Wednesday, March 30, 2011
How much?
When I got to the office, our acting financial officer recounted going to the bank for April salaries, only to find our account overdrawn. Then the explanation came.... The bank had recently charged us a 1,600 djf ($9) fee to close a subaccount. We had authorized this. However, what they really deducted was $1,600. Apparently, that little symbol means a lot. Our temp then spent several hours at the bank, where they let her move funds in and out of various accounts without even a document proving her affiliation with our organization. And thank goodness. Loaded with our cash, she came back to the office to helped me locate a copy of the fee withdrawal permission document (because the bank had lost the original). She and I then proceeded to read every document in the office, searching for the paper. We found a lot of holes in our filing system -- let's say it was an opportunity for an internal review. But, you know the end of the story: the authorization has completely vanished. Happy tax season, everybody!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
We are going on a field trip... Douda, Douda!
Every year, the CFPEN takes the 2nd year student teachers on a field trip. It is something fun to do as the school year is nearing the end, and frequently gives the pre-service learners a look at the workings of a real village classroom. This year, CFPEN picked Douda Primary School. And, in our first year at the CFPEN, our team was invited to go along too.
The small town of Douda is about 20 minutes from Downtown Djiboutiville. South past the airport and the barbed wire enclosure for the American military Camp Lemonier, throwing distance from Somalia, Douda School has two class buildings which house 6 classes of 206 students, including 112 girls. The director is a jovial man, positively unflappable while 50 student teachers and their 15 encadreurs reorganized the school day, entering classrooms for observation and feed-back sessions, and hosting games and contest for the kids. In the dim spacious classes, brightened by orange and yellow contruction paper signs noting grammar rules and etiquette, the students participated surprisingly well. They jumped up, snapping outstretched fingers, with a hopeful "Moi, Monsieur" in response to the teacher's questions. The lesson required them to differentiate between les animaux sauvages et domestiques.
After the class observations, the student teachers broke into four project groups. Our team divided up between the activities, which included: reading games, surveys and factfinding, arts-crafts and the environment. My group interviewed the school director, Said. He talked about expanding the school during his four years to include the American military-funded enclosure and the director's office, which was formerly an unused indoor kitchen. The school also boasts a spacious outdoor dining area that doubles as a gathering space, a community garden which supplements Ministry cantine rations, and colorful playground equipment from some un-named foreign benefactor.
It is the decharge that defines Douda. This community became the guardian of the landfill as the notorious Balbala ("burning") quartier across town continued to grow. Once, the garbage was buried. But, now that the hole is full, plastic bags, bottles, aluminum cans and the diverse objects available to this vibrant port community lie littered across the horizon. The teeming trash pile has become a lucrative recouperation source for those involved in scrap metal hunting, both locally and across borders. A regular line of vehicles haul garbage in and scraps out along the road that divides the primary school from a new health center construction. And, throughout the day, the steady breeze blows noxious black smoke across the school grounds from trash burning nearby. As we sat on the picnic benches discussing with the director, my group of interviewers began to feel our chests grow tight with asphyxiation. The director explained the battle that generations of leaders have engaged with the Ministries of the Environment and the Interior to move the landfill elsewhere. Together, we discussed the opportunity and challenges the government would face in treating and reclaiming the garbage instead. "The students grow resistant to the pollution over time," Said explained. Which really means that the community exhibits few symptoms and suffers gravely over the long run. Across campus, in another room, my colleague and CFPEN counterparts were establishing an environmental club that could continue to engage this issue.
Despite its dire location, the primary school environment was wonderfully upbeat. The school cantine, two ladies in an open air kitchen comprised of blackened marmites, prepared mountains of spaghetti bolognese (the national meal) and tuna salad baguette sandwiches for the entire crowd. Then, groups wandered off in various directions with our plastic mats to nap. At 3:30 pm, the student teachers formed a line at the water spigot for prayer ablutions and then loaded into the two buses to continue the adventure. Further along towards the Somali border, past a homescratched dirt golf course and makeshift communities, we unloaded at the Decan animal refuge - to see les animaux sauvages face to face.
The small town of Douda is about 20 minutes from Downtown Djiboutiville. South past the airport and the barbed wire enclosure for the American military Camp Lemonier, throwing distance from Somalia, Douda School has two class buildings which house 6 classes of 206 students, including 112 girls. The director is a jovial man, positively unflappable while 50 student teachers and their 15 encadreurs reorganized the school day, entering classrooms for observation and feed-back sessions, and hosting games and contest for the kids. In the dim spacious classes, brightened by orange and yellow contruction paper signs noting grammar rules and etiquette, the students participated surprisingly well. They jumped up, snapping outstretched fingers, with a hopeful "Moi, Monsieur" in response to the teacher's questions. The lesson required them to differentiate between les animaux sauvages et domestiques.
After the class observations, the student teachers broke into four project groups. Our team divided up between the activities, which included: reading games, surveys and factfinding, arts-crafts and the environment. My group interviewed the school director, Said. He talked about expanding the school during his four years to include the American military-funded enclosure and the director's office, which was formerly an unused indoor kitchen. The school also boasts a spacious outdoor dining area that doubles as a gathering space, a community garden which supplements Ministry cantine rations, and colorful playground equipment from some un-named foreign benefactor.
It is the decharge that defines Douda. This community became the guardian of the landfill as the notorious Balbala ("burning") quartier across town continued to grow. Once, the garbage was buried. But, now that the hole is full, plastic bags, bottles, aluminum cans and the diverse objects available to this vibrant port community lie littered across the horizon. The teeming trash pile has become a lucrative recouperation source for those involved in scrap metal hunting, both locally and across borders. A regular line of vehicles haul garbage in and scraps out along the road that divides the primary school from a new health center construction. And, throughout the day, the steady breeze blows noxious black smoke across the school grounds from trash burning nearby. As we sat on the picnic benches discussing with the director, my group of interviewers began to feel our chests grow tight with asphyxiation. The director explained the battle that generations of leaders have engaged with the Ministries of the Environment and the Interior to move the landfill elsewhere. Together, we discussed the opportunity and challenges the government would face in treating and reclaiming the garbage instead. "The students grow resistant to the pollution over time," Said explained. Which really means that the community exhibits few symptoms and suffers gravely over the long run. Across campus, in another room, my colleague and CFPEN counterparts were establishing an environmental club that could continue to engage this issue.
Despite its dire location, the primary school environment was wonderfully upbeat. The school cantine, two ladies in an open air kitchen comprised of blackened marmites, prepared mountains of spaghetti bolognese (the national meal) and tuna salad baguette sandwiches for the entire crowd. Then, groups wandered off in various directions with our plastic mats to nap. At 3:30 pm, the student teachers formed a line at the water spigot for prayer ablutions and then loaded into the two buses to continue the adventure. Further along towards the Somali border, past a homescratched dirt golf course and makeshift communities, we unloaded at the Decan animal refuge - to see les animaux sauvages face to face.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)