Mwaka Mpya

The title means, "the new year." I have abandoned this blog for a little while, mostly due to the holidays and a two-week long In-Service training. I've had some ups and downs since then . .. planning projects and grants, celebrating the new year on a beautiful beach off the coast of Dar-es-Salaam, further training in HIV/AIDS care and awareness as well as sustainable gardening techniques. I came home from the two week training to find a few things had been stolen through a window of my house and my mother cat and three of her kittens had all died. The last one had died two days after I returned, the result I believe, of intestinal worms. I hit a low point then, thinking that I could have saved them had I only gotten them to fully eat their anti-worm pills. But one kitten still remains . . . and i can't decide on what to name her. Something cute, like "pili-pili" which means pepper . .. or "chupi" . .. which is just a plain ole' cute word . .. but it means underwear ;)
Things are going along as usual but for the most part, it has been uneventful . .. or maybe I'm just becoming increasingly familiar with the lifestyle here. It has in a way, lost it's newness . .. but then there are times where i catch myself and say, "oh, right, I'm in Africa . .. "

One such instance happened the other day as I was walking back from the main road to my village. I had missed the one bus back from town, so I had to hike the 8k by foot . .. which does't sound like much, but with a backpack full of groceries, up and down unforgiving hills, it can take it's toll. It had taken me over two hours to hike back, and I was almost to my village, perspiring profusely and muttering to myself about how much i wish I could have a motorcycle or a landrover like so many other NGO workers and the like, I looked up to see two children turning around and smiling at me. They greeted me while running along to keep up with who i assumed to be their father walking his bicycle up a hill, full of supplies from town. He then smiled and greeted me as well, saying "Unajitaidi sana! sana!" He was telling me that i try very, very hard. But when i looked down, they had no shoes on their feet . . .
My villagers have told me on several occasions how impressed they are that I can walk long distances . .. they thought white people could only drive cars or ride bicycles. I say that we have legs, too . .. and they just laugh.

Two days ago, I decided to visit a friend in a nearby village before heading into town together to stock up on supplies and get our bi-monthly stipend. I was literally down to my last 3,000 shillings or so .. . about $3.oo. It took me 2,500 tsh to take a small bus to the stop off the main road where she lived. Unfortunately, the bus driver did not stop where I had asked and so i therefore had to get off the bus and hop back on another coaster in the opposite direction . .. and pay another 500 shillings . . . my last 5oo. Needless to say, I was irrate. People looked at me as I huffed and rolled my eyes about their missing my stop, I mean, I didn't know where the heck I was going, they were supposed to know. I gave them the name, they were supposed to stop. A woman turned and smiled and laughed at my troubles . .. as they always do here, which only unnerved me even more. When they stopped I sarcastically yelled in the bus driver's face, (Nashukuru Sana!) "Thank you so very much . . ." and threw my bags off the bus onto the side of the road . .. reeling in my head that if i were in America, I would cry justice and my full ticket would be reimbursed and they would have to personally drive me back to my said destination . .. but this is Africa. Things don't work that way here . .. there are no return policies, no customer service . .. just mild frustrations and a "tough luck" attitude . ..
A man came running up to me, picking up my bags and asking where are you going? what happened? blah, blah, blah . .. and i just looked at him angrily and in English asked him, "Why do you need to know?!" He just looked at me like i was crazy . .. he then flagged down another bus for me and made sure they got me to the stop i was supposed to . ..
I then felt rotten . .. he was just trying to help me out, and i had reacted harshly, wanting to scream at him to just leave me alone, i'm an american woman and i can take care of myself! But I am not used to this sort of help and hospitalitly . .. I take it as insult, as if I can't handle my own. I think that the only reason a man would run up to me to pick up my bags would be to steal them or harrass me . .. but the thing i have to remember here is that there are not only annoying and untrusting people all over, but there are also good, well-doing people all over. I just have to keep my temper under control and have the ability to know the difference between the two.

So, I paid the driver my last 500 shillings, got off at the right stop, and began my 8 kilometer hike . .. just as it was starting to rain. To my luck, the rain never continued more than a light sprinkle for the whole three hours or so it took me to hike to her village. Along the way, i ran into two other volunteers in a nearby village and sat to drink some water and catch up with them. The hike was tiring, perspiring, and seemingly endless . .. but beautiful. I was a bit jealous to see the rolling green hills and surroundings of their villages, they seem almost more "peace corps" than my own village, but then again, maybe it's just the sight of something new. I ran into the other volunteer who was coming to visit as well, and hiked the last leg of the trip with her. We attended a party for the teachers at our friend's primary school and ate rice and roasted meat and warm sodas and beer . .. being pulled up every once in a while to dance with the women. They were so grateful to have visitors and asked repeatedly when we will visit again. Though we came bearing nothing, they fed us well and treated us with great hospitality . .. which is another aspect of Tanzanian culture that i have to remember never to overlook.