I bought some pineapples and mangoes and they were starting to rot in the heat so I cut them up and dumped them in a container. A previous volunteer had left a whisk so I smashed them and it's delicious. That's a lumpy. I may open a stand. And maybe the heat has gotten to me.
The view from by back porch. I'm a lucky mzungu
My house
Our checkechea (preschool) is growing, we have 3 more kids this week, which brings us to 9. But remember, this school costs 200,000 tsh/year. That's about 200 USD. Which puts it out of range for more than 90% of Beregonians. They're kind of a wild group, our checkechea, but then no one has ever really asked them to do anything but cut grass, and run around the village.
Also behind my house
We begin our morning with greetings, and then the days of the week. They do know most of the day names, but not in any particular sequence, so everyday Bea hollers out "TODAY IS SUNDAY." Every day. If we tell him today is Wednesday and then ask about tomorrow he says, " TOMORROW IS SUNDAY". We call him Pastor now.The same with numbers and letters, they just holler out anything. It's a process.
We have snack time at about 9:30. Most people here only eat once a day until harvest time, so it's a hungry group. I buy peanuts and they bring water. The have to ask for the peanuts, as well as the desired amount, in English.
By the second day Mbuli had it all figured out and asked " Teacher, may I have 10 peanuts?" Today he asked for 19 peanuts. I don't think we're planning to teach them much past 30.
Africans don't drink much water, as a rule. Isaac said they've grown used to not drinking, water being frequently scarce and/or dirty, so hamna shida. But we asked the parents to send the kids with a bottle of water for break time. I guess no one has told the kids that they're accustomed to not drinking, because they seem thirsty enough and chug it right down. Angel and Christina have peed on the floor already, and Jennifer just made it to the choo (toilet) today.
We're considering a feeding program for the morning. It shouldn't cost too much. I hate watching the little kids fade after an hour or so. I may be making a shameless plea for funds soon. (remember those?)
I have 6 afternoon students now, all at different levels. It would probably help if I was an actual teacher but oh well. When you have to start with hello, I figure I can't do much harm. Besides, it's free.
So we learn to speak by speaking, identifying body parts, naming household items, asking questions. That's how I found out that there's only one meal a day. I asked Waziri (my star pupil) to describe his day in English and I was prompting him. I asked what he had for breakfast and he said nothing and I asked him why and he said because there was nothing. Another loaded question is how many brothers and sisters do you have, because then I find out that Neema's brother has died. There's no safe subjects here.
You may recall from past trips my fascination with chickens. Nothing has changed
I went up to the village yesterday to take pictures of the new school that's being built but got distracted by some women going to fetch water. I asked them how far and they said "not far." Just over there. For those of you who haven't spent time here, never ask an African how far something is unless you're in a car.
So I decided to go with them, and they asked me Unaweza? Which is Kiswahili for can you do it? Ignoring the so generously given clue I said Ndiyo, ndiyo, nataka mazoezi. I need the exercise. It was a good half hour in the heat, over hill and dale, gullies and rocks . I don't know the temperature, I never like to ask. I try to convince myself that it's cooler than it is, which, by the way, doesn't work. The pictures will tell you much more than I can say. I had some water with me, but in light of what they were pulling up out of the sand I couldn't bring myself to haul out my brand new bottle of clean, store bought maji.
African women think wazungu women are generally rich, weak and spoiled, and I'm always trying to convince them that we're strong and able. We can wash our clothes, dishes, all that crap. They're surprised that as yet I haven't hired "a girl" to cook and generally pick up after me, but I watched a woman put 3 buckets on her head and I had to concede.
What can I say??
Note the mtoto on her back.
I know I spend a good bit of time talking about water, but it's a big topic here, except among the men, who don't fetch water. I won't go into how I feel about that as I've already made myself VERY CLEAR ON THAT POINT MANY TIMES ALREADY. I did mention to one of the men that if they had to fetch water there'd be a faucet right in the middle of the village. He was less than amused.
Where the water comes from.
What the water looks like. A few minutes after I took this picture, the kid drank this water.
Got a marriage proposal the other day. I was walking to work on Monday and this older Massai man ( loads of Massai in this area), was talking to me and asked where my husband was. When I told him I didn't have one he smiled and offered himself to me so I wouldn't be alone anymore. Massai traditionally circumcise their girls so they can be proper wives, but if you marry a Massai and are not Massai, you are not required to surrender your genitalia. I told him bado (not yet). Besides, at my age I wouldn't fetch much of a bride price. Then there's the fetching water on my head thing. All in all, it'd probably be best if he married someone else.
The Massai live around here, so you can see them in various places. From childhood, I remember looking at the NatGeo and seeing Massai herding cows, jumping in the air... But progress comes to us all, sooner than later. I've seen Massai on motorbikes, at bus stations, and of course, herding cows. They're an interesting group, and I've been invited to visit a village one of these days.
Like I said, progress will arrive, note the phone.
Massai guy, not the one who wants to marry me.
I observed a surgery today, a ruptured uterus. That's an entire email unto itself, so bado.
I hope everyone is well and happy, I'm fine. Life is good. It's cooled down enough to be hungry, so I'm going home.
Went to Morogoro yesterday, the big city, and bought cheese and butter. Got home just before they were irreparably melted, so there is a cheese sandwich in my future. That and a lumpy and I'm good to go.
Nakupenda. ML
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