Mambolo

Do I call this guy Phillip? Mr. Turray? Principal Turray? Phill? I suppose if I'm going to be working for him for the next several years I should start big... Looks friendly enough. I'm sure he'll be forgiving regardless. "Mr. Principal Turray, my name is Jared Hooley." "Jerly O'day! Nice to meet you!" Close enough. Let the site visit begin.

I was unfortunate enough to have to experience paradise by myself this last weekend. The smells, sounds and colors of the sunsets over fields of technicolor green rice-- the palm trees scattered throughout looking like fireworks in sillhouette, the cool breeze that is constantly filtering across the salty Great Scarcies river, and the slow but contented pace of small-village life in Mambolo shot me through with a feeling of selfishness. Did I really deserve to spend the next two years living in a postcard? The fact that my school has unparalleled laboratory facilities by Sierra Leonean standards, and honestly even surpassing highschools in the United States, only aded to my glee-ridden guilt. Most of the visit consisted of my mind staggering around my (future) green village trying to reconcile any hardships I had been imagining with the reality of the Eden I've been assigned to. Transportation issues? Not a problem. A quick boat ride to the nearest volunteer should only be an hour, and Freetown an expedited four hours by ocean in the open air- rather than in a more costly, time consuming poda. School facilities? Fully equiped and seperate Chemistry, Biology, and Physics laboratories should be sufficient. School integrity? As Mr. Turray was giving me a tour of the school, a courier drove on campus to present him with an award certifying that his school had performed better than any of the multitude of other schools in the district on the WASCE exam. So you see, my village and school are just too good to keep to myself. Fortunately, the house the community is providing exclusivly for me has SEVEN BEDROOMS. (I don't know what I would've done if I didn't have a different bedroom to sleep in every night of the week.) I suppose they thought if my friends had any sense that they'd be visiting often.

I don't get to go back to Mambolo till August, which really is a shame, but Makeni has dished out only good times lately (pretending that day with a 103 fever never happened). We had a staff/trainee wide talent show today accompanied by food and pop as a celebration for completing our first week of teaching at summer school. Honestly I can say I've only been having fun while teaching these kids. They're so used to note copying and pure lecture classes that anything deviating from that absolutely melts their brain's faces off (and if there's one thing I enjoy, it's a good brain face melting). I suppose my class has all the stereotypes that would be found in an American classroom though-- the cluster of girls that would rather sit and chat than listen to whatever the definition of 'respiration' is, the troublemakers that mean well but were just given two, three, or eight times as many shares of energy as they need, and the 'smart' ones in class whose fingers are drained of blood after being constantly held in the air to answer my questions. I know I'm supposed to appreciate the last category most, but really it's the troublemakers that make class an enjoyable battlefield for me. After all, they're the ones that write ridiculous things on their first exams I collected this morning, like- "May God Bless Mr. Hooley. May God make him president and very healthy." or "GOOD LUCK TO MR. BANGURA. HE IS VERY SMART AFTER ALL." And honestly, after glancing at a few of the answers on young mr. Bangura's test.....
Question: Name the first step of the Scientific Process.
Answer: Liquid, Solid, Gas
Question: Name two of the eight characteristics that all living things share in common.
Answer: 1. Goat. 2. Cow.
He's going to need some luck. Anyway, teaching is a blast.

In an unrelated note, I attempted to turn myself back into a respectable homo sapien today. I bought q-tips. It was the closest I've ever come to doing surgery on myself. I let out a tittering giggle when I pictured a midevil battering ram trying to break through the castle walls made of wax in my ear. Without going into too much detail about texture, amount, or color properties, I'll just say I could've made a new candle to light the Salone nights with. My hearing is in HD now.

Take care of each other, and take care of yourselves!