History's Scars

During orientation, our field directors emphasized and stressed the presence of corporal punishment in Tanzanian schools. They wanted us to be prepared for the profound culture shock that we would inevitably face within the education system. However, no words or precautions could prepare us for the experiences that laid ahead.

On the first day of school, I was relieved and grateful to learn my school is rare in that it does not implement corporal punishment. However, my roommate, Morgan was not nearly as fortunate. Not only did she bear witness to students being whipped, she was actually pointed to as a source of blame. One of her new colleagues explained that the cycle of physical abuse began centuries ago when white men raided the land. The whites, who whipped and tormented their African victims, are held accountable for validating physical punishment. The teacher continued to push blame on the white race until he concluded with a question to Morgan, "Don't you feel it's your responsibility to end it?"

I can understand the teacher's fury with the white race. Actually, I expected to face more hostility for the actions of my ancestors. However, that's the point the teacher failed to understand. It was our ancestors who created the turmoil in Africa, not us. And if it were me who the man subjected to such aggression, I would have pointed out that his question was hardly necessary. Us being here, trying to make a difference in the schools, in the culture, should be answer enough.

Morgan isn't alone in facing the daily whipping ceremony. Aside from me, every volunteer in the area regularly witnesses physical and mental abuse. Often times, teachers and administrators implement beyond the 3 legal strikes on children, and with more force than necessary. Additionally, there are teachers who emotionally ridicule their students within the classroom. Students who answer incorrectly or get stuck must endure the rest of their peers pointing and chanting "loser." In Tanzania, public shame is seen as a way of enforcing people to do and say the right things. As an American, I perceive this as a way of discouraging students from ever trying. It explains why even at Mtanga, students are hesitant to raise their hand.

While Mtanga does not implement corporal punishment, students are unfortunately not entirely free from the abuse. I learned last week that certain Form 4 students were whipping my Form 1 students after school hours. It wasn't an issue I planned to let go, so I brought it to my headmaster's attention. I hoped that the student would be dealt appropriate repercussions. I expected additional labor around the school, or possibly contact with parents. The last thing I expected was what came to be.

The student, in his last year of secondary school, has been suspended for three months. In a culture where motivation to learn is terrifyingly low, I don't see this as a productive course of action. However, I shouldn't have expected much more. Rather than making an effort to approach the issue, the school has simply scraped it off their property. Now, there's a chance the student may lose any ambition to return to school, even after the three month sentence. I wallow in guilt accepting that I was the determined force behind this student's separation from potential success.

I've come to realize there is no corner in this country that is safe from its harsh realities. In America, we learn that energy can never die, only be transformed. In Tanzania, the same is true for abuse. If its not physical, it's mental. If its not the administrators, it's your peers. And if you think you're being spared, it probably means you're the one dishing it out.