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.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Holidays Abroad
To all those who wonder just how you celebrate the holidays in a small Tanzanian village, well, you really don't. I mean, there is church, obviously. My village is predominantly Christian, with few traditional animist beliefs intermingled. There is no decorating of trees (even though there are pine trees near my village,) there are no exchanging of gifts, and of course, no christmas cookies or fruitcake.
In some of the bigger towns or cities, you can find artificial christmas trees and shiny banners saying merry christmas . .. or my favorite "merry crrysimas" . . . misspellings go unnoticed at times. I received a text message from a Tanzanian friend that said "Heppy Klisimas" . . . many people here mix the "l" sounds with "r" sounds and vice versa . . . My name has also been written "Klistina" at times.
The one question that villagers have asked me multiple times is "what will you eat on Christmas?" Those who can afford it will have rice or pilau with meat. I joined up with a few volunteers in my region and we cooked a small feast together (stuffing, roast pork and beef, home-made bread, spinach salad, home-made cakes and pies all cooked over charcoal or wood-burning stoves) . .. along with a gift exchange and plenty of lounging around and watching christmas movies. (Yes, there was electricity at the guesthouse where we stayed . .. and access to a vcr and dvd player!) My highlight of the day, however, was hiking to a small waterfall near the town of Njombe, where we were staying. I can't say i've ever been able to do that on any previous Christmas.
Of course, I missed my family and friends back home . .. to the point where I had to lock myself in the bathroom for a little bit because I thought I was going to cry. I mean, how could I go through Christmas without my mother's home-made pasta and fried calamari?! But I was fine, it didn't really feel like Christmas, just a nice holiday, an excuse for us volunteers to get together and "do American things." There was no snow, just a bit of rain . .. I made a small tree made out of toilet paper rolls and biscuit wrappers. those are kinds of things you do when you're bored in the village and it's rainy season ;)
I was stricken with some bad news last week of my Host mother's sudden death due to a car accident on her way up north to Moshi. She was so good to me, and I was just talking to another PCV about visiting her next year, and sending her a christmas card . .. and some pictures of us together from my three month stay with her. I found out on the day of her funeral, which was an eight-hour bus ride away, so unfortunately I could not go to say "goodbye" to her. It's an unfortunate thing that we have to deal with death a lot in the peace corps . .. but we were warned in training, "you will lose many friends here" . . . and so far I have lost two.
But loss is often followed by birth . . . and on that note, I watched my cat give birth to five kittens. I woke up one night to hear her making an unusual sound . .. and then when i rubbed my eyes and figured out what was going on, I grabbed my headlamp and a pair of rubber gloves and sat there . .. wondering if i had to do anything. instead, i just rubbed her belly between contractions of each birth . . . and after two hours, was proud of myself for being a good "grandmother." I'm happy to say I have five healthy kittens . .. and have found good homes for each of them.
So, yup, that's what I've been doing the past month . . . making christmas trees out of trash and mid-wifing kittens . . . but as far as volunteering goes . . . I did participate in a batik workshop (a wax-dye process for fabrics) and plan to make a possible income generation project for my orphaned girls group. I have been researching and planning more projects, and will be attending a two week training in January for project implementation and grant writing. . . yeah, i don't even know where to begin to write grants, so this seminar will be more than helpful.
I have been receiving packages of used books for the library project, and i know that three more packages are sitting at the post office waiting for me to pick them up, and I thank you all so much for your donations! I am so very appreciative. At this point, I dont' think I need any more books from home, but instead I need to find a way to get more books written in Swahili. So, if you have some of those stashed away, you are more than welcome to send them. ;)
Happy Holidays to you all back home. . . and remember, someone in Africa is thinking of you all and actually misses the snow and warm fires back home. Traveling is a wonderful, eye-opening experience, but it never expels the need to be with family and friends, especially during the holidays.
love and peace, cris
In some of the bigger towns or cities, you can find artificial christmas trees and shiny banners saying merry christmas . .. or my favorite "merry crrysimas" . . . misspellings go unnoticed at times. I received a text message from a Tanzanian friend that said "Heppy Klisimas" . . . many people here mix the "l" sounds with "r" sounds and vice versa . . . My name has also been written "Klistina" at times.
The one question that villagers have asked me multiple times is "what will you eat on Christmas?" Those who can afford it will have rice or pilau with meat. I joined up with a few volunteers in my region and we cooked a small feast together (stuffing, roast pork and beef, home-made bread, spinach salad, home-made cakes and pies all cooked over charcoal or wood-burning stoves) . .. along with a gift exchange and plenty of lounging around and watching christmas movies. (Yes, there was electricity at the guesthouse where we stayed . .. and access to a vcr and dvd player!) My highlight of the day, however, was hiking to a small waterfall near the town of Njombe, where we were staying. I can't say i've ever been able to do that on any previous Christmas.
Of course, I missed my family and friends back home . .. to the point where I had to lock myself in the bathroom for a little bit because I thought I was going to cry. I mean, how could I go through Christmas without my mother's home-made pasta and fried calamari?! But I was fine, it didn't really feel like Christmas, just a nice holiday, an excuse for us volunteers to get together and "do American things." There was no snow, just a bit of rain . .. I made a small tree made out of toilet paper rolls and biscuit wrappers. those are kinds of things you do when you're bored in the village and it's rainy season ;)
I was stricken with some bad news last week of my Host mother's sudden death due to a car accident on her way up north to Moshi. She was so good to me, and I was just talking to another PCV about visiting her next year, and sending her a christmas card . .. and some pictures of us together from my three month stay with her. I found out on the day of her funeral, which was an eight-hour bus ride away, so unfortunately I could not go to say "goodbye" to her. It's an unfortunate thing that we have to deal with death a lot in the peace corps . .. but we were warned in training, "you will lose many friends here" . . . and so far I have lost two.
But loss is often followed by birth . . . and on that note, I watched my cat give birth to five kittens. I woke up one night to hear her making an unusual sound . .. and then when i rubbed my eyes and figured out what was going on, I grabbed my headlamp and a pair of rubber gloves and sat there . .. wondering if i had to do anything. instead, i just rubbed her belly between contractions of each birth . . . and after two hours, was proud of myself for being a good "grandmother." I'm happy to say I have five healthy kittens . .. and have found good homes for each of them.
So, yup, that's what I've been doing the past month . . . making christmas trees out of trash and mid-wifing kittens . . . but as far as volunteering goes . . . I did participate in a batik workshop (a wax-dye process for fabrics) and plan to make a possible income generation project for my orphaned girls group. I have been researching and planning more projects, and will be attending a two week training in January for project implementation and grant writing. . . yeah, i don't even know where to begin to write grants, so this seminar will be more than helpful.
I have been receiving packages of used books for the library project, and i know that three more packages are sitting at the post office waiting for me to pick them up, and I thank you all so much for your donations! I am so very appreciative. At this point, I dont' think I need any more books from home, but instead I need to find a way to get more books written in Swahili. So, if you have some of those stashed away, you are more than welcome to send them. ;)
Happy Holidays to you all back home. . . and remember, someone in Africa is thinking of you all and actually misses the snow and warm fires back home. Traveling is a wonderful, eye-opening experience, but it never expels the need to be with family and friends, especially during the holidays.
love and peace, cris
Thursday, December 4, 2008
A time to "pumzika"
pumzika, it means rest. And unfortunately, I haven't had much of it lately, but I'm planning on much of it for the next, say, month or so . . .
Lots of goings-on, for village life, that is. I have been busy trying to finish Peace Corps now mandatory VSA (village survey assessment, or something like that) which entailed going from house to house interviewing people and their needs, problems, etc. I have been planning to have testing and information for World AIDS day, organizing songs and skits with my orphan girls' group "kikundi cha kipepeo" and my PLWHA group, and trying to get plans together for holiday trips. Along with all of that, the power has been off and on in the towns that have it, due to storms and such (yes, it does rain in Africa . .. especially during the months of December-April) and internet has been on sporadically, which makes writing and sending my VSA report very trying. I have been completely devoid of energy . . . and have had many unmentionable trips to the bathroom . .. so now i'm in town, just back from the visit to the regional hospital, with the final verdict. amoebas. now i'm just waiting for response from my Peace Corps Medical officer to see what medication i should be taking for that. I feel fine now, but yesterday was another story . .. and with a 5 hour bus ride from where I was trying to write my report in Makembako, to the other side of the region in Iringa, with my head-throbbing from tanzanian music being blared on the Coaster, it was a fun trip into town . ..
I had testing done at a local clinic in makembako, but of course, they told me it was malaria. they always say malaria. So thus, i had to haul myself back into public transport for a more reliable opinion. Oh, and did I mention I was attacked by little biting ants the other day?! not fun. really.
So, it's been up and down, but I'll focus more on the ups. I was able to get something together for World AIDS day. It didnt' go quite as planned, but at least, it went. The nurses showed up . .. a good 4 hours late . .. (pretty good for Tanzanian time) and it rained, so the skits and songs that were planned just didnt' happen. I was able to speak a little on AIDS prevention but got a lot of blank looks and giggles. Luckily, I had the nurses there to reiterate what I said in better Swahili . . . We ended up testing 200 people, and of those, 18 were HIV positive. ( considered a low number for my region.) However, there are over 2000 people in my village and its subvillages together, and the demographic with the most rapidly growing rate of HIV transmission is young adults- which very few showed to be tested. For next time, I need to focus on how to get young people out to be tested. And children . .. I need to plan a separate day devoted to just testing children, as there are so many orphaned by this incurable disease.
Thanksgiving was great. Of course, I missed my family and friends back home as much as I missed my mom's homemade stuffing, but we made the most of it with what we could. Most of the volunteers in my region were invited by a former PCV who now works at a nearby orphanage, set way up in the rolling hills near the Udzungwa Mountains, among miles of green tea plantations. It's absolutely breath-takingly beautiful there, but the cabride to get there was . .. umm . . . adventurous, if you could call it that?! We had a puppy with us . .. that got a little carsick from the bumpy ride, and we had to have several stops due to the puppies' indigestions. . . as well as the fact that we could not find the place! As soon as we did, our cab blew out a tire . .. bad luck, but at least we had arrived! We all pitched in and cooked a dish or two ( I made potatoes, half of which spilled on the bumpy ride) and a lopsided chocolate mocha cake which made up for the lack of potatoes. We had a feast! No turkey, but we did have some pretty damn good ham . .. and potatoes, soup, cornbread, green bean casserole, etc. No pumpkin pie . .. but we managed apple and mango/pineapple! mmmm . .. yeah, we ate a lot. It was a nice break from rice or ugali. Barely being able to move after dinner, there was no loafing around and watching football, but instead, we took a torturous but beautiful hike up the mountains to wear the proprietors of the land (British ex-pat tea estate owners who also run an orphanage) have a lodge and beautiful gardens, including a tennis court and croquet lawn. what? in Africa? yes. Yeah, I have never played croquet before, but I can now say I first played in Tanzania . .. of all places. Sure it may all sound so "colonial" but honestly, these people are doing wonderful things, and it was kind of nice to have a little break from village life and sip wine, eat a big meal, and hit around a croquet mallet.
The next day we had a little party at a friends' village, and it was great to have a mix of Americans and Tanzanians eating and drinking together . .. which somehow ensued into a freestyle rap throw-down between one of the PCVs and a local teacher. absolutely hilarious. I'll let you all know when the album comes out, because apparently, there are plans in the works :)
I thank you all for your support, letters, and messages you've been sending. It keeps me floating, head above water, everyday. I miss you all, but I can't wait to share more stories and pictures with you when I return. I am thankful for all of you. Happy Belated Thanksgiving, and Happy Holidays!
love,
cristina
Lots of goings-on, for village life, that is. I have been busy trying to finish Peace Corps now mandatory VSA (village survey assessment, or something like that) which entailed going from house to house interviewing people and their needs, problems, etc. I have been planning to have testing and information for World AIDS day, organizing songs and skits with my orphan girls' group "kikundi cha kipepeo" and my PLWHA group, and trying to get plans together for holiday trips. Along with all of that, the power has been off and on in the towns that have it, due to storms and such (yes, it does rain in Africa . .. especially during the months of December-April) and internet has been on sporadically, which makes writing and sending my VSA report very trying. I have been completely devoid of energy . . . and have had many unmentionable trips to the bathroom . .. so now i'm in town, just back from the visit to the regional hospital, with the final verdict. amoebas. now i'm just waiting for response from my Peace Corps Medical officer to see what medication i should be taking for that. I feel fine now, but yesterday was another story . .. and with a 5 hour bus ride from where I was trying to write my report in Makembako, to the other side of the region in Iringa, with my head-throbbing from tanzanian music being blared on the Coaster, it was a fun trip into town . ..
I had testing done at a local clinic in makembako, but of course, they told me it was malaria. they always say malaria. So thus, i had to haul myself back into public transport for a more reliable opinion. Oh, and did I mention I was attacked by little biting ants the other day?! not fun. really.
So, it's been up and down, but I'll focus more on the ups. I was able to get something together for World AIDS day. It didnt' go quite as planned, but at least, it went. The nurses showed up . .. a good 4 hours late . .. (pretty good for Tanzanian time) and it rained, so the skits and songs that were planned just didnt' happen. I was able to speak a little on AIDS prevention but got a lot of blank looks and giggles. Luckily, I had the nurses there to reiterate what I said in better Swahili . . . We ended up testing 200 people, and of those, 18 were HIV positive. ( considered a low number for my region.) However, there are over 2000 people in my village and its subvillages together, and the demographic with the most rapidly growing rate of HIV transmission is young adults- which very few showed to be tested. For next time, I need to focus on how to get young people out to be tested. And children . .. I need to plan a separate day devoted to just testing children, as there are so many orphaned by this incurable disease.
Thanksgiving was great. Of course, I missed my family and friends back home as much as I missed my mom's homemade stuffing, but we made the most of it with what we could. Most of the volunteers in my region were invited by a former PCV who now works at a nearby orphanage, set way up in the rolling hills near the Udzungwa Mountains, among miles of green tea plantations. It's absolutely breath-takingly beautiful there, but the cabride to get there was . .. umm . . . adventurous, if you could call it that?! We had a puppy with us . .. that got a little carsick from the bumpy ride, and we had to have several stops due to the puppies' indigestions. . . as well as the fact that we could not find the place! As soon as we did, our cab blew out a tire . .. bad luck, but at least we had arrived! We all pitched in and cooked a dish or two ( I made potatoes, half of which spilled on the bumpy ride) and a lopsided chocolate mocha cake which made up for the lack of potatoes. We had a feast! No turkey, but we did have some pretty damn good ham . .. and potatoes, soup, cornbread, green bean casserole, etc. No pumpkin pie . .. but we managed apple and mango/pineapple! mmmm . .. yeah, we ate a lot. It was a nice break from rice or ugali. Barely being able to move after dinner, there was no loafing around and watching football, but instead, we took a torturous but beautiful hike up the mountains to wear the proprietors of the land (British ex-pat tea estate owners who also run an orphanage) have a lodge and beautiful gardens, including a tennis court and croquet lawn. what? in Africa? yes. Yeah, I have never played croquet before, but I can now say I first played in Tanzania . .. of all places. Sure it may all sound so "colonial" but honestly, these people are doing wonderful things, and it was kind of nice to have a little break from village life and sip wine, eat a big meal, and hit around a croquet mallet.
The next day we had a little party at a friends' village, and it was great to have a mix of Americans and Tanzanians eating and drinking together . .. which somehow ensued into a freestyle rap throw-down between one of the PCVs and a local teacher. absolutely hilarious. I'll let you all know when the album comes out, because apparently, there are plans in the works :)
I thank you all for your support, letters, and messages you've been sending. It keeps me floating, head above water, everyday. I miss you all, but I can't wait to share more stories and pictures with you when I return. I am thankful for all of you. Happy Belated Thanksgiving, and Happy Holidays!
love,
cristina
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Obama's Effect
Hongera Sana (congratulations) Obama! And a great effort to John McCain, who I believe is a good man who has been through a lot of hardships, and tried throughout his career to be somewhat bi-partisan, but the race for presidency turned him into something he is not. It became a black vs. white, republican vs. democrat, Christian vs. (Christian, but people think he's Muslim) event.
I got together in town with a few volunteers to watch the election results. We found a guesthouse that had great satellite t.v. and comfy couches . .. and warm showers! :) We were able to pick up BBC and CNN international services and watch the results, in and out of sleep, bleary-eyed from 8pm at night until 7am the next morning. We were all Obama fans, and jumped through many hoops to get our absentee ballots mailed to us and back to the states. You could only imagine our enthusiasm (even on a few hours of sleep) when he did indeed win!!! This was a pivotal election for everyone, but being in East Africa seemed to make it even more of a milestone event. Most people here know of Obama, and are all rooting for him because he still has family in Kenya. The BBC station had coverage from the small Kenyan village where Obama's grandmother still lives, and the whole village was celebrating his achievement . .. I could only imagine the pride in his distant village (which he did visit last year) . .. and how they were all saying they were so proud of "their son." Living in a small village myself, I can't imagine the pride they feel right now. They never dreamed of having a person of African descent to become the president of a country so highly respected, loved, or loathed by Africans. Many people here have the misconceptions that he is Muslim (but then again so do people in the U.S.) or that he is full African (not acknowledging his white, American mother.) But I use this as a learning tool- to teach people of Africa that Americans are all different. We are a nation of immigrants. And maybe I won't have as many people asking me why I'm not blonde, blue-eyed, or tall if I'm American? I explain to them that my parents are Italian, and that they emigrated to America, and they begin to understand. However, many people see pictures of volunteers or their family or friends who are African-American, and they ask, "If they are African, how did they get to America?" Which lead us to realize that the majority of people here don't know about the slave trade. Those who are able to be educated at the college level or higher secondary school know about slavery, but many do not. Some are more aware of the Arab slave trade off the island of Zanzibar, but it makes me feel responsible for telling them of the history of the Americas as well . . . and yet, at the same time i am afraid to say anything. Is it because i don't want them to know of the cruelties and hardships endured . . . or perhaps because I'm afraid they will look at me differently? As much as I believe in Obama as a person, and as a great representation of Americans today, i also hope that his influence upon the rest of the world will help people perceive Americans differently. Maybe we still have a long way to go, but I am proud to say that I come from a nation that is diverse in its people, all descendants of immigrants or indigenous tribes, where we have the freedom to think, feel, and act independently. We care about the rest of the world, because we are the rest of the world, and hopefully other countries will begin to see that as well. Change will not happen overnight, but I will be happy to come home to a country that I believe has hope. lots of it.
Again, thank you all for your support and interest. Go Obama!
I got together in town with a few volunteers to watch the election results. We found a guesthouse that had great satellite t.v. and comfy couches . .. and warm showers! :) We were able to pick up BBC and CNN international services and watch the results, in and out of sleep, bleary-eyed from 8pm at night until 7am the next morning. We were all Obama fans, and jumped through many hoops to get our absentee ballots mailed to us and back to the states. You could only imagine our enthusiasm (even on a few hours of sleep) when he did indeed win!!! This was a pivotal election for everyone, but being in East Africa seemed to make it even more of a milestone event. Most people here know of Obama, and are all rooting for him because he still has family in Kenya. The BBC station had coverage from the small Kenyan village where Obama's grandmother still lives, and the whole village was celebrating his achievement . .. I could only imagine the pride in his distant village (which he did visit last year) . .. and how they were all saying they were so proud of "their son." Living in a small village myself, I can't imagine the pride they feel right now. They never dreamed of having a person of African descent to become the president of a country so highly respected, loved, or loathed by Africans. Many people here have the misconceptions that he is Muslim (but then again so do people in the U.S.) or that he is full African (not acknowledging his white, American mother.) But I use this as a learning tool- to teach people of Africa that Americans are all different. We are a nation of immigrants. And maybe I won't have as many people asking me why I'm not blonde, blue-eyed, or tall if I'm American? I explain to them that my parents are Italian, and that they emigrated to America, and they begin to understand. However, many people see pictures of volunteers or their family or friends who are African-American, and they ask, "If they are African, how did they get to America?" Which lead us to realize that the majority of people here don't know about the slave trade. Those who are able to be educated at the college level or higher secondary school know about slavery, but many do not. Some are more aware of the Arab slave trade off the island of Zanzibar, but it makes me feel responsible for telling them of the history of the Americas as well . . . and yet, at the same time i am afraid to say anything. Is it because i don't want them to know of the cruelties and hardships endured . . . or perhaps because I'm afraid they will look at me differently? As much as I believe in Obama as a person, and as a great representation of Americans today, i also hope that his influence upon the rest of the world will help people perceive Americans differently. Maybe we still have a long way to go, but I am proud to say that I come from a nation that is diverse in its people, all descendants of immigrants or indigenous tribes, where we have the freedom to think, feel, and act independently. We care about the rest of the world, because we are the rest of the world, and hopefully other countries will begin to see that as well. Change will not happen overnight, but I will be happy to come home to a country that I believe has hope. lots of it.
Again, thank you all for your support and interest. Go Obama!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Mungu Akipenda
The title means, "if God wishes." It is a common phrase used here in Tanzania . . . you could say it is used almost too often. Tanzanians are very religious . .. in my small village alone there are many churches- Roman Catholic, Lutheran, Tanzanian Assembly of God, Evangelists Assembly of God, Seventh Day Adventists, The Church of Higher Divine Gospel?! Yes, they all exist here . .. there is a strong Muslim influence as well, but mostly in coastal regions and not found in my village. (though we still recognize Muslim holidays such as Idi) The problem with the phrase mungu akipenda, is that the people here put so much responsibility into the hands of God and God's will, that you wonder how much it starts to impede on their own independent responsibility. Even if you say, "I will meet you tomorrow at 3:00," they will say, Mungu Akipenda. Then . .. they do indeed show up the next day, but in Tanzanian time, two to three hours late ;)
It's funny, in the states i was known to be slow, patient, and infamously late to Everything! Here, I am considered a speed demon who doesn't like to be inefficient, I get impatient and hasty, and |I'm always early (compared to everyone else.) I'm also one of the few people that own a watch, so that could be another reason for my punctuality . .. but no one is ever in a hurry to get things done. It can be frustrating, when you are trying to get projects done, and people say, okay tomorrow. always tomorrow.
I am learning to adjust to the slow pace of village life . . . but am a little afraid of the reverse culture shock \i will experience upon return to the fast-paced, hectic and frenetic lifestyle of American life. The funny thing is that people refer to Americans as "ones who keep time" . .. time in village life, is just a matter of sun-up to sun-down . . . things happen when they happen.
I have started teaching English to primary school students. A class full of 90-some 5th grade level students crammed into tiny desks. Some share books because they don't have enough. Some can't see the board from where they sit, but they never ask me what i've written. i try to repeat things as much as possible and ask if they understand, and they all say yes because they are afraid to say no. \i ask if they have any questions and nobody raises a hand . .. though i'm sure there are questions out there. Corporal punishment is allowed in schools here, and the students are quiet, obedient, stay put, and dont' say much . .. but out of fear. they dont' understand the lessons in their books, they're far too advanced, but they pretend they do. i quizzed them in class with some true or false questions and they all answered "true" in unison to every question . .. i think you can see the problem in this. The students haven't had an english teacher for a few months as their teacher is away on pregnancy leave, so i'm just picking up where she left off . .. however, I learned quickly that i had to start from basic levels to even attempt to cover the lessons they are supposed to be completing. So, I've taught sentence construction, nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, objects of a prepasition, tenses, etc. I'm trying to remember this grammar myself, as it's been years since i studied this . . .
sure, they can say "goodmorning teacher" and "education ees inspiration" because they have memorized these things.. . they can memorize and spit back out anything you tell them . . . but they don't understand why. i say in english"goodmorning students" and they say "fine thankyou, madaam." . . . so I try to explain that i am not asking how their morning is, just saying goodmorning . .. and the next day . . . again, "fine, thank you madaam." I wrote on the board "prepositional phrases" and they all said together in unison "prepositional phrases". .. because they think that's what they're supposed to do, but they don't know what it means. I just laugh, but it's not funny . .. I hope I can help them actually comprehend what I'm teaching. . . not just chew it up and spit it back out. The truly difficult thing is that their entrance exams into Secondary School are all in English . .. so if they dont' grasp it within the next two years, they many not make it on to continue (if they can afford the school fees anyway.)
I have been continuing to help with baby-weighing, and plan to start a nutrition and health group for mothers and pregnant women starting in November. I am in the midst of planning a village-wide testing for World Aids Day on December 1st . .. just trying to cut through all the red tape of getting the Doctors, Nurses, and equipment from the local hospital to come to our village dispensary. I am keeping my fingers crossed that this event will indeed happen, as I think our village is in need of it. I do have a good number of people that come to our PLWHA meetings, but i have a feeling there are many more who are unaware of their infections, or feel the stigma of the disease preventing them from joining the group.
I have had the unfortunate experience of already losing one of my favorite members of the group. He was a widower, to a wife I believe died from the same disease, and now leaves four children orphaned. One of whom, is a fierce netball player. She is one of my favorite students, and I hope to be able to take her on my Kilimanjaro Climb for orphaned girls which i'm in the midst of planning for next year. It is discouraging and emotionally difficult to lose friends so quickly, though Peace Corps has warned us that it is a problem we will all encounter. You can't help but feel guitly as well that maybe you could have done something to help . .. like maybe if we would have been able to get treatments delivered to the dispensary, he would still be here, but you can't blame yourself for a problem that is so widespread- all you can do is help spread the information and knowledge to prevent the disease from spreading, and help those infected live a fuller, healthier life. The funeral was difficult to attend, but the whole village showed up and they were happy to see me attend. They knew i had respected the man who was always smiling and helpful, and seemed to be making the most of his life. The people here grieve differently . .. only his children were crying. no one else, not even his mother or sister. we sat around in dark rooms, on mats on the floor, staring at our feet a lot, not saying much. We were all silent until some of the Bibis (older women), old enough to still bare the dots and hashmarks of tribal ritual scarification on their cheeks and foreheads, began to wail. They still sat there looking somber, but they wailed in great mourning. It was a moving experience, but very sad and emotional for me. I was glad that the next day, I was able to meet up with a fellow volunteer and watch movies with some German volunteers who have electricity. Though I'm adjusting and beginning to really love my village and its people, sometimes, you need to just get away . .. and crawl back to the comforts of home such as chocolate bars, silly movies, or music from back home.
there were two funerals that week in my village, but there was also a wedding. I was hoping for a traditional, tribal wedding where we all dance around a fire at night, but unfortunately, no such national geographic-type experience was to be had. Instead, they had rented a generator so that the pastor could speak for hours on a microphone, the keyboardist could play the same repetitive casio-beat for five hours straight, and there was one lone electric bulb hanging. . . though it was unnecessary as everyone left before nightfall. The night before, i had been asked to help bake the cake, and i obliged. It was me and four other old women calling me the "cake teacher" and literally raising their hands to ask questions. The funny thing is, it was my first time baking a cake without a conventional oven, so i had no idea what to expect. luckily for my peace corps issue cookbook, i had a recipe for yellow cake and instructions on how to make an oven out of two pots, two lids, some rocks and charcoal . .. and bam! we had ourselves some cake! it was pretty good, too ;) they asked me to help decorate it . .. so i obliged again. they handed me some shiny gift wrap paper and said, "mapambo," decorate. So . . . i cut up some paper snowflakes in shapes of flowers and hearts and butterflies . .. and they sat and stared in complete awe. These women can weave rugs and baskets out of straw and banana leaves, yet they were amazed with my paper snowflakes. But i guess it's not a skill acquired in an area where most people dont' own a pair of scissors . .. and it doesn't snow for that matter, either. I was introduced to the whole congregation at the wedding as the Peace Corps "doctor" . . . and i froze in fright thinking, no, don't tell them i'm a doctor!!! they will start coming to me with all kinds of crazy ailments, expecting to be healed, but luckily no such thing has happened since. whew.
another funny thing about the wedding is that the maid of honor starting breastfeeding her baby in front of the whole church during the service . .. and no one thought anything of it. it didn't surprise me, either, as i've become accustomed to the tanzanian mantra that if you're baby is hungry- you feed it. no matter where you are or what you are doing. hey, it's free food that's nutritious for your baby and you don't have to grow it . .. you have to use the most of it.
Well, i should be getting on with project research instead of typing away at the blog . .. but again, i appreciate your interest in my work here and that you're reading my blog :)
. .. and Happy Halloween!!!
It's funny, in the states i was known to be slow, patient, and infamously late to Everything! Here, I am considered a speed demon who doesn't like to be inefficient, I get impatient and hasty, and |I'm always early (compared to everyone else.) I'm also one of the few people that own a watch, so that could be another reason for my punctuality . .. but no one is ever in a hurry to get things done. It can be frustrating, when you are trying to get projects done, and people say, okay tomorrow. always tomorrow.
I am learning to adjust to the slow pace of village life . . . but am a little afraid of the reverse culture shock \i will experience upon return to the fast-paced, hectic and frenetic lifestyle of American life. The funny thing is that people refer to Americans as "ones who keep time" . .. time in village life, is just a matter of sun-up to sun-down . . . things happen when they happen.
I have started teaching English to primary school students. A class full of 90-some 5th grade level students crammed into tiny desks. Some share books because they don't have enough. Some can't see the board from where they sit, but they never ask me what i've written. i try to repeat things as much as possible and ask if they understand, and they all say yes because they are afraid to say no. \i ask if they have any questions and nobody raises a hand . .. though i'm sure there are questions out there. Corporal punishment is allowed in schools here, and the students are quiet, obedient, stay put, and dont' say much . .. but out of fear. they dont' understand the lessons in their books, they're far too advanced, but they pretend they do. i quizzed them in class with some true or false questions and they all answered "true" in unison to every question . .. i think you can see the problem in this. The students haven't had an english teacher for a few months as their teacher is away on pregnancy leave, so i'm just picking up where she left off . .. however, I learned quickly that i had to start from basic levels to even attempt to cover the lessons they are supposed to be completing. So, I've taught sentence construction, nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, objects of a prepasition, tenses, etc. I'm trying to remember this grammar myself, as it's been years since i studied this . . .
sure, they can say "goodmorning teacher" and "education ees inspiration" because they have memorized these things.. . they can memorize and spit back out anything you tell them . . . but they don't understand why. i say in english"goodmorning students" and they say "fine thankyou, madaam." . . . so I try to explain that i am not asking how their morning is, just saying goodmorning . .. and the next day . . . again, "fine, thank you madaam." I wrote on the board "prepositional phrases" and they all said together in unison "prepositional phrases". .. because they think that's what they're supposed to do, but they don't know what it means. I just laugh, but it's not funny . .. I hope I can help them actually comprehend what I'm teaching. . . not just chew it up and spit it back out. The truly difficult thing is that their entrance exams into Secondary School are all in English . .. so if they dont' grasp it within the next two years, they many not make it on to continue (if they can afford the school fees anyway.)
I have been continuing to help with baby-weighing, and plan to start a nutrition and health group for mothers and pregnant women starting in November. I am in the midst of planning a village-wide testing for World Aids Day on December 1st . .. just trying to cut through all the red tape of getting the Doctors, Nurses, and equipment from the local hospital to come to our village dispensary. I am keeping my fingers crossed that this event will indeed happen, as I think our village is in need of it. I do have a good number of people that come to our PLWHA meetings, but i have a feeling there are many more who are unaware of their infections, or feel the stigma of the disease preventing them from joining the group.
I have had the unfortunate experience of already losing one of my favorite members of the group. He was a widower, to a wife I believe died from the same disease, and now leaves four children orphaned. One of whom, is a fierce netball player. She is one of my favorite students, and I hope to be able to take her on my Kilimanjaro Climb for orphaned girls which i'm in the midst of planning for next year. It is discouraging and emotionally difficult to lose friends so quickly, though Peace Corps has warned us that it is a problem we will all encounter. You can't help but feel guitly as well that maybe you could have done something to help . .. like maybe if we would have been able to get treatments delivered to the dispensary, he would still be here, but you can't blame yourself for a problem that is so widespread- all you can do is help spread the information and knowledge to prevent the disease from spreading, and help those infected live a fuller, healthier life. The funeral was difficult to attend, but the whole village showed up and they were happy to see me attend. They knew i had respected the man who was always smiling and helpful, and seemed to be making the most of his life. The people here grieve differently . .. only his children were crying. no one else, not even his mother or sister. we sat around in dark rooms, on mats on the floor, staring at our feet a lot, not saying much. We were all silent until some of the Bibis (older women), old enough to still bare the dots and hashmarks of tribal ritual scarification on their cheeks and foreheads, began to wail. They still sat there looking somber, but they wailed in great mourning. It was a moving experience, but very sad and emotional for me. I was glad that the next day, I was able to meet up with a fellow volunteer and watch movies with some German volunteers who have electricity. Though I'm adjusting and beginning to really love my village and its people, sometimes, you need to just get away . .. and crawl back to the comforts of home such as chocolate bars, silly movies, or music from back home.
there were two funerals that week in my village, but there was also a wedding. I was hoping for a traditional, tribal wedding where we all dance around a fire at night, but unfortunately, no such national geographic-type experience was to be had. Instead, they had rented a generator so that the pastor could speak for hours on a microphone, the keyboardist could play the same repetitive casio-beat for five hours straight, and there was one lone electric bulb hanging. . . though it was unnecessary as everyone left before nightfall. The night before, i had been asked to help bake the cake, and i obliged. It was me and four other old women calling me the "cake teacher" and literally raising their hands to ask questions. The funny thing is, it was my first time baking a cake without a conventional oven, so i had no idea what to expect. luckily for my peace corps issue cookbook, i had a recipe for yellow cake and instructions on how to make an oven out of two pots, two lids, some rocks and charcoal . .. and bam! we had ourselves some cake! it was pretty good, too ;) they asked me to help decorate it . .. so i obliged again. they handed me some shiny gift wrap paper and said, "mapambo," decorate. So . . . i cut up some paper snowflakes in shapes of flowers and hearts and butterflies . .. and they sat and stared in complete awe. These women can weave rugs and baskets out of straw and banana leaves, yet they were amazed with my paper snowflakes. But i guess it's not a skill acquired in an area where most people dont' own a pair of scissors . .. and it doesn't snow for that matter, either. I was introduced to the whole congregation at the wedding as the Peace Corps "doctor" . . . and i froze in fright thinking, no, don't tell them i'm a doctor!!! they will start coming to me with all kinds of crazy ailments, expecting to be healed, but luckily no such thing has happened since. whew.
another funny thing about the wedding is that the maid of honor starting breastfeeding her baby in front of the whole church during the service . .. and no one thought anything of it. it didn't surprise me, either, as i've become accustomed to the tanzanian mantra that if you're baby is hungry- you feed it. no matter where you are or what you are doing. hey, it's free food that's nutritious for your baby and you don't have to grow it . .. you have to use the most of it.
Well, i should be getting on with project research instead of typing away at the blog . .. but again, i appreciate your interest in my work here and that you're reading my blog :)
. .. and Happy Halloween!!!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
I don't know how to sum up the past few weeks in a blog entry, but I'll try . . .
I've written too much in my journal to post, so I will try to pick out a few highlights.
So, what have I been doing here with my time? Well, on a day to day basis, it changes, but I don't have a set 9 to 5 type job. I have been helping out with baby weighing and vaccinations at the local dispensary, holding meetings with the People Living with HIV/AIDS group to help start projects to defray the cost of transportation to town to receive treatment, and helping with excercise classes and playing netball with an HIV/AIDS group and with primary school children, drawing with kids, helping out with small things around the village, and I will hopefully begin teaching English and Health classes at the primary school as soon as the headteacher will give me the greenlight . . . but in Tanzania . .. everything gets post-poned for a while. This is not a good thing for someone with procrastination problems! However, I have been making a point to get out of my house every day and at least meet and talk to people about their lives, needs, or just "zungumza" or chit chat. Apparently, that's all you are supposed to do for the first three months.
I had to introduce myself to the entire village, over a microphone, as they gathered for a big village event welcoming visting teachers. They brought in a generator for the occasion. There was dancing and drumming by villagers, schoolchildren, and even the local witch doctor. They asked me to dance with them . .. I did, hesitantly and shyly, but then afterwards, people were congratulating me on my attempts :) They are very impressed by my trying to integrate into the culture .. . speaking the language, eating the food, wearing the local "kanga"s.
So, on a funny side note, I just want to talk about the clothes here. Secondhand clothes from the U.S. are sold here in the market for about thrift store prices. But the funny thing is that people will wear almost anything, regardless what it says in English. the beauty is, most people dont' find the humor in what's written on their chests or backs, but us English-speakers do :) I've seen little boys on bikes with Dead Kennedy's and Ramones t-shirts, an old man with a mickey mouse t-shirt, a man wearing a t-shirt quoting " Jennifer Benninger for Council" , Resurrection Basketball, etc.
I wonder if Jennifer Benninger knows there is someone still rallying for her . .. years after her election . .. halfway across the globe. And if Lauren, embroidered on the Resurrection Basketball pullover jacket, knows that my neighbor is now wearing her old basketball warm-ups.
What else . .. hmm . .. I have been meeting many other volunteers, from other organizations and other countries in my travels. I've befriended two courageous Italian women running an orphanage and dispensary in a nearby town, and two gargantually tall and very blonde german male volunteers teaching and assisting with solar power in a nearby village. I have met many people from the U.S. and Europe with various organizations and church missions. The best thing is trying to find a common language with the other foreignors you meet . .. sometimes its English, or Kiswahili (what you all know of it) or, as with the Italians, a crazy mix of both Italian and Swahili!
well, before I sign off I would like to copy my e-mail about the library project if I have not e-mailed it to you.
I am starting my first (informal) project- to start a small library. It is early yet, but I thought I better get the word out. Your donations would make a great Christmas present to me, and the village of Itimbo! :)If you have any used books (of any kind- children's books, instructional books, etc.) and any magazines you have already read (which I will probably read first for entertainment and to bone up on all the news I'm missing ;) I would greatly appreciate your donations. (Of course, monetary donations to purchase books in Swahili and supplemental items would be great, but I have not yet figured out the logistics of payment . .. I may set up a pay-pal account or Western Union later.)So, for now, if you are weeding through any old books and mags and don't know what to do with them, please send them my way!
The cheapest way to ship light things such as magazines would be in a padded envelope. Also, I have to pay a customs fee for each package that comes through, so if you are planning on donating books, it would be best to donate one package as a group and split the cost of shipping, rather than shipping a bunch of smaller packages. The less packages to clear the better, but I appreciate all donations! Also, as a tip, post-office workers and customs workers here are not the most trust-worthy, but they don't like to tamper with religious taboo. That being said, it helps to emblazon your packages with religious symbols such as crosses, stars of david, "Jesus loves You!" etc. Be creative! :)
The shipping address is:
Cristina LalliU.S. Peace CorpsP.O. Box 1505
Iringa, TanzaniaEast Africa
Thank you in advance for your help!
-Cristina
I've written too much in my journal to post, so I will try to pick out a few highlights.
So, what have I been doing here with my time? Well, on a day to day basis, it changes, but I don't have a set 9 to 5 type job. I have been helping out with baby weighing and vaccinations at the local dispensary, holding meetings with the People Living with HIV/AIDS group to help start projects to defray the cost of transportation to town to receive treatment, and helping with excercise classes and playing netball with an HIV/AIDS group and with primary school children, drawing with kids, helping out with small things around the village, and I will hopefully begin teaching English and Health classes at the primary school as soon as the headteacher will give me the greenlight . . . but in Tanzania . .. everything gets post-poned for a while. This is not a good thing for someone with procrastination problems! However, I have been making a point to get out of my house every day and at least meet and talk to people about their lives, needs, or just "zungumza" or chit chat. Apparently, that's all you are supposed to do for the first three months.
I had to introduce myself to the entire village, over a microphone, as they gathered for a big village event welcoming visting teachers. They brought in a generator for the occasion. There was dancing and drumming by villagers, schoolchildren, and even the local witch doctor. They asked me to dance with them . .. I did, hesitantly and shyly, but then afterwards, people were congratulating me on my attempts :) They are very impressed by my trying to integrate into the culture .. . speaking the language, eating the food, wearing the local "kanga"s.
So, on a funny side note, I just want to talk about the clothes here. Secondhand clothes from the U.S. are sold here in the market for about thrift store prices. But the funny thing is that people will wear almost anything, regardless what it says in English. the beauty is, most people dont' find the humor in what's written on their chests or backs, but us English-speakers do :) I've seen little boys on bikes with Dead Kennedy's and Ramones t-shirts, an old man with a mickey mouse t-shirt, a man wearing a t-shirt quoting " Jennifer Benninger for Council" , Resurrection Basketball, etc.
I wonder if Jennifer Benninger knows there is someone still rallying for her . .. years after her election . .. halfway across the globe. And if Lauren, embroidered on the Resurrection Basketball pullover jacket, knows that my neighbor is now wearing her old basketball warm-ups.
What else . .. hmm . .. I have been meeting many other volunteers, from other organizations and other countries in my travels. I've befriended two courageous Italian women running an orphanage and dispensary in a nearby town, and two gargantually tall and very blonde german male volunteers teaching and assisting with solar power in a nearby village. I have met many people from the U.S. and Europe with various organizations and church missions. The best thing is trying to find a common language with the other foreignors you meet . .. sometimes its English, or Kiswahili (what you all know of it) or, as with the Italians, a crazy mix of both Italian and Swahili!
well, before I sign off I would like to copy my e-mail about the library project if I have not e-mailed it to you.
I am starting my first (informal) project- to start a small library. It is early yet, but I thought I better get the word out. Your donations would make a great Christmas present to me, and the village of Itimbo! :)If you have any used books (of any kind- children's books, instructional books, etc.) and any magazines you have already read (which I will probably read first for entertainment and to bone up on all the news I'm missing ;) I would greatly appreciate your donations. (Of course, monetary donations to purchase books in Swahili and supplemental items would be great, but I have not yet figured out the logistics of payment . .. I may set up a pay-pal account or Western Union later.)So, for now, if you are weeding through any old books and mags and don't know what to do with them, please send them my way!
The cheapest way to ship light things such as magazines would be in a padded envelope. Also, I have to pay a customs fee for each package that comes through, so if you are planning on donating books, it would be best to donate one package as a group and split the cost of shipping, rather than shipping a bunch of smaller packages. The less packages to clear the better, but I appreciate all donations! Also, as a tip, post-office workers and customs workers here are not the most trust-worthy, but they don't like to tamper with religious taboo. That being said, it helps to emblazon your packages with religious symbols such as crosses, stars of david, "Jesus loves You!" etc. Be creative! :)
The shipping address is:
Cristina LalliU.S. Peace CorpsP.O. Box 1505
Iringa, TanzaniaEast Africa
Thank you in advance for your help!
-Cristina
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Here is another excerpt from my journal:
I'm on the upswing, moodwise. It may be because I painted my house with a cheery aqua and white theme, emblazoned with white flowers. I'm trying to make it as cute as possible . .. or as less like a garage-looking thing as possible. I've had more furniture made by the local fundi. yeah, custom furniture, in Africa . .. though it didn't really come out the way I drew it, it is still pretty safi. I've been riding my bike. I cooked my first meal all by myself on a charcoal stove- noodles with cashew sauce, and it turned out edible. I've reserved to reading in bed every night, and listening to a song or two on the ipod. I talk to my neighbors- they are all wonderful. I wash my clothes and dishes by hand. I've taken to drying eucalyuptus in my house to make it smell more pleasant and look more invviting. I've gathered a bouquet of eucalyptues, pine, wheat clippings, and pink blosssoms. I save my orange peels in a jam jar to make potporri. no kidding. I'm a regular volunteer Martha Stewart here . .. saving burnt matches, bottle caps, beer labels, sticks and banana leaves, matchboxes . . all in the name of recycled crafts. Mostly because, I don't know what to do with all my trash. I dont' want to burn it all, or just throw it in a pit as most peple do here. There is no trash pick-up or waste management in most of Tanzania . .. so you are forced to be resourceful . .. or creative.
The kids just ransacked me. They came over asking for drinking water . . . why, I don't know. I asked if they don't know how to boil water? Because that's what I do. And seriiously, kids here do everything. By the age of four, they can practically boil water, by the age of six, practically cook yourown meals, and by the age of 12, run your own chai and maandazi service.
They asked for pipi (candy), they always do. The previous PCV apologized in advance for this, as she gave them candy once, and they knocked on her door (an now my door) ever since. I dont' have any candy, so therfore, I haven't had to lie about not having any. I'm a terrible liar- even kids can pick up the truth, I'm that bad. They aked if I had markers. I did, however have crayons and an extra notebook. Thoutht it might be cute to decorate my desolate house with some child-like portraits and landscapes. They crowded around one piece of paper- all six of them, and happily drew flowers and squiggles all over the page.
Then, one by one, they said they would return later, taking off with a crayon and blank sheet each. They duped me.
Though, a few kids came back, returning the crayons. . . and a few drawings, but some are still hoarding the treasures. I can't really be mad at them, though, if they have one crayon each, as they don't have them at home. I brought the crayons for them, anyways.
The kids here are a breed apart. They have a manual labor hour at the primary school when kids crochet pencil cases, cart buckets of water on their heads for the chool, the teachers, and me. They cut down large branches of pine an sell them to builders to help pay for the fees of their national exams.
They helped me carry my luggage when I first arrived and helped me carry a bed and 4 chairs the other day from the local caprenter. If I were in the states, kids would be saying"who does
this lady think she is . . . waltzing into our town with her teva sandals and headlamp, expecting us to cart her sh*t around . .." but these kids didn't complain. In fact, they seemed happy to help. and of course, for nothing in return. This is village life. They play with used bicycle tires and sticks. I saw a scooter the other day made entirely out of wood . .. even the wheels. A dump truck made of wood and an od plastic jug.
The kids are amazing. the kids are sometimes like indentured servants. especially those whose parents died young (most likely of HIV-AIDS) and were orphaned early- taken in by aunts or uncles who treat them sometimes as their own, but usually like a servant. Many people here have asked me if I will employ a "housegirl" to help with cooking, washing, etc. They can't understand how I can possibly do this work myself because they have heard that in America, there are machines that do it for you . .. true, but still, they are amazed that I am not completely incompetent.
They are surprised when they see me riding my bike around "for exercise" . .. they sometimes laugh at this concept, or are very impressed. People here don't use their bicycles so much for exercise, but as a mode of transportation. sometimes biking the 20k up treacherous hill into town, coming back with huge loads tied to the back.
But, the kids again. The sit in the dark, cooking rooms, outside the courtyard, around wood-burning or charcoal-burning fires. cooking ugali or rice- never afraid of the heat like I am. The women here pick up pots off the flaming coals without oven mits, towels, potholders, but sometimes with newspaper, or usually, with their bare hands. I can't fathom how they do it.
But then again . .. I can't imagine a lot of the work they do here.
I'm on the upswing, moodwise. It may be because I painted my house with a cheery aqua and white theme, emblazoned with white flowers. I'm trying to make it as cute as possible . .. or as less like a garage-looking thing as possible. I've had more furniture made by the local fundi. yeah, custom furniture, in Africa . .. though it didn't really come out the way I drew it, it is still pretty safi. I've been riding my bike. I cooked my first meal all by myself on a charcoal stove- noodles with cashew sauce, and it turned out edible. I've reserved to reading in bed every night, and listening to a song or two on the ipod. I talk to my neighbors- they are all wonderful. I wash my clothes and dishes by hand. I've taken to drying eucalyuptus in my house to make it smell more pleasant and look more invviting. I've gathered a bouquet of eucalyptues, pine, wheat clippings, and pink blosssoms. I save my orange peels in a jam jar to make potporri. no kidding. I'm a regular volunteer Martha Stewart here . .. saving burnt matches, bottle caps, beer labels, sticks and banana leaves, matchboxes . . all in the name of recycled crafts. Mostly because, I don't know what to do with all my trash. I dont' want to burn it all, or just throw it in a pit as most peple do here. There is no trash pick-up or waste management in most of Tanzania . .. so you are forced to be resourceful . .. or creative.
The kids just ransacked me. They came over asking for drinking water . . . why, I don't know. I asked if they don't know how to boil water? Because that's what I do. And seriiously, kids here do everything. By the age of four, they can practically boil water, by the age of six, practically cook yourown meals, and by the age of 12, run your own chai and maandazi service.
They asked for pipi (candy), they always do. The previous PCV apologized in advance for this, as she gave them candy once, and they knocked on her door (an now my door) ever since. I dont' have any candy, so therfore, I haven't had to lie about not having any. I'm a terrible liar- even kids can pick up the truth, I'm that bad. They aked if I had markers. I did, however have crayons and an extra notebook. Thoutht it might be cute to decorate my desolate house with some child-like portraits and landscapes. They crowded around one piece of paper- all six of them, and happily drew flowers and squiggles all over the page.
Then, one by one, they said they would return later, taking off with a crayon and blank sheet each. They duped me.
Though, a few kids came back, returning the crayons. . . and a few drawings, but some are still hoarding the treasures. I can't really be mad at them, though, if they have one crayon each, as they don't have them at home. I brought the crayons for them, anyways.
The kids here are a breed apart. They have a manual labor hour at the primary school when kids crochet pencil cases, cart buckets of water on their heads for the chool, the teachers, and me. They cut down large branches of pine an sell them to builders to help pay for the fees of their national exams.
They helped me carry my luggage when I first arrived and helped me carry a bed and 4 chairs the other day from the local caprenter. If I were in the states, kids would be saying"who does
this lady think she is . . . waltzing into our town with her teva sandals and headlamp, expecting us to cart her sh*t around . .." but these kids didn't complain. In fact, they seemed happy to help. and of course, for nothing in return. This is village life. They play with used bicycle tires and sticks. I saw a scooter the other day made entirely out of wood . .. even the wheels. A dump truck made of wood and an od plastic jug.
The kids are amazing. the kids are sometimes like indentured servants. especially those whose parents died young (most likely of HIV-AIDS) and were orphaned early- taken in by aunts or uncles who treat them sometimes as their own, but usually like a servant. Many people here have asked me if I will employ a "housegirl" to help with cooking, washing, etc. They can't understand how I can possibly do this work myself because they have heard that in America, there are machines that do it for you . .. true, but still, they are amazed that I am not completely incompetent.
They are surprised when they see me riding my bike around "for exercise" . .. they sometimes laugh at this concept, or are very impressed. People here don't use their bicycles so much for exercise, but as a mode of transportation. sometimes biking the 20k up treacherous hill into town, coming back with huge loads tied to the back.
But, the kids again. The sit in the dark, cooking rooms, outside the courtyard, around wood-burning or charcoal-burning fires. cooking ugali or rice- never afraid of the heat like I am. The women here pick up pots off the flaming coals without oven mits, towels, potholders, but sometimes with newspaper, or usually, with their bare hands. I can't fathom how they do it.
But then again . .. I can't imagine a lot of the work they do here.
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