and any sort of foodstuffs. I hear plenty of shouts around me and if someone greets me, I usually try to greet them back. I walk to the city market, where I have to ask which minibus goes to Chawama. There are no signs on the buses, so asking is the only way. Now, the people there already recognize me, and direct me to the right bus.

I get on the right minibus and then we wait for the minibus to fill. This means four persons for each row that are actually meant for three. However, I've never seen anyone saying that the minibus is so full that they don't take anyone anymore; instead, there is always room for one. Having no timetable might sound bad, but for someone, who regularly misses the bus she is targetting and thus waits the maximum time, it is usually pretty good arrangement.

While we are waiting, there are usually people coming to sell all kinds of things from the minibus windows. Selling drinks or snacks I can understand, but sometimes the things are plain odd, like combs, toothbrushes or toys. Usually the bus fills reasonably quickly, as there are a lot of people travelling to the direction of Chawama. However, during the rush hour there are a lot of minibuses leaving at the same time, so sometimes we have to wait for a long time just to get out from the city market and to proceed the first kilometer.

After the minibus leaves, we pay 3000 kwachas (~50 cents) to the conductor. As also the aisle has seats, the conductor cannot move so other passengers pass the money on. I get off at Snow White. (There is a butchery named Snow White there. No, I don't have an idea either why anybody would name a butchery Snow White.) The bus continues further to Chawama market and to John Howard.

From Snow White, I walk through Kuku market. First the road is really busy but little by little there are fewer stalls and there is more room to walk. Then I walk through some yards along a smaller path. Here in these houses, there are usually some kids who greet me daily. Sometimes there is a big choir yelling "How are you?". On a good day, I greet them all back but on a bad day I have energy only for the first few. Then I walk a short way along a railway line, and turn left to walk through a maize field. Now, the field is flooded, so I have to walk a bit further to go around it. Then, I'm in Kamwala South, so it's only a short way to home. The whole way takes about an hour, depending on the traffic. I could probably walk the whole way to work in the same time.

In the beginning, I was very worried whether I'd find my way, but luckily there are some unforgettable landmarks.

To go to work, the procedure is the same. The bus leaves from Snow White, and also from there, there are buses going to different places in the city center, but I always take a big bus that brings me to Soweto market. The big buses are more comfortable: they have seats for four people in a row and only four people are actually expected to sit there. Well, except for the back row, there are always five people, and of course if there are more people coming to bus, then it is five in a row... For some reason, the price in this direction is only 2000 kwachas.

Travelling with minibuses is full of surprises: perhaps the biggest possible one happened earlier this week: the (big) minibus left from Snow White even before it was full. I had gone to almost empty minibus, and for a reason unknown to me, the driver didn't wait it to fill, but instead we collected people on the way to city center. Some surprises are maybe not that surprising: Once the minibus broke down. Luckily, pretty soon another empty minibus came and picked us up.

A short holiday

Last weekend was a long weekend because friday was the Youth Day. Another volunteer and I decided that we needed a short break from Lusaka. There are not many interesting destinations close to Lusaka that are reachable with public transportation, so Siavonga and Lake Kariba were very soon fixed as our destination.

I took the minibus to Siavonga on friday. I had bad luck, and got the worst seat in the minibus, the one between two seats, so the three hour journey wasn't much of fun despite the beautiful scenery. However, the pain was well rewarded in Siavonga. My travel companion went to Siavonga already earlier, and she had found us an amazing lodge with a beautiful view to the lake.

We spent the three days by purely enjoying life. The lodge had all the wonders of modern world, such as running water, hot shower and free internet. Besides them, we enjoyed the two swimming pools and great food, like pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast, and barbecue in the evening.

The weather was ridiculously hot, so we barely moved anywhere from the lodge. We spent most of the time at the pool talking, reading, swimming and taking photos of each other in the pool. We went also for a boat cruise on the lake and visited the Kariba dam. We met some nice Germans who had a car and who took us with them to the dam as it is seven kilometers away from the village.

Otherwise, we just talked with each other and with other volunteers: shared our experiences, gave tips for Lusaka on bars, shops, and internet cafes, which allow you to connect you own laptop (I'm very soon becoming a specialist in this!). I also succeeded in spreading my addiction to mobile Facebook.

On sunday, we had to return to Lusaka. The minibus journey was longer but more comfortable, as we had the best seats in the bus. The minibus did dozens of stops, and it was loaded with a live chicken, fish (dead), coal, vegetables, and a number of people as well. After coming back, Lusaka didn't seem particularly inspiring but luckily it's only two and a half weeks until Easter.

Rainy season

When I left Finland, the only topic for small talk was the weather: the huge amount of snow, and the coldness. Weather is a popular topic for small talk here as well but we talk about rain and floods.

I came to Zambia in the middle of the rainy season. The rains are supposed to start around December or January but this year they started very late, in the beginning of February. The rain can both continue for several hours or just come as a heavy shower. While the rainy season is of course necessary, it also brings problems with it. Already some areas are so badly flooded that people have had to move away from their houses. In tv, they also warned of possible cholera outbreaks.

In Kamwala South (where I live), the roads are at the moment in an awful state, but I haven't seen flooded houses. The worrying part in the beginning was that here the water wasn't really moving anywhere. I was told that there is no proper drainage system. Then one day, we were wondering why around Snow White the situation seemed worse compared to the day before even though there wasn't much of rain. When we got back home, the mystery was solved: the water is actually moving now, slowly but surely.

Seeing the roads now also solved the question why they are in such a bad condition. Driving a car on the roads requires an experienced driver, but also walking is tricky if you don't have gumboots. You have to jump over the ponds, and sometimes the distances can be too long. For the locals, the only thing that is funnier than a white girl jumping over the puddles is a white girl failing in that. I bought a pair of gumboots pretty quickly, but I still need to be careful where I step as even the gumboots are not enough everywhere.

Last weekend it didn't rain anymore, so I am hoping that the rains are ceasing now. Soon, I will miss them as already now, after three days of sunshine and warm wind the roads are so dusty that you have to close your eyes when a car passes you.

(The house in the picture is from the neighborhood but not our house.)

Random notes from my first weeks in Lusaka

Before coming here I searched for material about Zambia. I found one brochure from the internet that had some pictures on the front cover. One of the pictures showed Victoria Falls, and another one showed a perfectly normal road in a good condition. I guess the picture was supposed to show how Zambia is a modern country with good roads, but somehow it did the opposite. I remembered this thought on monday, my first day here, after we had been driving around Lusaka on perfectly good roads for some time. I had noticed that too few lanes seemed to be a bigger problem than the condition of the roads. Immediately after that thought came to my mind, we turned to a smaller road, to the road that takes me home. That was in such a bad condition that I would've never believed possible. The driver managed extremely well but at times I was really worried as there was also a lot of water on the road.

...


Good news: My name seems to be difficult to remember (and I mean my first name as with my surname that's no real surprise). I am really bad with names and I find it always embarrassing when I don't remember other people's names so it is actually a relief.

Sometimes this leads to funny situations. Couple of times, something like this has happened when someone has tried to start a conversation with me on my way to work:
-What's your name?
-Anu
-What?
-Anu
-Why can't you tell me your name?

...


I knew that one of the topics that the earlier volunteers had taught was communication skills, but I was really hoping that I wouldn't need to teach that. The reasons for that are numerous: I don't consider myself very good in that, I don't have that much information, and communication is so culture dependent that it is difficult to teach the others what they should do - the risk is they might even believe what I say. So, I went to organize the computer classes with one the teachers. The discussion went something like this (it was in reality longer and had probably a lot more misunderstandings):
-Will you be teaching also communication skills?
-Well, I would prefer not, because it is so culture-dependent.
-So when do you want to teach the communication skills? We could make space for that for fridays.
-[???]
-Do you want to teach also the older class?
-I've seen what Maiju has done with them, and I think she has gone through the most important points with them, so I don't think it is necessary.
-So you'll teach them also.
-[???]
So, yes, I will be teaching communication skills.

...

The work permit can only be paid by check, so I had to organize that. I thought that it would be a simple thing of just going to a bank, paying, and then receiving a check immediately. First glimpse of that there might be more to this was when I heard meantioned how last time it went really fast because it took only one day. Therefore we went to the same bank. However, this time it didn't happen quite that swiftly: I had to wait for the check for one week, and even then there was a mistake. It also costed 80 000 kwachas to prepare a check for 500 000 kwachas.

...

Zambian immigration office has USAID computers. The office is also full of posters warning of corruption.

...

My hair is very popular with the children of the family. From a Finnish perspective there is nothing interesting in my hair: it's long but not that long. However, here it is exceptionally long, as it is altogether my own hair. The children are envious, as their hair just simply doesn't grow that long and also my hair is a lot smoother.