So, it’s a fact; I’m rubbish at writing about my life on a regular basis. Last time I put pen to paper (or key to keypad) my good news was that I’d scraped through semester 1. Since then I’ve even passed semester 2! There were a few more tests involved, and an essay which I allegedly plagiarised 43% of. It’s fine though, loads of people write things about cancer so it was bound to be a bit like other stuff out there. It was a massive relief to find out that I wouldn’t need to spend my entire August revising due to the fact that my degree’s actually turned out to be somewhat like hard work.
The main occurrence in my recent past, though, has been going to Tanzania for a month. After over a year of planning, concerts, Irish dancing, and endless plastic bags awkwardly packed in Morrisons in order to raise money, it was actually happening. I spent my days on the paediatric ward of a small hospital, where my total inability to speak Swahili shone through. Fortunately the staff all spoke English, and we had an amazing time seeing things that we’d never get to see in the UK, while spending time with the most welcoming people imaginable. No-one ever complained, all the patients spoke to each other as if they were best friends, and the mothers on the paediatric ward even did all the cleaning!
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| Popular for my hair |
After we’d finished at the hospital, we headed down to the nearby primary school to teach maths in the evening. It was another huge eye-opener with classes of 50 kids who are happy enough just to listen to you speak, and occasionally shout mzungu (white man) at you while stroking your hair. This was another thing that isn’t exactly a frequent occurrence in England - although I’m not sure how comfortable I am with strangers stroking my head, arms and legs on a regular basis. I do miss being waved at by random people in the street, though. The long days (sunrise at 6.30 every morning) generally finished with a walk up to the secondary school where we’d take sports equipment and play with the students there (mainly boys) and feel much, much uncooler than them. Contrary to popular opinion, though, we don’t know Rihanna just because we’re white. And no, we can’t get you her number…
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| Mount Kilimanjaro |
The weekends were equally amazing, as we went up to the base camp of Kilimanjaro on one weekend, and on safari the next! Mainly though, Saturdays were spent venturing into town to be followed by hagglers as we struggled to wade our way to the internet café (only to find out that the power cuts that happened about 500 times a day meant that usually, the internet café wasn’t even ‘on’.) It’s hard to sum up our experience to Tanzania in brief. We went with the aim of changing attitudes in various different respects: the attitude of Tanzanians to English people, the attitude of English people to Tanzanians, and the way that we all see the world around us. Fortunately, my brother Dave ensured that the lads in his English class were well equipped for life ahead during his discussion, in which he had to answer a few awkward questions: “No, class, excessive masturbation does not cause AIDS”. Glad we cleared that one up.
I’ve barely given an insight into even a fraction of the time I spent there, but, as I can tell I’m probably boring you already, so if you want to read a bit more, check out: http://thornleightanzania.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html. Different posts are by different people, starting with ‘the night before’, by Dave.
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| Me and my kids |
I’m in my second year of uni now, and for most people that means getting a house. The upside of this is that your drug-taking/terribly messy/massively socially awkward flatmates have been gotten rid of forever. The downside is that I’m obviously well old, with my own house. Although I’ve absolutely loved it, it’s not been without its problems (gas leak, carbon monoxide scare, plug socket failure, wonky toilet and broken locks). A constant problem, though, is the flies in the kitchen. To combat this, we decided to buy a venus fly-trap, which I am sad to say hasn’t quite done the trick, and is now dying. The 5cm big ‘Dominator’, as it was affectionately named by my housemates, has failed. Can’t complain though, even with the unbelievable amount of work, I’m still really enjoying uni, and I have succeeded in fathering 12 kids! (In this instance, that means I’m a mentor to 12 first-years, rather than an actual parent to actual children, much to the relief of my parents, I’m sure)
Having come back from Tanzania with nothing else in the pipeline, I felt the need to do something useful with my life. Somehow, me and my housemate Josh came to the conclusion that we wanted to run a marathon, and after a week of searching for a place, our application to run the London Marathon was accepted. As you probably know, I’ve got a hearing impairment, and so we’ve decided to run the marathon for a charity called Sense, which supports people who are deaf and blind – a top cause, as it gives people some of the many chances that I’ve had in my life that they wouldn’t otherwise have. And for the privilege of running 26.2 miles whilst being overtaken by people dressed as Spongebob Squarepants? I have to raise £1,500. Clearly I've gone mad. If you fancy sparing your change or just finding what's possessed me to commit to such a task, have a read: http://www.justgiving.com/Joseph-McFarlane
Cheers!
