Paradise for the politically incorrect

I've complained long and hard over the years about the metastasis of political correctness, seems a person can't say anything anymore for fear of offending someone. So for those of you of like mind, KARIBU AFRICA, the mother ship is calling you home.

The man in the back caught this monkey

 in the forest and now he lives in Magubike and 

likes tomatoes.

On my first trip to Tz, a few of us were perusing some books we'd bought for the kids at the children's center. We came upon a children's first dictionary made by Vika, a local company that publishes educational material. Cute book, with clever little drawings depicting each word, A to Z. Like Richard Scarry and Sesame Street. Pretty standard stuff until we came to J.

They went downriver and clowned for the camera. 

 I didn't tell them I've got 24x zoom power.

There's about a million words that begin with J, but Vika chose jail. J is for Jail. The accompanying picture showed a mournful looking man staring out of a cell, gripping the bars. The caption read "Hamisi's uncle is in jail".

On to S. A picture of a man holding a smoldering rifle over a dead deer, tongue lolling to the side, blood on the ground, little x's over it's eyes. "Amina's uncle shot a deer".

So by then I was laughing so hard I 

Water pump in the middle of Magubike. 

It's women's work to fetch water, 

so you'll see very few boys doing 

this past the age of 8 or 10. 

Then they simply refuse, and the girls take over.

was crying, and then there was V. Of ALL the words in the world beginning with V, they had a picture of a cute little schoolgirl holding her stomach while she V is for vomited on the ground. Lots of graphic little splatters of little Violet's (V is for Violet) recent lunch. Probably ugali.

Local farmer selling sugar cane.

That was in 2005, and here I am, back in Tz. I found some English books to use with Waziri, the 18 year old student I tutor at night. The exercise was to change the verb from active to passive form. The sentence given to us was "He beat the thief to death", which in the passive form would be "The thief was beaten to death by him". Another gem of a sentence was They are beating her now. I forgot what we were supposed to do with that one.

The rains have arrived so all the kids can
throw off their clothes and swim in the river.

Then we studied question tags, which are small questions such as isn't it? or didn't we?, tagged onto a statement (hence the name) Up until now I never even knew they existed, but apparently the appropriate question tag for the sentence "You cannot beat your mother", is can you?? You have to love a place like this.

 Habeli, with his pikipiki

Africa is also the place where I have heard, and not for the first time, "You white people all look alike".

I asked Waziri how school went today, he said good. I asked what was good about it and he said "I got to school early today so I was not punished". Will now try, to the best of my recollection, to replay this conversation verbatim.

Magubike market

And how are you punished?
Well, sometimes we are beaten with a stick and other times we have to clean the toilets (if you've got a brain in your head you'll take the stick).
When you are beaten, how many times will the teachers strike you?
Oh, maybe 6 or 12 times.
Are the girls caned?
Yes, but they are caned on the arm.
Where are the boys caned?
On the buttocks.
Will they sometimes cane more than one student?
Yes, they can beat us all if they wish.

Old goat 

Sometimes I can't believe the conversations I have here.
Ive mentioned Waziri a few times, so let me tell you more. He's very bright. They just took their mid term exams. and he passed 6 of his 7 subjects. Passing is 51%. He got a 90 in English, his favorite subject. He failed Physics. I asked why and he said they don't have a physics teacher. I asked how long the teacher has been absent and he said there never was one. Waziri studies 7 subjects, English, Biology, Kiswahili, Physics, Civics, History, and Math. Four out of his 7 subjects have no teacher. According to Waziri, the kids just sit around and play or study, as the mood strikes them. Waziri studies.

Typical backyard in the village. 

Clothes drying on the bushes.

The shallow baskets are used for cleaning rice

Ive been in Africa enough to know this is pretty standard for rural schools. It was the same in Idweli when I taught 6th grade English. Not many teachers want to come to a small village, there's nothing to do. Even if there are teachers assigned to an area, that doesn't mean they actually show up. But you have to wonder what would happen if he was sent to a proper school with a library, science labs and hey, teachers.

Along those lines I asked him if he'd like to go to a different school, and if so, where. So we talked and I've talked with his parents (really nice people), and Mungu akipenda he will attend St. Alpha's School in Morogoro. It's only 400 USD/year for boarding school. Will be working on that over the next few months.

I love living around all the goats and cows,
saw these on the Magubike trip.

I've gotten past being angry about all this crap. It won't change anything, there's just too much to be angry about, and eventually I would go insane. So I try to make end runs around the garbage. I guess I've just adjusted, which you must do because in the end, Africa Always Wins.

Went to Magubike last weekend, to visit friends and troll for fruit, as we are virtually fruitless here in Berega. Went on the pikipiki with my friend Habeli, who owns the bike. Had a nice visit with Kaleni, the leader of The Group. I paid my dues, we walked around the village, and I scored some fruits and veggies.

We were talking about the recent increases in pikipikis (a license is a plus, but not a must) over last few years and she mentioned a couple of accidents she's had, and showed me her battle scars. I told her I felt jinxed and we laughed.

Transporting charcoal from far away.

Then on the way home we skidded on some gravel on a curve and went down. Nothing broken except Habeli's hand brake. I got a couple of bruises, but my camera and the fruit came through without a scratch. It's not the village roads that scare me, it's the big roads. The big buses and cars are apparently driven by vehicular virgins, but in the village all we really have to worry about are stray goats and cows. No one cares about the chickens, who are incredibly stupid and apparently not worth a swerve. And if I have offended any chickens with that last remark, I am truly unrepentant.

 Will catch up after my likizo (vacation) . Nakupenda. L