I have a tough decision to make in the next few days. Unfortunately things at work have gotten really difficult and I’m considering leaving my job (but definitely staying with Visions and staying in Tanzania). But on the up side I’ve recovered from malaria! Woo! Anyways, to make a long story short, I have had problems with the other volunteers I’ve been working with and it’s come to a point where it’s forcing me to make a difficult decision. While I really do love the kids I’m working with and care for them deeply, I cannot work with people who make my life miserable. Really, life is too short, particularly when you are working for free in a foreign country (in Africa no less), half way around the world, where there are enough challenges present without bitchy, cruel co-workers. For some reason, since I arrived at Amani, these three volunteers have had it out for me and done a great job at making it clear that I intruded on their territory. Everything escalated today when the most awful volunteer returned from vacation and proceeded with her supreme bitchiness, which eventually resulted in many meetings with my boss. Why there are people in this world who make everyday life so much harder than it already is for no reason, particularly in a profession where you are trying to help people, I really don’t know. I’ve had other reservations about them besides their meanness in the past few weeks, like the fact that they segregate themselves from Tanzanian culture (and Tanzanian people) in their own elitist white bubble. While this is a more personal problem, it’s difficult to see people literally come so far, travel around the world, and move no where in terms of their interactions with others. I guess I just really don’t fit into their clique.
On the bright side, the Tanzanian staff has been great and the kids are wonderful, although not without challenges. If I didn’t have to work with the other volunteers, things would be much better. Without going into it too much because I’m so exhausted already, these other volunteers have gone out of their way to criticize me and make things difficult for no reason because they are bitter that they were not informed earlier I was coming. The worst one is this incredibly rude American girl who just got back from vacation and it just so happens I have to work the closest with her. This is the part where I remind myself that I came here, so far away from everything I know, to challenge myself in positive ways and improve the lives of those less fortunate. However, that being said, I am volunteering, and unlike the gritty world of paying jobs, I have a choice here. The choice includes whether or not I choose to surround myself with people (who are all westerners, by the way), whose personalities make it nearly impossible to feel good about myself and make the work I’m doing that much harder. The thing that frustrates me so much about this situation, is that there are so many real problems in the world, and the volunteers at Amani have created this problem out of their own bitterness. Not to mention, I am doing my job and doing it well. I love the kids, but I also love myself, and work shouldn’t be this awful. So I’m either going to leave or give an ultimatum involving refusing to work with said, supreme bitch.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Malaria.
That's right. I have malaria. Oh joyous day. My housemate Tim had it about two weeks ago so I was able to recognize the symptoms and left work early yesterday after I had been throwing up and having intestinal problems. Lovely. The blood test took about thirty minutes and came back positive. Yesterday was pretty miserable since I had a bad fever and it's already so hot in this freaking country but I'm feeling a little bit better today- just really tired. I have aches and pains in my abdomen and feel flu-ish. It's kind of scary to realize I have it because it could be mistaken for some kind of bacterial virus or God knows what. Anyways...I'm hoping to goes away soon. I'm wondering when I got bit. It's amazing how one small nasty little bug can make you so sick. I was in a rural village last week with my housemates walking along a waterfall (where 30 Tanzanian kids followed us like the lost boys in Peter Pan). So maybe it was there. Or maybe it was when I was in that village in Arusha. Bleh. Who knows? Anyways life could be worse. I've just been lying in bed watching movies or passed out and sweating. Awesome. I was hoping to write about some funny Tanzanian quirks since my last post was more serious but oh well! I think I'm going to go to Pengane next month- a small island off the coast where there are pretty beaches and maldive forests- with my housemate Marilyn, and after this a tropical beach is sounding pretty fabulous.
Hope all is well.
xo
Hope all is well.
xo
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Arusha Street Children
It’s hard for me to communicate what a great experience it was to meet the children living on the street in Arusha. I left on Thursday afternoon around 2pm to travel by bus from Moshi by myself, which I was not too happy about considering there was another fatal accident on that death trap of a road. Especially because of my experience in Arusha the last time, I was a little negative about the whole hangin’ out on the street thing, but it turned out to be a great opportunity.
I am really coming to appreciate the time I spend with the kids at Amani and the kids themselves. That being said, there are definitely bad days and good ones with the kids in general.
Once I got to Arusha, Asa, the Visions program coordinator for Arusha, met me at the Visions house. Asa is a social worker and Swedish and decided to come with me to meet the kids. We met the field social worker for Amani who I will call X, around 4:30 or so at the main bus stand in the center of the city. X used to be a smuggler who would take sugar across the borders from Malawi and Zambia to TZ, which is mostly why I’m giving him a letter instead of a name (and my blog is public). He is a really amazing man who knows all of the street kids in Moshi and Arusha. At the bus stand he introduced us to Happiness, who is Maasai and has siblings living at Amani. The four of us got on a dala dala to a small village Duruma to go meet her prinicipal to pay her school fees that her family cannot afford. Happi has to attend boarding school because her village is close to 2 hours away and Maasai girls are expected to work very hard cooking and cleaning around the house, which would make it harder for her to study.
Even though Happi told X Duruma was close it took at least an hour by dala dala to get there, mostly on bumpy dirt roads in a remote rural area. The village is Maasai, but the villagers wear modern clothes. It was the first village I’ve visited where houses were built out of mud. There were only dirt roads and a whole lot of cows and goats being herded around like rush hour traffic. Once we walked a ways we reached the school and the principal’s house surrounded by loads of dust and mango trees. The principal wasn’t truthful at first about tuition fees, most likely because white people (me and Asa) had come along, and he had definitely been drinking. Eventually things worked out and the four of us walked back to the main part of the village as dusk turned to dark. The sunset was a beautiful pink orange that night. It was hard to see but ever so often a bike or a goat would come whizzing by. Looking up, there was an incredible amount of stars.
Once we got to the village center, there were only 2 lights lit by electricity in a few small shops…most of the light came from 5 lanterns spread out between women selling fruits and vegetables and roasting corn along the road. It was a pretty wonderful feeling to be in such a small more traditional African village where electricity and plumbing didn’t really exist. The problem was, there weren’t any buses going back towards the city. Eventually after Asa and I tried to find a toilet (a tree) and bought some bananas for everyone and roasted corn for her, X found a dala dala willing to go at least part of the way. There were two big mamas on the dala dala with their babies wrapped tight to their chests and one little girl who was scared of me and Asa. I don’t know what is up with the babies here, but they can truly sleep through anything, even a dala ride that feels like the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland.
Fast-forward 20 minutes or so later and we are being let off the dala in the middle of a dirt road, in the bush, in the dark. A car that looked like a taxi turned and drove away from us along with the dala behind it. X ended up eventually flagging down a pick-up truck ten minutes or so later, (thank you God), and our group of 4 hopped in the back while the big mamas and the babies got in front. I’ve ridden in pick-up trucks before, but this little truck was flying along the rocky, dirt roads like nothing I’ve experienced before for more than half an hour. Asa and I woke up the next day and we were still feeling the bumps on our backs. The beautiful view of the stars helped wipe away my thoughts of impending death at least part of the way. Once we got into town people were pointing at Asa and I saying “Crazy mzungu!” in swahili.
In town we were looking for a dala dala to take Happi to her Maasai village but ended up taking a taxi to Kisongo (the village). There was no electricity so we could only see the mud huts by moonlight.
When we finally met the kids we first went to the main bus stand area where buses come from different African cities (mostly Tanzanian). X showed us where the kids were sleeping first...there were two boys who looked around 8 years old sleeping in front a storefront on concrete with no shoes and definitely no blanket. The kids often sleep in groups to protect each other and avoid rape which is disturbingly frequent. Another boy who had hurt his arm in a fight was sleeping in what looked like a city pig pen and smelled like human waste between two stores surrounded by trash. In the parking lot of the bus stand there were kids who looked around 9 years old sleeping in a group of three huddled together on top of garbage who remarkably were sharing a blanket. A boy nearby who seemed smaller but around the same age was sleeping a empty plastic straw bag people use to carry rice and things to market. This last boy had actually been at Amani and run away. Alot of the children have difficult times dealing with structure after living in the street. Not to mention, the survival skills the kids have had to learn are not valued in the real world...instead it's the skills they don't have- reading, writing, trusting and obeying adults in school that they don't have and makes it more difficult to try and reenter society. After this we walked just outside the bus area (which is all open to whatever weather happens upon the area) and met a group of about 8 kids who were awake. Although they did ask us for money/food at the end, mostly the kids just wanted our attention. It was really very touching and heartbreaking at the same time. A few of them were definitely on drugs or drunk but honestly, when you have nothing and drugs help to aid your pain and lessen your hunger and you have no access to education or anything else, it's understandable. The kids were all asking us our name and where we were from and I played this foot game/dance with them. A few of the kids wanted me to watch while they did cartwheels and X usually plays card games with them to bond. 2 of the kids decided to come to Amani the next day but most of that group has come back and forth to Amani dropping out consistently...which I think has a lot to do having never been integrated into a structured society. Most of the kids we meet are 3 years or so older than they look having never been fed properly- the impact of a lifetime of poor nutrition is incredibly affective at stunting growth, as I've noticed from the kids at Amani as well. One of the boys Tangan said he was 19 but looked 14. Most of the street kids we met that night are also Maasai and sent to cities to earn money as it is more and more difficult for tribes to survive. However a lot of the kids also just come from abusive households or their parents have died or were alcoholics etc etc.
After this X took Asa and I in taxi to the street where most of the prositutes are, most of whom look like they are all in their teens and had a late night dinner at X's hotel.
This was definitely one of the best experiences I’ve had here so far and something I will remember forever. I feel really thankful to be able to experience such different cultures and the different social strata of Tanzania. It’s difficult to explain, but there’s something really freeing about being able to connect with people of all levels of society, particularly those whose lives have been so unimaginably hard, and share a common connection however simple it may be. That being said, it’s been extremely difficult to think about the kids that I met and that their situation exists throughout the world. It makes it all the more strange to look at news headlines and see how isolated they are to specific countries or think about the celebrity gossip news I read all the time while people are suffering so much. But I think everything has to be managed in moderation…if I get consumed by thoughts of suffering then I’m not helping anyone, and everyone needs an outlet for relaxation and fun and stupidity without feeling guilty and punishing themselves. I’d really love to go back and visit the street kids and bring them some food in a few weeks. We shall see…
…And now…if you are still reading this lengthy post: thanks and congrats you made it to the end!
Love,
W
I am really coming to appreciate the time I spend with the kids at Amani and the kids themselves. That being said, there are definitely bad days and good ones with the kids in general.
Once I got to Arusha, Asa, the Visions program coordinator for Arusha, met me at the Visions house. Asa is a social worker and Swedish and decided to come with me to meet the kids. We met the field social worker for Amani who I will call X, around 4:30 or so at the main bus stand in the center of the city. X used to be a smuggler who would take sugar across the borders from Malawi and Zambia to TZ, which is mostly why I’m giving him a letter instead of a name (and my blog is public). He is a really amazing man who knows all of the street kids in Moshi and Arusha. At the bus stand he introduced us to Happiness, who is Maasai and has siblings living at Amani. The four of us got on a dala dala to a small village Duruma to go meet her prinicipal to pay her school fees that her family cannot afford. Happi has to attend boarding school because her village is close to 2 hours away and Maasai girls are expected to work very hard cooking and cleaning around the house, which would make it harder for her to study.
Even though Happi told X Duruma was close it took at least an hour by dala dala to get there, mostly on bumpy dirt roads in a remote rural area. The village is Maasai, but the villagers wear modern clothes. It was the first village I’ve visited where houses were built out of mud. There were only dirt roads and a whole lot of cows and goats being herded around like rush hour traffic. Once we walked a ways we reached the school and the principal’s house surrounded by loads of dust and mango trees. The principal wasn’t truthful at first about tuition fees, most likely because white people (me and Asa) had come along, and he had definitely been drinking. Eventually things worked out and the four of us walked back to the main part of the village as dusk turned to dark. The sunset was a beautiful pink orange that night. It was hard to see but ever so often a bike or a goat would come whizzing by. Looking up, there was an incredible amount of stars.
Once we got to the village center, there were only 2 lights lit by electricity in a few small shops…most of the light came from 5 lanterns spread out between women selling fruits and vegetables and roasting corn along the road. It was a pretty wonderful feeling to be in such a small more traditional African village where electricity and plumbing didn’t really exist. The problem was, there weren’t any buses going back towards the city. Eventually after Asa and I tried to find a toilet (a tree) and bought some bananas for everyone and roasted corn for her, X found a dala dala willing to go at least part of the way. There were two big mamas on the dala dala with their babies wrapped tight to their chests and one little girl who was scared of me and Asa. I don’t know what is up with the babies here, but they can truly sleep through anything, even a dala ride that feels like the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland.
Fast-forward 20 minutes or so later and we are being let off the dala in the middle of a dirt road, in the bush, in the dark. A car that looked like a taxi turned and drove away from us along with the dala behind it. X ended up eventually flagging down a pick-up truck ten minutes or so later, (thank you God), and our group of 4 hopped in the back while the big mamas and the babies got in front. I’ve ridden in pick-up trucks before, but this little truck was flying along the rocky, dirt roads like nothing I’ve experienced before for more than half an hour. Asa and I woke up the next day and we were still feeling the bumps on our backs. The beautiful view of the stars helped wipe away my thoughts of impending death at least part of the way. Once we got into town people were pointing at Asa and I saying “Crazy mzungu!” in swahili.
In town we were looking for a dala dala to take Happi to her Maasai village but ended up taking a taxi to Kisongo (the village). There was no electricity so we could only see the mud huts by moonlight.
When we finally met the kids we first went to the main bus stand area where buses come from different African cities (mostly Tanzanian). X showed us where the kids were sleeping first...there were two boys who looked around 8 years old sleeping in front a storefront on concrete with no shoes and definitely no blanket. The kids often sleep in groups to protect each other and avoid rape which is disturbingly frequent. Another boy who had hurt his arm in a fight was sleeping in what looked like a city pig pen and smelled like human waste between two stores surrounded by trash. In the parking lot of the bus stand there were kids who looked around 9 years old sleeping in a group of three huddled together on top of garbage who remarkably were sharing a blanket. A boy nearby who seemed smaller but around the same age was sleeping a empty plastic straw bag people use to carry rice and things to market. This last boy had actually been at Amani and run away. Alot of the children have difficult times dealing with structure after living in the street. Not to mention, the survival skills the kids have had to learn are not valued in the real world...instead it's the skills they don't have- reading, writing, trusting and obeying adults in school that they don't have and makes it more difficult to try and reenter society. After this we walked just outside the bus area (which is all open to whatever weather happens upon the area) and met a group of about 8 kids who were awake. Although they did ask us for money/food at the end, mostly the kids just wanted our attention. It was really very touching and heartbreaking at the same time. A few of them were definitely on drugs or drunk but honestly, when you have nothing and drugs help to aid your pain and lessen your hunger and you have no access to education or anything else, it's understandable. The kids were all asking us our name and where we were from and I played this foot game/dance with them. A few of the kids wanted me to watch while they did cartwheels and X usually plays card games with them to bond. 2 of the kids decided to come to Amani the next day but most of that group has come back and forth to Amani dropping out consistently...which I think has a lot to do having never been integrated into a structured society. Most of the kids we meet are 3 years or so older than they look having never been fed properly- the impact of a lifetime of poor nutrition is incredibly affective at stunting growth, as I've noticed from the kids at Amani as well. One of the boys Tangan said he was 19 but looked 14. Most of the street kids we met that night are also Maasai and sent to cities to earn money as it is more and more difficult for tribes to survive. However a lot of the kids also just come from abusive households or their parents have died or were alcoholics etc etc.
After this X took Asa and I in taxi to the street where most of the prositutes are, most of whom look like they are all in their teens and had a late night dinner at X's hotel.
This was definitely one of the best experiences I’ve had here so far and something I will remember forever. I feel really thankful to be able to experience such different cultures and the different social strata of Tanzania. It’s difficult to explain, but there’s something really freeing about being able to connect with people of all levels of society, particularly those whose lives have been so unimaginably hard, and share a common connection however simple it may be. That being said, it’s been extremely difficult to think about the kids that I met and that their situation exists throughout the world. It makes it all the more strange to look at news headlines and see how isolated they are to specific countries or think about the celebrity gossip news I read all the time while people are suffering so much. But I think everything has to be managed in moderation…if I get consumed by thoughts of suffering then I’m not helping anyone, and everyone needs an outlet for relaxation and fun and stupidity without feeling guilty and punishing themselves. I’d really love to go back and visit the street kids and bring them some food in a few weeks. We shall see…
…And now…if you are still reading this lengthy post: thanks and congrats you made it to the end!
Love,
W
Saturday, February 7, 2009
First week at work...and other happenings
Hi all,
Kilimanjaro looks beautiful today. The past two days it’s been snowing on top so today it looks like a powdered sugar cupcake. Of course, the one day I choose to buy a fan ($25USD...very expensive for here) it starts pouring and our electricity goes out.
So here’s what’s been happening lately:
-I started work at Amani on Monday. The first day was not so great- the day was filled with too many meetings (close to four hours) and I felt like a few of the American volunteers were not so welcoming. As the week has gone on, it’s gotten a lot better and there are some kids I’ve gotten to know who are really sweet and fun to be around. It’s crazy to realize what some of these kids have been through (abuse, neglect, abandonment, murdered parents, alcoholic guardians etc.) and somehow they still manage to be kids and play and laugh and appreciate small things. A lot of the kids are smaller than they should be for their age because of years of not eating properly or living on the street. Some of the kids that are 11 look 8, and so on and so on. Because a lot of them have also grown up around violence, they are very physical with each other, which can be a challenge. They can’t really pronounce my name (just like in Mexico) so they usually call me Winnie or Whitty and some of the staff members call me Whit. For the most part, I really enjoy being around them and feel like they trust me a bit more each day, which feels very rewarding.
-On Monday night one of the cooks at Amani, Esther, showed up at my house to show me where she lives (nearby). It turned out it was only about a 5 minute walk down some dirt roads near my house. Her apartment was pretty small but still nice. A beautiful photograph would have been of her in her kitchen, which is small and has low lighting. The walls are this bright teal that is fading in places near the sink, and above the faucet she had this bright white plate with red roses on it. For some reason in my mind it was a really beautiful image, as her kitchen really does not have much and yet there are these vibrant areas in the room that in some ways reflect her positive energy. She has two sons and told me that her husband was killed a few years ago by an angry co-worker. I have met so many widows here it’s unbelievable…I’m pretty shocked how common it is. Esther invited me to stay for dinner, gave me about 10 mangoes from her tree and walked me home with her son Freddy. It was like a mini home-stay. It’s funny how in Tanzania people are so welcoming and friendly and within a few hours of meeting you often invite you over. Even with so much poverty, which I admit gets a little bit tiring to see all the time, people are so willing to invite you into their homes and share their lives with you despite their limited resources.
-There’s been some drama over our dog Luna eating the neighbors’ chickens that wander onto our property across the non-existent fence. Ugh. Sometimes our chickens munch on trash in our garbage pit, which makes me not want to eat a chicken for a year. I forgot if I said this before but they burn all the trash here…with few exceptions….so it’s no wonder the ice caps on Kilimanjaro are melting. Also, it stinks (terribly).
-Last week we visited Nshara Clinic in a village outside of Moshi called Machame. The daladala drive out there is probably around 30 minutes, with a really beautiful view of Mt. Kilimanjaro and open fields. It is a short walk to the clinic on a dirt road surrounded by banana trees. The clinic itself is a small one-story house. We met with a doctor who told us that some of the most common problems are HIV, AIDS, malaria, arthritis, dehydration, malnutrition and I forget the rest…One of the more bizarre scenes was this small wooden hut/shack outside with jungle behind it, where they temporarily let male patients rest who have IVs. Most businesses here including the clinic (and Amani also) have tea time at 10 or 10:30, which is when they stop everything and serve sweetened Chai and these thick round donuts I can’t eat that have no holes.
-On Saturday, Nikki, Marilyn and I visited Memorial Market, which is a short ride from Moshi town. From faraway it looked a little bit like a refugee camp since the stands are made out of whittled tree branches topped with orange tarps. It’s a second hand market where they sell t-shirts for 30 to 50 cents and yell out the price over and over and over again to entice buyers. A lot of the shirts are from Old Navy or Gap. Marilyn was telling me that a lot of times when big clothing corporations have surplus clothes they can’t sell, they sell them wholesale to poorer countries like Tanzania. I got a few shirts and I’m having an African style dress made out of a blue kanga.
-My Kiswahili is getting better but I do really miss speaking Spanish. One of my favorite words here is kwasababu (because) haha…I don’t know why. One phrase I’m getting sick of is “Mambo?” (How’s everything?) “Poa” (Cool). I liked it at first, but once you’ve heard it in the street about 1,000 times, it gets a little old and I slowly stop wanting to answer the question. Something else that’s getting old is everyone and their mother asking me about Barack Obama. Sometimes they just say “Hongera!” (congratulations); other times they realize I’m American and just chant his name over and over again, or they say it’s great how I have a black president and go on and on about it (very tiring). Yea. Race here is such a strange thing. Being stared at all the time like an alien, sometimes I just want to say “get over it, I look different,” but I have to keep in mind that people are not exposed to racial differences in the same way as we are in the U.S..
-I’ve done my laundry a few times. The way they do laundry here is first put your dirty clothes in a rubbery plastic bin, add water and some powdered soap, rub it all together with your hands and let it sit for awhile. Then you pour the nasty grey water into our unhygienic bathtub or outside on the dirt and rinse all your things and hang it all outside in the sun in the scorching heat on the line. It actually works pretty nicely and it’s nice not to depend on a machine that I wouldn’t know how to fix if it broke.
-Ok, this is long enough and hopefully it wasn’t a bore to read. It’s pretty strange to be having summer in February on the equator. I keep having to remind myself it’s not July. Thinking of you all and hope life is treating you well. Kwaherini! (Bye).
Kilimanjaro looks beautiful today. The past two days it’s been snowing on top so today it looks like a powdered sugar cupcake. Of course, the one day I choose to buy a fan ($25USD...very expensive for here) it starts pouring and our electricity goes out.
So here’s what’s been happening lately:
-I started work at Amani on Monday. The first day was not so great- the day was filled with too many meetings (close to four hours) and I felt like a few of the American volunteers were not so welcoming. As the week has gone on, it’s gotten a lot better and there are some kids I’ve gotten to know who are really sweet and fun to be around. It’s crazy to realize what some of these kids have been through (abuse, neglect, abandonment, murdered parents, alcoholic guardians etc.) and somehow they still manage to be kids and play and laugh and appreciate small things. A lot of the kids are smaller than they should be for their age because of years of not eating properly or living on the street. Some of the kids that are 11 look 8, and so on and so on. Because a lot of them have also grown up around violence, they are very physical with each other, which can be a challenge. They can’t really pronounce my name (just like in Mexico) so they usually call me Winnie or Whitty and some of the staff members call me Whit. For the most part, I really enjoy being around them and feel like they trust me a bit more each day, which feels very rewarding.
-On Monday night one of the cooks at Amani, Esther, showed up at my house to show me where she lives (nearby). It turned out it was only about a 5 minute walk down some dirt roads near my house. Her apartment was pretty small but still nice. A beautiful photograph would have been of her in her kitchen, which is small and has low lighting. The walls are this bright teal that is fading in places near the sink, and above the faucet she had this bright white plate with red roses on it. For some reason in my mind it was a really beautiful image, as her kitchen really does not have much and yet there are these vibrant areas in the room that in some ways reflect her positive energy. She has two sons and told me that her husband was killed a few years ago by an angry co-worker. I have met so many widows here it’s unbelievable…I’m pretty shocked how common it is. Esther invited me to stay for dinner, gave me about 10 mangoes from her tree and walked me home with her son Freddy. It was like a mini home-stay. It’s funny how in Tanzania people are so welcoming and friendly and within a few hours of meeting you often invite you over. Even with so much poverty, which I admit gets a little bit tiring to see all the time, people are so willing to invite you into their homes and share their lives with you despite their limited resources.
-There’s been some drama over our dog Luna eating the neighbors’ chickens that wander onto our property across the non-existent fence. Ugh. Sometimes our chickens munch on trash in our garbage pit, which makes me not want to eat a chicken for a year. I forgot if I said this before but they burn all the trash here…with few exceptions….so it’s no wonder the ice caps on Kilimanjaro are melting. Also, it stinks (terribly).
-Last week we visited Nshara Clinic in a village outside of Moshi called Machame. The daladala drive out there is probably around 30 minutes, with a really beautiful view of Mt. Kilimanjaro and open fields. It is a short walk to the clinic on a dirt road surrounded by banana trees. The clinic itself is a small one-story house. We met with a doctor who told us that some of the most common problems are HIV, AIDS, malaria, arthritis, dehydration, malnutrition and I forget the rest…One of the more bizarre scenes was this small wooden hut/shack outside with jungle behind it, where they temporarily let male patients rest who have IVs. Most businesses here including the clinic (and Amani also) have tea time at 10 or 10:30, which is when they stop everything and serve sweetened Chai and these thick round donuts I can’t eat that have no holes.
-On Saturday, Nikki, Marilyn and I visited Memorial Market, which is a short ride from Moshi town. From faraway it looked a little bit like a refugee camp since the stands are made out of whittled tree branches topped with orange tarps. It’s a second hand market where they sell t-shirts for 30 to 50 cents and yell out the price over and over and over again to entice buyers. A lot of the shirts are from Old Navy or Gap. Marilyn was telling me that a lot of times when big clothing corporations have surplus clothes they can’t sell, they sell them wholesale to poorer countries like Tanzania. I got a few shirts and I’m having an African style dress made out of a blue kanga.
-My Kiswahili is getting better but I do really miss speaking Spanish. One of my favorite words here is kwasababu (because) haha…I don’t know why. One phrase I’m getting sick of is “Mambo?” (How’s everything?) “Poa” (Cool). I liked it at first, but once you’ve heard it in the street about 1,000 times, it gets a little old and I slowly stop wanting to answer the question. Something else that’s getting old is everyone and their mother asking me about Barack Obama. Sometimes they just say “Hongera!” (congratulations); other times they realize I’m American and just chant his name over and over again, or they say it’s great how I have a black president and go on and on about it (very tiring). Yea. Race here is such a strange thing. Being stared at all the time like an alien, sometimes I just want to say “get over it, I look different,” but I have to keep in mind that people are not exposed to racial differences in the same way as we are in the U.S..
-I’ve done my laundry a few times. The way they do laundry here is first put your dirty clothes in a rubbery plastic bin, add water and some powdered soap, rub it all together with your hands and let it sit for awhile. Then you pour the nasty grey water into our unhygienic bathtub or outside on the dirt and rinse all your things and hang it all outside in the sun in the scorching heat on the line. It actually works pretty nicely and it’s nice not to depend on a machine that I wouldn’t know how to fix if it broke.
-Ok, this is long enough and hopefully it wasn’t a bore to read. It’s pretty strange to be having summer in February on the equator. I keep having to remind myself it’s not July. Thinking of you all and hope life is treating you well. Kwaherini! (Bye).
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