Home Sweet Home

Good rain means more toys for the kids.

I'm nomadic by nature, I think that's obvious, but I've had enough for a while. In five weeks I've visited three states, crossed three continents (twice), I don't know how many time zones (twice), and the International Dateline (again, twice). Eventually I was waking up disoriented, and had to remind myself who and where I was. I'd make a lousy rock star. Got back to Berega, rested one day and then went to Mbeya.

Dad driving kid home on pikipiki. He stopped for the picture, 

no helmet, no nothing. The kid just hangs on, if he knows what's 

good for him. 

The large bus system here has been at times adequate, at times less than adequate, and often damn scary. But I've been on enough of them to know which to avoid. Sumry was, at one time, very nice but had become one of the more depressing rides, rude drivers, dirty, sticky seats, passing on a curve/hill at 150 km/hr... But Green Star and Mbeya Express are very nice.
So I went to Mbeya on Green Star. New, clean seats, two by two seating (you really want to avoid a three seat row), movies, and they turn off the movies passing through Mikumi National Park, so we can watch the animals. They even gave us water, soda and biscuits (cookies of a sort, they taste like pesticide but who's counting).

Early Saturday morning in the village. We eat a lot of goat here.

If I was them I'd probably not hang around just waiting.

Mbeya was good, I paid off the school fees for Martha and Christina, they're doing well. Also arranged for Ahadi, Violet and Rosie to attend VETA, a govt sponsored vocational school. These are kids I've known for years, in fact, I lived with them at the orphanage in Idweli. Visited friends, ate Indian food, stocked up on fruit I can't get in Berega, which is almost any fruit.
I purchased my return ticket on Mbeya Express the day after I got to Mbeya, because I wanted a window seat. On Saturday morning I arrived at the bus station at 0600, looking forward to a very comfortable ten hour ride home. Wrong, the bus was broken but the ticket agent said hanma shida, Mommy,I have booked you a nice window seat on SUMRY, the bus of death. Went through all the stages of grief, denial, bargaining, acceptance, but when I got on the bus it was lovely. All the goodies of Green Star and Mbeya Express. The guys even wore uniforms. Looks like competition for passengers has finally forced the buses to clean up their acts, seats and aisles.

Dogs here don't move. This is the third dog who looked right 

at while we drove around him.

So ten relatively pleasant hours later I arrived in Morogoro, to catch the coaster (medium sized bus) to the junction where I would be met and taken to Berega. THERE ARE NO DIRECT ROUTES IN AFRICA.
Found a coaster with seats still available, which is good and bad. The good is you don't have to stand while these guys careen along the highway. The bad news is now we sit in 90 degree heat till the bus fills. This generally takes about three hours.

Umeme poles. Electricity is coming, maybe next month, maybe

next year, but the poles are up. Isaac has promised me the

school will have light. 

It was Saturday, so when we passed the bimonthly Massai Market, we acquired six very tall Massai, complete with walking sticks, eighteen inch knives, and wooden knobs, which look like a humerus and I think are used to hit cattle on the head. Needless to say they took up all the remaining room on the bus, and were, as always, fascinating to watch.
I always wonder what would happen if one of these guys were to get on a bus in America, because they don't go anywhere without the stick, knife and knob. Can't imagine an American bus driver trying to disarm them. I'd like to bring one or two across the ocean just to watch. Massai have a presence. There's just something about them, aside from the fact that they take up twice as much room as other people, but seem to spread out in comfort, unlike the rest of us. They just exist on a different plane.

sunrise on Lake Malawi

Was met at the junction by my friend Isaac, the hospital director, who has just recently learned to drive. Our regular driver has a broken arm, so Isaac collected me. It was about the third time he's driven, and his first night drive, He drives like an old lady, but given the state of the road, the dark, the lack of electricity, the cows in the road, he did just fine. I did have to tell him that it's road courtesy to pull to the side so the bikes, cows, and pedestrians can pass.
School has resumed, and we have a bunch of new kids. We spent the first week reviewing, they didn't forget much. Before likizo, I amassed a couple hundred blocks, just ends from the carpenters, different sizes and shapes. I painted them, then decorated them with numbers, letters, sentences, shapes, math problems. The kids love them, but they mostly don't have anything, so they're not hard to please.
Brought some movies and animal videos back with me, for Friday. Friday is our play day, we work for an hour or so, then I put a DVD in my computer. We invited the kids from the Kiswahili school and watched Milo and Otis, a personal favorite. The kids were transfixed, but then so was I. Seems I find Dudley Moore irritating as a human, but I like him just fine as a dog.
There's so much of everything in the First World that there's not many surprises left for most of us. But here, wow, you show kids a video of animals or fish and they're just stunned. Remember, all they see is what's in the village, or another village, or maybe Mororgoro. The exposure level here is minimal. So if anyone wants to send me your kids old DVDs, feel free, just contact me athiloliz@gmail.com and I'll give you the info. Adult movies as well, my afternoon students like them, and it's good practice listening to English. By adult movies I refer to movies for grown people, not Debbie Does Dallas or Naughty Nuns.

Massai with cows. 

 Check out the horns.

Most Massai have maintained the old culture, very few have 

adopted western dress or occupation. Some have gone into 

tourism, but cows are still the measure of wealth.

So it's time for my next shameless plea for funds, only two in a year, not bad. If you got this on my gangmail, just skip over it. Thanks. We need more chekechea students, we can't just teach kids who come from affluent parents. Strictly speaking, nobody is affluent here, but in the village it means you can afford to pay 200,000 tsh/ year for tuition. That's about 130 USD, or about 11 USD/month. For Isaac,and the doctors, this is hamna shida. But for Aissa, Mary, or some other parents, it's a stretch. Most of the kids in our class have parents who work at the hospital so even if they don't get paid much, they get paid regularly. Christina's mom is the cook for the nursing school, she makes 65,000 the/mo, about 44 USD.


It's been on my mind to get some scholarships started, and now is a good time. Normally I would just add them to the list of school kids I pay for, but frankly, I can't afford any more kids. SO, anyone wanting to help out, karibu. My friend Sharon already gave enough for one kid, thanks cutie. I'd like four or five more, if possible.

This is a private school, and it was started in an effort to keep the hospital staff from leaving to go where there are good schools. We are understaffed, and can't afford to have staff bailing on us for lack of decent schools. But even a private school is part of the community and we should be taking in kids pro bono, just because.

You can go to the www.Hands4Africa.org site and either donate by Paypal, or send a check. Either way, mark the funds for me, and it will get to me. The laminating project was a huge success, we are festooned with math time tests and alphabet cards. Please don't think you need to donate the entire tuition fee. It all adds up, so thanks in advance.

It rained a lot while I was gone, everything is green and lovely again. My yard is a wild mess of grass, trees and what have you, much to the horror of my neighbor who likes his grass cut military short. But I'm from the tropics, I like it a little wild. The butterflies are back, and the goats and cows come by regularly because I have lots of grass. Spent most of this Sunday reading on the porch, watching the rain. All the locals are happily planting, anticipating a good harvest. Lots of ugali for everyone. Maisha ni mzuri.

nakupenda