Where Cough Drops Cost More Than Valium

Lumuli Mgego, my youngest English student

 and apparently 

the only person in Berega with a brain. 

Also she fits into the tub. 

She can say no and there. 

Went to Morogoro today, to pick up some food and have my birthday lunch. Sadly, there's nothing even approaching  birthday fare in Berega. I could have fashioned a cake shaped mound of ugali and sprinkled it with sugar, but in the end, that's just how it would have tasted. Went to Ricky's, but it was so hot, how hot was it, that I almost couldn't eat. If I hadn't traveled 2 hours to get there I would have just forgotten about it. So instead of samosas, chicken fried rice and chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream as I had planned, I had a chicken sandwich and ice cream. O and an iced coffee. Not a banquet, but a satisfactory beginning to my sikisty second year.


I've had a cough for a couple of weeks, no doubt brought on by excessive talking. I teach about 5 hours/day, it's dusty here, and I have to repeat myself nine thousand times, so I have irritated my throat. I went into the pharmacy to buy some Valium, for my occasional bouts of age induced insomnia, and saw they had throat lozenges. They were kind of brown and hairy looking so I asked what was in them, the pharm guy said ginger, and other stuff. I figured they were organic, hence the fuzziness. I bought 2 strips and popped one in my mouth. I could taste the ginger, and camphor, but it took a while to figure out the undertaste. Bacon. And in a largely Muslim town! Anyway, I paid 1000/tsh (about 60 cents) per strip, which was more than I paid for the Valium. So I steeled myself to suck the life out of the bacon drops. I got about 50 yards and had to spit them over the bridge into the river. Who does that? I tried to convince myself it was something other than camphorated bacon, but the longer it was in my mouth the worse it got. Again, who does that?

Berega Secondary School occasional school bus.

We have a coaster in the village now, a bus about twice the size of a daladala. It breaks down on average once per trip, so it's not in much demand. But I've been seeing the bus fundis (guys with tools but not necessarily training) under the chassis for a while now, and figured possibly they had the bugs worked out. Besides, they leave Morogoro two hours later than the daladala so I don't have to run around like a mad mzungu and I have time for a leisurely lunch, and the odd bacon lozenge should I feel the urge.



Got a good seat, and am happy to say that the trip went smoothly, although I'm not sure but I think the gear shift should not move independently of the driver. It was twirling around for most of the trip, but the driver was able to wrestle it into position as needed. Between me and the driver was the engine compartment, and it was tres hot. How hot was it? I, for one, was happy to steer clear. But it got crowded after a bit, so some guy actually sat on it. He must have been very tired. He sat there squirming, till finally I put my 12 newly purchased ABC books under his matako. In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, What a maroon!
The scholarship fundraiser went well, thanks to all who helped. We were able to
1. give three partial scholarships for some of the single moms
2. give two full scholarships
3. buy some books and
4.  have some desks and chairs made for the new kids.

Old guy walking to his shamba (farm.)

Also Ute, who runs the orphanage, was able to get funding for three more kids. We now have enough monthly income for a breakfast and lunch program. Breakfast is ugi, a porridge made of maize, peanuts, wheat and milk. The kids eat it everyday. Lunch will be ugali and beans, with greens, every other day. We will alternate it with kande, a bean and maize stew. This would never fly in America, the kids would throw the food across the room before they'd eat the same thing everyday, but kids here are mostly just happy to be eating. If we get two more students we can give rice and meat once a week. So all is going well.
Martha has taken over the Standard 1 group, who I taught last year when they were in preschool. She is a qualified teacher so it's her class now. How I miss them, my bright little English speaking math whizzes. I've got the little ones and had to laugh because when I held up a number card, and asked What number is this, someone said Fish. This is exactly what happened last year.So there's hope.
Three of our new kids are orphans from down the road, and you can tell the difference. Twice in Africa I've lived in orphanages and have noticed a few things. Watoto yatima (orphans) are very self sufficient, they have trouble relating, and need a little more time to get with the program. Plus their buttons never get replaced. But that makes sense, given there's nobody consistent to help them along.
Jackie and Vicent are somehow brothers, in some African fashion. They are five months apart in age, and the first few days I was thinking they'd been raised by wolves. But they seem to be settling down, hopefully Jackie will figure out whether he's right or left handed, or both. Usually kids know this by now, I'm watching for clues, but so far it's nebulous.
If a school kid here does something wrong, he hears about it right away, African justice being swift and brutal. But what a kid does well is generally ignored. So when I commented on their very lovely As, which took about an hour to write, they were pretty jazzed to be noticed. They're actually kind of cute, in a scruffy aw shucks redneck kind of way.
Jenny is eight, a little old for our class, but she's another orphan who's education has been spotty, plus she's a bit of a bully. I guess nobody has ever told her that you can't just grunt and shove somebody aside if you want to sit down. She's learning lots of new stuff.
So, under the heading of be careful what you ask for, it rained today, first time since December. I was in class with my adults when it started, and it was a downpour. We couldn't hear each other talk, or see the board. Most of my students are farmers, so they were looking out he window, smiling in anticipation of their thirsty maize finally getting a good, long drink. They stopped smiling when the hail started. Now the maize is lying flat. It may or may not come back up but some of the crop is ruined.
But for the first time in weeks I'm not sweating, I have an appetite, I can sleep, and my chupi aren't stuck to my matako. So we take the good with the less good and move on.
Update on the crops, the stalks that weren't too high are starting to rise, the more mature stalks are down, and will probably stay that way. The wakulima (farmers) are replanting a quick crop and hoping for a better result.
Blad (african pronunciation of Brad) has a thing in the house that measures the temp, and records it. In the beginning I refused to look at it, because it made me hotter, but now it's developed into a sick little game I play throughout the day. I can tell you within two degrees just how hot it is at any given moment in my house. 86-91 seem to be the prevailing temps. I need a damn hobby.
nakupenda