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September 30th, 2009
Hello, Bonjour, & Mambo to everyone!
Here it is – what we’ve all been waiting for – the beginning of my Canada World Youth exchange! I am now in Peterborough with my CWY team, and here is the story of that...
After having arrived at the family’s house in Ottawa in the beginning of September, I stayed for long enough to, unpack, re-pack, visit the National Art Gallery, spend some time with the family, pelt Harry with his nerf-guns, and draw a huge reproduction of a full-page manuscript illumination from the Book of Kells on Dad’s chalkboard-painted door – about a week. After that I said goodbye to Mom, Harry and Clouseau, and Dad and I drove down to Toronto to witness the exhibit of the Dead Sea Scrolls at the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM). We stayed at a neat little hostel in downtown with a restaurant in the cellar, a gigantic cathedral on one side and the Toronto stock-exchange on the other. Spending a full day at the ROM, we viewed the 2000 year-old (and over) gospels from Qumran, on the coast of the Dead Sea, and their accompanying artifacts. Seeing inscribed bricks from the original Temple Mount of Jerusalem juxtaposed with extremely fragile and ancient relics including not only parchment, but also papyrus, linen fabric, palm-leaf basketry, and improbably thin woolen nets from the time of Christ was a revelatory experience. After spending many hours marvelling over the scrolls (even my stomach clock was too distracted to tell the time until I got out of the exhibit at around 3 o’clock) we had a quick lunch at a hotdog-stand (where my Dad, Ray John, met a co-world-domination-conspirator Ray Von), and rushed back to view other amazing exhibits of medieval and Renaissance arms, armour, statues and furniture. Having arrived right at opening time in the morning, we ended our day at the museum rushing through rooms of Cypriot terra-cotta model chariots, busts of Thusidides and Herodotus, Corinthian helms, and Alexandrian tetradrachmas as we were being called out for closing time. Dad and I enjoyed a very nice last dinner together at a friendly and inexpensive Thai restaurant (I believe it was ‘Golden Thai’, for future reference), and spent a last night at the hostel.
The following morning, on the 9th hour of the 9th day of the 9th month of the 2009th year of the Gregorian calender, I was sitting cross-legged outside of the Toronto Canada World Youth office with my backpack, violin case, and 50 lbs. suitcase. I was soon admitted into the office, and my fellow CWY participants began to arrive. Scott, a Katimavik alumni of London, Ontario; Andrea, from a small town north of Toronto but who had lived in such far-flung parts of Canada as the Yukon; and Edith, a professional English/French/Spanish translator from Gatinau, Quebec (who’s impressive linguistic skills would make her one of the most valuable members of our team) all arrived at the office, and we went for a stroll around Chinatown and the Kensington Market. We caught a big school bus, with our facilitator, Liz, to the airport to pick up our remaining Canadian participants. There we met Colin, a journalist from Prince Edward Island; Marie-Josee (called MJ), a sporty and fun-loving citizen du Montreal; Sean, a humorous guy from Winnipeg; Sally, from New Brunswick, although born in Melasia; and Jean-Phillipe, a fellow fencer from Quebec, all of whom had flown in. It was interesting to note that all but two of us were of different signs of the zodiac, and we varied in more ways than that. At 19 years old, I was the youngest of all of the Canadians, the rest of whom had done university and were in their twenties. We drove out and met our Canadian Project Supervisor – Julie Pyon – at a peaceful, secluded former convent school outside of Hamilton, where we would spend our orientation week. We inhabited our dormitories, gathered for sessions and games, and by the time we retired for dinner we had melded into an inseparable family. We were the only group spending the night in the big, dark building full of statues and broadly-framed paintings, and several of the boys reported the sounds of mysterious piano-playing and large numbers of people moving down the hallways when none were there...
The following day was the one we’d been awaiting – the day our Tanzanian counterparts would arrive. After breakfast we gathered in the craft room to design and paint a banner to welcome them, which said on it: “Welcome! Karibu! Bienvenue!” The paint was mostly dry when an urgent whisper called “Quick, they’re here!” and we all rushed out the front steps bearing the banner. Laughter, greetings and welcomes filled the air as the two groups intermingled for the first time, and I piped “Habari za safari?” as I shook the Tanzanian’s hands, to which they replied with a smiling “Nzuri.” Having introduced ourselves to Suzan, Jackson, Saome, Frank, Deborah, Tegemeo, Sarah, Norbert, Rahel, and their supervisor Hoyse, we helped them lug their bags to the dormitories, then headed out to the field to toss Sean’s football and frizz-bee between us.
It is hard to describe a group of friends in analytical terms, but considering that I am planning an education in anthropology I should probably give it a whirl. The Tanzanian team consisted of well-educated youth, mostly in their twenties and mostly Catholic, but with two members being younger and one a Muslim. There were several from Arusha, in the northern part of the country (near Kilimanjaro), one from the north west (near the Rwanda/Uganda borders), one from Zanzibar, and some from the Dar es Salaam area. I had heard from a friend who had been in a CWY exchange and had a Tanzanian counterpart who had poor English. When I mentioned my friend’s experience to Frank he raised his eyebrows and said “so I suppose you expected us all to be that way, did you?” Many of the group were fluent in English, although a few required an English speaker to slow down slightly, and often added an “i” to the end of many of their words. They are very often laughing, smiling or singing, and when asked about their values, the first things that they list are love, respect, manners, and equality.
Time warped during the camp – I will not go into the details which were delightful for us but probably tedious to a reader, but it seemed as though we’d been there and known eachother for as many years as it was in days (although we were not, by any means, bored). Being asked to consider and discuss things that were very deep down in the vaults of our identity which seldom saw the light of day, and to bring them amongst a group was a very enlightening, self-discovering and bonding experience. It established a sense of trusting and connection between us, allowing us to be very honest and open with one another without invoking judgement or offence. But then, I guess a drowning person will cling to what ever he can reach.
On the evening of the Tanzanian’s second day at the camp came the much anticipated moment: the pairing of the counterparts. After dinner we were all called into the main meeting room and were blindfolded and jostled about by our supervisors. Liz struck up some party music on her computer and we could hear Julie and Hoyse murmuring “Is that right?” and “Are we ready?” before we were told, on the count of three, to whip off our blindfolds and turn around. When I turned I found myself facing Jackson Mushi from Mount Kilimanjaro, the youngest member of our group at 18 years old, and we made incomprehensible sounds of joy, hugged twice, and said “Mambo Kaka!” Down the line everyone was laughing, shouting and hugging: Andrea was paired with Rahel, Colin with Tegemeo, Edith with Saome, Frank with Scott, MJ with Sarah, Sean with Suzan, Deborah with Sally, and Jean-Phillipe with Norbert. After spending most of the evening getting to know our counterparts more personally, we all got together for an evening snack and Sally taught us a loud table-clapping game, Sean showed us a cup-clapping game (clap-clap, tippy-tap, clap bang boom...), and MJ and JP did swing dancing between the tables. MJ introduced us to “The Game” which was lost every time it was thought of, and everyone conspired unsuspecting methods of making others loose. The boys retired to bed at quarter to ten, and the snoring chorus began on the hour with a virtuosic duet performing in perfect counterpoint, accompanied by an occasional crescendo from the harmony section. The rest of us were laughing to hard to get much sleep...
We wrapped up our final day of with a big game of soccer (football to the Tanzanians) in which we found that – although we had some fine Canadian players – the Tanzanian boys were unrivalled. We left the camp the following afternoon on a school bus for Peterborough, to meet the host families with whom we would stay for the next three months. We arrived at a Peterborough bed-and-breakfast where the families were gathered in the garden to meet us. When we were ready we arranged ourselves into a long line and filed out into the garden singing and clapping:
“Jambo, jambo bwana.
Habari gani, nzuri sana.
Wageni, mwakeribishwa
Tanzania yetu, hakuna matata...”
After shaking the hands of all of the host families, we presented ourselves in counterpart pairs for selection. Each family had been given a drawing that we had done of an animal (Jackson and I had drawn a “Mamba”, a crocodile), and we had to go forward and imitate our animal until our family recognized us. We were soon claimed by a smiling silver-haired lady, Wendy, who was an ESL teacher. After introducing ourselves and biding a surprisingly difficult good-bye to our team-mates who we would see again in two days, Jackson and I hauled our luggage out to Wendy’s car and she drove us to her house. There her husband Randy, a native Ojibwa artist, came down the steps of the 100 year-old heritage house to meet us and help us with our bags. Inside we met Jiang, a Chinese exchange student at Trent who was staying there, and Sam, the cat. Our room had a bunk-bed, which pleasantly reminded Jackson of boarding school, and one of Randy’s paintings on the wall. Wendy and Randy took us for a drive in their car out to the Ojibwa reserve to see Randy’s childhood home and some of his relatives. Randy, who shared his name with one of my Dad’s brothers, had a brother named Ricky, the name of my Dad’s other brother. I had dreamed of having a host family with a lute, but had hopes of finding one with a guitar, and Randy had a compromise between the two: a very nice twelve-string Seagull guitar.
The following day we had free to explore the town, and Jackson and I walked a long ways. Our group met back together the following day at “The Bridge” youth centre and related our experiences and began our week-long Community Orientation Camp. Among other things, we prepared for our volunteer work placements, Educational Activity Days (EADs), and established some committees to help with the running of the exchange, of which I found myself on the Communications and the Morale committees. At the end of the week we were told our work placements for the following six months, and I received my first choice of the Camp Kawartha Environment Centre at Trent, along with my workplace counterpart, Norbert. Coincidentally, Norbert’s counterpart, JP, was paired with Jackson at the Brock St. Mission homeless shelter. On Norbert's and my first day, his host mom drove us out to Trent (and I learned that she was a former SCA member) and dropped us off at the Environment Centre. When our supervisor, Jen, arrived she gave us a tour of the 100% energy-efficient naturally built building. It is mostly straw-bale built, but used several materials for demonstration purposes. Part of the roof is thatched, part is a living or “green” roof, and the rest is galvanized metal for the collection of rainwater. The grey-water is filtered though a series of conventional filters an then into a garden of detoxifying plants, and the toilets are composting. The whole building is passive-solar designed, and receives additional heating from solar-powered under-floor hot-water tubes. Being an education centre, Norbert and I had the job of designing school-group programs and displays, and this we have been working on, three days a week at the library, planning an interactive Grade 3 program about seeds.
On our free time we got together with the whole group, going to public music concerts, roasting marshmallows over a fire in Colin and Tegemeo’s host family’s back yard, watching movies and playing board games. On our first weekend, Wendy drove the whole group out to Randy’s reserve in her school bus for an equinoxal pow-wow. After she’d explained all of the dos and don’ts surrounding the ritual dancing, we walked down and sat on the edge of the dancing ring. At the centre of the pow-wow grounds was a shelter for the drummers and singers who were beating out their powerful music, and in the open ring around it danced the dancers in all of their regalia. There were eagle dancers with extraordinary fans of feathers on their backs, buffalo dancers with horns and painted faces, healing jingle-dancers with brass bells sewn to their dresses, and fancy-shawl dancers who reminded us of the ultimate life-giving importance of women. Seeing the costumed warriors spinning around the ring to the beat of the Big Drum brought us back to the essence of the North American spirit. On one dance, when “all tribes” were invited to come dance, I entered the circle through the prescribed gate and danced around the ring with the dancers.
The following Thursday, on our first Community Activity Day, we travelled on a school bus through the beautiful pastoral landscape to volunteer on an organic farm. There we were greeted by a large, black, loud “ombwa simba” (lion-dog) and Mike and Tera, the farmers of the land. They gave us a tour of their green-houses, vegetable fields, horse and cattle pastures, and wild medicinal plants. They explained to us about farm life and of how they farm in a traditional, environmentally friendly manner. On top of being fully organic, they also use horses to draw their tills and other implements and do their harvesting by hand. We got down to work harvesting beans, onions, pumpkins, squash, and potatoes, and hauled our substantial pickings up to the barn. After a day of enjoyably hard work we said goodbye to our hosts and returned to Peterborough, all cradling our incredibly huge zuccinis that we had picked for ourselves.
A week or so after our arrival, another Chinese exchange student arrived at Randy and Wendy’s: Lam (or Ray) from Makaow. His English was somewhat limited, and after meeting him Jackson did a little dance and said “Now I’m not the only one learning English!” The house now had four cultures in it: two Chinese, two descendants of the British Isles, a Tanzanian and an Ojibwa. It was fun to have Lam, Jackson and I all in the kitchen doing dishes: Jackson would be asking Lam how to say something in Chinese, Lam asking me how to say something in English, and I asking Jackson how to say it in Kiswahili.
On Sunday Jackson went to church and I went with Wendy to an interesting Bah’ai meeting, enjoying the drive through the breath-taking Kawartha scenery. The following Tuesday was our first EAD, organized by Andrea’s team, called the FARCES after the acronym of their combined names. Their EAD was on architecture, and we had a very interesting tour of the downtown area, learning about Peterborough’s unique history and buildings. The second part was held in a very nice heritage house, where we talked about Tanzanian and environmentally friendly architecture. It being Frank’s birthday, Sally, Andrea, Sean, Edith and Saomu went shopping after the EAD, then went to Sean and Suzan’s place to cook a gigantic Chinese birthday feast. Sally was the Iron Chef, and the rest of us her minions as we chopped, baked, wrapped, washed, fried and mixed as directed, and eventually it all came deliciously together. We were a bit worried when Frank, who was tired after the EAD and a long walk to Walmart, decided that he didn’t want to come, but we convinced him that he unfortunately had no choice. After the meal we partook in the Tanzanian tradition of singing as the birthday boy fed us each a piece of cake.
I’ve just finished today’s work with Norbert, but I’m running out of time on the library computer and the power keeps going out in the mild early-autumn storm that we’re experiencing, so I’d better wrap this up. When I began this letter, in the beginning of September, I was in a place of complete insecurity. I was leaving everything, everyone, and every place that I knew behind me, and nakedly entering something new and mysterious. Now, at the end of the month, it is surprising how thoroughly and quickly (so says the calendar...) I have become adapted into something so different from anything that I have experienced before.
If you’d like to be in touch, you can send an e-mail, or a letter to 544 Aylmer St. N., Peterborough, ON., K9H 3W7 within the next couple of months. And what is in store for next month? Work, EADs, Hallowe’en, and... who knows what else? You’ll just have to stay tuned and see!
Your Friend,
Bradley Clements
CWY Volunteer
Peterborough, ON.
