Baracka means Blessed

So the past few days we’ve been staying with different families in the outer ‘burbs of Moshi or maybe urban villages is the most appropriate term. I’ve been staying with a family that is mostly all women- the baba or father died so there is now Mama Shyo and her daughters Jessica, Sophie and Teresia. Then there are Mama Shyo’s two nieces and one nephew. Teresia and the two nieces work during the day to try and pay for their tuition so they can go back to school (it’s 70,000 shillings per year or 70 USD which is very expensive here). They are all around 16 or so. It was a bit difficult to hear this because that is so inexpensive compared to the US, and Teresia seems like she definitely loves reading. Most of the family shares a mattress with someone else, since there’s only two bedrooms but about eight people. I feel a little guilty about this since as a guest I have my own mattress. The other day I gave them a calendar of NYC which they seem to enjoy.

Today in Swahili class with Mama Semiono we learned that Baracka is a common Swahili name for boys in Tanzania and Kenya, and means “blessed”. There is actually a little boy who lives next door named Baracka. There are also barber shops here named after Obama and kongas (the skirts and dresses women wear) with Barack's face on them. Some of the kongas are so beautiful- you buy the batik fabric and then they tailor it into what you want. They cost about 5-10 USD--which is a bargain compared to 200 USD for the same material at Anthropologie or Zachary's Smile. Yesterday in the evening local people were watching the inauguration of Obama on Al-Jazeera network in restaurants or at home…however in the village I am staying in, Soweto, the power was not working. Surprise, surprise. The power or “umeme” usually poops out every other day. So everyday is kind of like a surprise party. I am a little bummed to have missed it, especially since my friend got to watch Anderson Cooper (love him!) but I’m sure it’ll be on YouTube. So yes, while Barack was being inaugurated my host family and I were cooking dinner the “traditional” way. Most people cook on propane stoves (we only do this in our house when the power goes out and we can’t use the little electric one). To save on propane while it’s still light out they use the traditional tin container and fill it with charcoal (you can also use firewood) then put stones on top so the pot doesn’t get too hot. They also taught me how to shave the coconut: you sit on a little wood seat very low to the ground with a blade on the end of it and turn half of the coconut and scrap out the innards so to speak. In general, as a guest, people try and feed you as much as possible until you eat so much you feel like you’ll throw up and then they believe that you are “nimeshida” or full. Last night we had traditional ugali which is maize or corn flour mixed with water (they also call it stiff porridge). I heard some horror stories but it actually wasn’t bad. You eat it with your hands usually with meat or vegetables. A few nights earlier I had green banana soup. Not good. It’s this green meat broth with stiff bananas in it that taste like really dry potatoes. It was served with pilau, which was good, but there was some intestine in it which resembled spinal cord. Awesome.

Nikki, one of the female nurses in our Visions house, is staying with Baba Ngowi who is the Tanzanian Visions contact. He is very social and seems to know everyone. One night this week he served her chicken (kuku in Swahili) soup. Let me tell you, when they say chicken they mean chicken. They put the whole chicken in the pot- the feet, the head, everything- so when you look inside who have your choice of lungs, kidney, liver, legs, what have you.

Back at our house, our dog Luna ate the neighbor’s kuku…this was last weekend. We came home to find a pile of white feathers and a chicken leg. Luna not so surprisingly had feathers in her paws. The neighbors next to us have about 15 chickens which they keep to sell the eggs. This is not so awesome when you are trying to rest. I’m sure in a few months I’ll be more used to it, but sometimes I want to wring those chickens scrawny little necks. We have five in our yard that a woman named Maggie keeps. They live in a little wood hut, which I personally like to think of as a chicken apartment. At night we also have a guard that comes and stays until 6am.

Ok, time to wrap this up as this is a pretty long post. I’m hoping to post pictures of the waterfall in Uru village from last weekend and a few of my house and the family I’ve been staying with…but Tanzanian computers are incredibly slow. This weekend we are going to Arusha, and a little worried about the 1.5 hour bus ride there. The buses are somethin’ else. I thought Mexico was crazy the way people ride in trucks but the local buses, which cost 300 shillings or 30 US cents no matter where you go, are pretty insane.

Hope everyone is well. Siku njema! (Have a good day…)