'When I visited a primary school in Old Korogwe I entered a classroom, in which there were about 50 children, through a hole in one of the walls'

'When I visited a primary school in Old Korogwe I entered a classroom, in which there were about 50 children, through a hole in one of the walls'

Frank remembers implementing the Mathmatics Upgrading Project in Tanzania.

Frank Gaynor

Trinity College Dublin

1993

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Frank Gaynor

Work and Employment

Life Story

Tanzania, Africa

1990's

The college Principal, with assistance from the Ministry of Education, identified a team of 7 to work with me on the project, which became known as the Primary Mathematics Upgrading Project (PMUP). The oldest member of the PMUP team was Gasper, who had worked on the Entebbe Mathematics Project in the 1960s. For many years he had worked for the Ministry of Education, and was highly regarded in education circles in Tanzania. At first Gasper was hesitant about what we were trying to do, but once he came on board he was fully committed and an invaluable member of the team. When others questioned what we were trying to do Gasper was always ready to defend us. I could easily be dismissed as an outsider, but Gasper was one of their own. The only expatriate on the team with me was Geraldine Cusack from Dublin. Geraldine concentrated on working with the team in developing materials, and left all the management stuff to me. This worked well for both of us. My main resource materials came from the research centre at King's College, London, where I had studied. With the help of these materials I was confident that I could lead PMUP in the right direction. The college Principal was keen to get me into a VIP chair in an elevated position as often as possible. When I learned that the 1,000 students at the college, male and female, were relying on flush toilets that for most of the time had no running water, I decided to do something about it. With Pauline's approval, we built two or three blocks of long - drop toilets. We also built an incinerator near the girl's hostels. To mark this development the Principal organised a formal opening ceremony. Local dignitaries were invited and I was duly parked in an elevated seat. To mark St Patrick's Day the project donated some footballs and netballs to the college. This resulted in me sitting on a raised platform for hours watching students play netball and soccer with the new balls.When I visited a primary school in Old Korogwe I entered a classroom, in which there were about 50 children, through a hole in one of the walls. The wall was built using locally made cement blocks. At one corner the roof was supported by a single column of loose blocks. During the 1970s many Ujamaa schools were built by the local communities. After the collapse of the Ujamaa experiment many of these schools were neglected and soon started falling apart. In some cases, where the buildings had collapsed, all lessons were taught under a couple of large trees.Primary teachers were very badly paid. Only those who had no chance of another job, or another training course, became primary school teachers.Every two or three weeks we travelled to Dar es Salaam, usually on a Friday. We travelled in the project vehicle, a Toyota Landcruiser, with the project driver. We would leave Korogwe shortly after 6am and hope to be in Dar about 6 hours later. We then spent a couple of hours rushing around Dar, in energy sapping heat, buying supplies for the project. We aimed at reaching the Irish Embassy by 3pm. There, in the smallish open - plan office, we would find Pauline multi - tasking, as only she could do it. It was not unusual to find her with files under one arm, reading a document that was in one hand, and the phone held to her ear with the other hand. In that position she would say 'tell me what you want; I'm listening'. Pauline was excellent. I never left that office disappointed. We would then leave the city and drive the 24km to Kunduchi Beach Hotel. Outside the city centre the main roads were ok, but the side roads were in awful bad condition. At that time Kunduchi BH was very run down; it has since been upgraded to a top - class hotel. By the time we reached Kunduchi we were always exhausted and sweaty, and keen for a refreshing drink and a meal. We never seemed to learn. We always ordered tea, and we always had to wait 30 or 40 minutes before it arrived. Geraldine came with us on most of these outings. Her conversation with the waiter used to go roughly as follows:W: Madam, would you like something to eat?G: What do you have?W: Let me show you the menu.G: I'll have the chicken.W: I'm sorry madam. We do not have any chicken today.G: What do you have?W: We have everything that is on the menu.G: I'll have the fish.W: I must go to the kitchen to check. (Ten minutes later) I'm sorry madam. We do not have any fish today.G: I'm hungry. I want something to eat. Can you get me something? Anything?W: Yes madam. I will go to the kitchen and check.I think it was the Fawlty Towers aspect of the service that kept us coming back. There was always at least one problem with the room - no electricity, no water, or the toilet not flushing. The beach was superb. A few kilometres farther on was the Bahari Beach Hotel, where standards all round were better, and well worth the extra cost. Both hotels had excellent beaches. One Christmas Eve we were in Bahari Beach Hotel with Claire, Fergal and Mags. As we were settling down to our evening meal Lynda walked in and joined us. It was one of the most joyful surprises in my life. A week or two earlier, in a letter to Lynda, Monica had said that we were thinking of going to a seaside hotel for Christmas. Based on this vague piece of information Lynda made a late booking and flew from Dublin to Nairobi. She then set out on a 14 hour bus journey that took her through Arusha, Moshi, Korogwe, and on to Dar. Her arrival at our table was so unexpected and so timely. The following day I was ill with malaria. I don't remember much else about Lynda's visit, but her arrival that night still stands out as a special moment of great joy.I always enjoyed the feel of the warm water and sand between my toes as I walked along the beach. One evening as I walked along Kunduchi beach I saw traces of a fire not far from the water. One of the locals told me that one evening earlier that week a backpacker had been lying on the beach. When she noticed that two boys were running away with her camera she started to shout. A group of villagers who were walking nearby ran after the youths and caught them. They tied the youths to a few pieces of timber, poured petrol on them and set them alight. The following day the police took away the charred remains. Farther along the beach I saw a backpacker stretched out sunning herself, with a small bag on the sand beside her.One evening on our way home from Dar we came on a tragic accident. A truck with a large container had skidded, coming around a bend, and crashed into a bus; 32 people were killed. By the time we arrived a crowd had gathered, and some were busy stealing any valuables they could see from the dead and injured. About a month later a bus left Korogwe for Moshi. At the first level crossing, a few kilometres from Korogwe, it crashed into a train. The bus went on fire and 38 people died. We later heard that the bus driver had been drinking at Korogwe bus station before he drove off. One Saturday morning the local District Commissioner called to our house. She said that two young white people were in the local hospital. They were very confused. She thought it might help if we tried to talk with them. In the hospital we found a young Canadian couple. We managed to have a broken conversation with the girl, but her partner was very confused. They had been working as volunteers near Arusha, and were in the process of moving to a new posting near Morogoro. As they drove down the road from Moshi, with their household effects in the back of a small truck, they were forced off the road at gunpoint by four men. After driving about 2km through an old sisal estate they were robbed of their valuables and forced to drink a yellow substance. After drinking this substance they passed out. A day or two later, as they tried to walk a bit, they were picked up by a man driving through the estate. We brought them to our house, where they stayed for over a week as they gradually recovered physically and mentally. We drove to Tanga, from where I was able to phone the Canadian Embassy in Dar. I don't know what I expected, but I was very surprised and disappointed with the response. They were just not interested, apart from telling me how much it would cost the Embassy to hire a vehicle to travel to Korogwe. About a month later we had another visit from the District Commissioner. This time it was a white man who was in bad shape in the hospital. The DC hoped that we might help in identifying the man. We were unable to help as the man was in a coma. He was moved to KCMC hospital in Moshi. After about 6 weeks of intensive care he recovered sufficiently to be able to carry on a conversation. He was an Israeli citizen. He also had been forced off the Moshi road at gunpoint and forced to drink the yellow substance. For a couple of months we seldom travelled to Moshi. After that the situation seemed to return to normal.

Irish Research Council for Arts, Humanities & Social Sciences (IRCHSS)

Dr Kathleen McTiernan (Trinity College Dublin)

Dr Deirdre O'Donnell (Trinity College Dublin)