Entry via Letter
There must be a shout-out to all those who are fighting for my sanity and sugar withdrawal on the home front. First, thank-you-vivid reader of my blog, for procrastinating whatever activity you were productively performing (studying, putting pointless car parts on to a car feeding the cat) to stop and read my blog. By reading about my experience with African culture you are helping me teach and bring the culture home to you. This is one of Peace Corps goals, and your avid viewership helps me fulfill it.
Second, a monumental thanks to all you who send me letters. I love to read them. I love to write quirky responses. Giving me news and pictures from home helps me stay informed and keeps the home sickness at bay, thank-you!
Finally, to all you dedicated senders of packages, I must publically declare for both you and the contents of your gifts my undying love, and also the delight of the students who have also benefitted from the contents.
Lillian Swenka, Jeanna Bryant and crew sent me a surprise package that arrived just before Thanksgiving, containing pictures (!) and Halloween candy and treats. When my student and I opened this package we immediately ate the entire package of double stuffed Oreos and bag of candy corn, and thus learned an important lesson “when one eats America food, one becomes very sick”. I personally felt that it was WORTH IT. A large hit in the package were the pictures that I hung on my wall. My friends Jeanna and John became instant celebrities because of their dogs – full bread Great Danes Wyatt and Evey, who appear in many photos. Students now ask if these dogs are used in farming, if all dogs in America are that big, and if Jeanna can bring her dogs to visit. Students also got a taste of American culture through the Halloween-theme package when they saw pictures of Pumpkin carvings and flipped through the Halloween book – amazed and slightly appalled that American children dressed like “hooligans” and then had the audacity to ask people for candy. They were even more surprised when I told them most people gave them candy. The package was a delicious learning experience for us all, and I’m personally thankful for my crew at home for thinking about me! ☺
My beautiful niece Alexa and her extremely intelligent caregivers sent me package number 2 – which arrived on a “Christmas-like” day when I received 3 packages. Pictures of my brother’s family already hang throughout my house- my students and mama’s alike are always shocked that my “poor brother” only has one daughter (instead of 6) – yet the wizened nurses at the dispensary applaud the great example of “American family planning”. This package was anther learning experience as I was able to explain the tradition of stockings, ornaments, and snowmen – which Alexa had drawn on a Christmas card with a thought bubble stating – “I would rather be in Tanzania!” All of the candy was swiftly hidden by one student when another cam knocking on my door (“teacher you must hide the candy or we will have to share”) and even the Hy-Vee sacks that were used as packing materials became prized (you have to pay for plastic bags here!). One of the most thoughtful gifts was a ball of yarn and collar for my cat Pepsi. The minute I lifted if from the box she must have known it was hers, because she grabbed it in her mouth and leaped off the table-running to a corner of the room where she proceeded to rip it apart – and growl ominously at anyone with the nerve to walk within 3 feet of her and her gift. Thought the package made me miss not spending Charismas at my brother’s house with his family, the prized contents of the package will hang in my room until next X-mas!
My grandparents sent package number 4, the contents of which I feared had suffered damage since the box was badly battered. I soon was at ease though as when I opened the thread of tape holding it shut and saw my grandma’s card and Christmas picture smiling back at me. In a country where towels are expensive and extremely hard to find, she had sent me enough to last me the next two years. Though my students didn’t understand why I got so excited over towels when there was a stack of pipi marekani (American candy) left in the box – I knew Grandma was thoughtful as always when she packed the box. Probably the most prized part of the gift was the small oatmeal container – the vessel of choice when Grandma delivers cookies – a rare glance is usually sited right after the delivery of such cookies, before they disappear to a location only known by my father. Miraculously, each of the sugar – cookies had survived the trip to Tanzania and they were delicious! After putting away our gigs and sitting down to tea with these cookies, my student banged his glass down on the table and stated “God bless Bibi Manekani (American grandmother) for sending biscoti Marekani (cookies)”. He followed this up by asking when my Grandma was coming to Tanzania to visit. The cookies, candies, towels, and other treats were all hidden in a secure location, and my Grandparents picture hangs on my wall for all to see, all impressed and shocked when I tell them my Grandparents are both 85 and 86.
The final package was mostly celebrated by me – as it contained products essential to my personal hygiene. One student claimed that my parents “didn’t like me as much” as my brother’s family and grandparents because everything they sent was an indication that my parents “do not approve of your overall cleanliness”. Oh if they only knew. My parents also sent my sharpie collection, which even now is at work making time-tables and posters for the up-coming school year. My parents are constantly keeping up my sanity behind-the-scenes, posting my blogs and updating me on American politics once a week – I wouldn’t be the same here without their love and support.
To become a part of package pandemonium, the membership is simple – cram items into small box, take to post office – mail. For those already dedicated members you again have my deepest heartfelt thanks, your letters and packages give me that little taste of home that I miss every now and then when I’m defending my candy from rats or scratching mosquito bites. Thank-you!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
No Pain No Gain
Entry via Letter
I decided it was time to weed and finish planting my garden around the time I got home form Dar. The beds had been previously double dug by volunteers among my students, but the needed sprucing and weeding now that the rain had arrived with a vengeance and turned all the dust bowl area around my home into a tropical paradise. My students all absent, I proudly wielded my hoe, weeded and sowed seeds into the garden alone, causing huge blood blisters to well up on my hands and kinks in my arms and back that not even Ibuprofen could cure. These blisters ended up being my celebratory flag however, as I went to the village later in the day to visit my mamas. They nodded politely when I told them I planted a garden, but the minute I showed them my hands they broke into grins and ran their fingers constantly over the angry bumps. One mama held my hand in hers then showed me the calluses on her own hands, saying that now I was truly a mama of Tanzania.
My master plan for the garden is to harvest the different vegetables and fruits, showing all of the mamas and taking them as gifts, before teaching a permaculture seminar later in the year where we can start to make small family gardens with these new seeds close to their homes. It may be difficult to convince a generation of mamas to plant new crops, but I’ hoping that my generation of mamas (between ages 16 – 24) will be convinced by the yummy fruits and vegetables and be willing to try the double-digging gardening process…time will tell.
My own garden now contains pumpkins, two types of cabbage water melon, papaya trees, green peppers, beans, chickpeas, cucumbers, carrots, onions, basil, chives, and corn. The garden isn’t huge; I sued a technique called companion planting to place plants that would grow together, together. The result is a garden that deters bugs, prevents erosion of soil (by using compost) and grows large, healthy vegetables. Of course after months of only rice and beans I’m increasingly becoming more exited about eating these veggies as well.
I decided it was time to weed and finish planting my garden around the time I got home form Dar. The beds had been previously double dug by volunteers among my students, but the needed sprucing and weeding now that the rain had arrived with a vengeance and turned all the dust bowl area around my home into a tropical paradise. My students all absent, I proudly wielded my hoe, weeded and sowed seeds into the garden alone, causing huge blood blisters to well up on my hands and kinks in my arms and back that not even Ibuprofen could cure. These blisters ended up being my celebratory flag however, as I went to the village later in the day to visit my mamas. They nodded politely when I told them I planted a garden, but the minute I showed them my hands they broke into grins and ran their fingers constantly over the angry bumps. One mama held my hand in hers then showed me the calluses on her own hands, saying that now I was truly a mama of Tanzania.
My master plan for the garden is to harvest the different vegetables and fruits, showing all of the mamas and taking them as gifts, before teaching a permaculture seminar later in the year where we can start to make small family gardens with these new seeds close to their homes. It may be difficult to convince a generation of mamas to plant new crops, but I’ hoping that my generation of mamas (between ages 16 – 24) will be convinced by the yummy fruits and vegetables and be willing to try the double-digging gardening process…time will tell.
My own garden now contains pumpkins, two types of cabbage water melon, papaya trees, green peppers, beans, chickpeas, cucumbers, carrots, onions, basil, chives, and corn. The garden isn’t huge; I sued a technique called companion planting to place plants that would grow together, together. The result is a garden that deters bugs, prevents erosion of soil (by using compost) and grows large, healthy vegetables. Of course after months of only rice and beans I’m increasingly becoming more exited about eating these veggies as well.
Busy as a Bee
Entry via Letter
I have been slack on my blog writing duties lately and for this I do apologize, my student and I visited and brought solar power from Dar, I waged and lost a battle against Tanzanian transportation, and the rainy season has increased the amount of insects grass, and snakes in my area – justifying even more my choice to sleep with a machete at night. Oh, I also planted a garden.
The Solar Adventure began on the week after we closed the school. My student, a teach, and I left by bust at the crack of dawn to go to Dar es Salaam, eager to arrive there before dark. The student had never been to Dar es Salaam and so for 9 hours I was woken up to the sound of – “Mwalimu, look at all those people”, Mwalimu is that the Indian Ocean”, “Mwalimu, why are you so tired – don’t you like riding the bus?” (When he woke me up to ask me why I was tired I very nearly strangled him). We arrived in Dar in one piece, and carried on our business as usual, I left to visit my family in Kilosa and my travel companions left to visit theirs in Dar es Salaam. The fun began when I returned and we left to embark on the solar adventure.
Finding solar panels in Dar is a difficult process, mostly due to the number of people selling fake panels, and also the number of vendors who increase the price by 4-500$ when they see a white person. After a 3 hours long walk through the hot streets of Dar, we finally settled on 3 panels, a battery, inverter, and controller that brought me in a little under my set budget, and then we attempted to lug our heavy cargo through e streets of Dar, not an easy feat. We then packed skill-fully each of the heavy and cumbersome items into one of the already bulging 4 bags my student and I were carrying for the 12 hour bus-ride back home.
As is usual for Tanzania, transportation was the most difficult factor in the solar equation. We laid the panels across our laps for the bumpy 12 hours, and then jumped off the bus in the pouring rain (contents of 1 bag falling into the mud) to unload our cargo at the home of another volunteer, whose village is 40-60 k from my own. We felt that getting off in Ngaga would be easier than waiting until Newala and balancing our parcels precariously for the 2 hour walk down the mountain – though I’ll never know what may have happened if we had gone through Newala, I don know that the Ngaga route was not “easier”.
Ngaga is a village on the junction of 2 roads, one heading to Newala, the other passing through smaller villages until Unveira, a large village 6 k away from my own. Loris – open ended trucks that carry people crammed like sardines on the back – pass through Ngaga through most of the day, on heading to Makong’onda around 3 pm. We waited for this lori at the bus stand starting at noon, but by 3:30 pm and after 2 hours of on and off rain we were becoming concerned. A lori passing to a different village stopped and informed us the Marko lori has passed on a different road in the village before Ngaga, they would not be passing through today, so would have to wait until tomorrow. At this point, after being in the same outfit for 3 days straight (including sleeping) covered in mud and still quite damp and sweaty from the present weather, I angrily began to explore other options to get home. The first car I consulted said they would take me – for 70$. The lori who brought the bad news offered to drop us in Makong’onda, altering their route by 10k, for 40$. Also – we would be riding in the back (uncovered) with the rain in a bed already packed to the gills with other people. My favorite offer was from the people with motorcycles, who said we could strap the solar panels and 4 bags to tone bike, and then the student and I could both ride another bike – again for 40$. I refused both rides in the best interest of the expensive solar panels and accessories-sitting in the front of the restaurant daring someone to come try to take them (when we returned to Mako we discovered my camera was gone), and we waited for anther alternative. At 6 pm, this option presented itself in the form of a phone call, stating another lori was coming around 6:30. We relocated from on stand to anther and waited in the pouring rain with two other women hopeful to get to Mako. We did this until 7:30, when it was too dark to see through the sheets of rain, and hauled the load back through mud to the volunteers home – resigned to the through the lori was not coming (it passed Ngaga 30 minutes later at 8pm).
Day 2 of waiting was begun with a bright spot, as we met a man driving some nurses from one village to anther, who told us eventually he would reach Makong’onda. He told us he would be happy to give us a free ride to Mako, and he would pick up his nurse and pass by in 20 minutes. Sipping our celebratory sodas at the stand, we watched as the land rover approached us then left us in the dust, the driver laughing and waging and the single nurse in the back seat taking a smirking glance as they passed. It was at this point I began doubting my ability to get through the day without causing someone physical harm.
The student and I hopped a ride (with all our baggage) to the near by village where the lori to Mako would turn to the alternative road. We waited there for 2 hours until the lori passed then we hoped aboard, only to find the lori headed back to Ngaga, having decided not to take the alterative road that day. The conductor charge us 6$ (2$ more than it should have been, but hey-it was lower then 40$) and we bounded, bumped, and slid our way back to Mako- where 3 students rant to greet me and carry our load. As we got off the lori the conductor made a near fatal error, telling me that I now had to pay an extra dollar because of the load we had carried. Unfortunate for him, I knew that we had already paid 2$ over the original price, but fortunately for him my student saw the look of death in my eyes-the same look I get right before I kill tarantulas in my home – and he pulled me by the arm away from the conductor who I had begun verbally assaulting . The condo stood shocked and people in the lori shrieked with laugher as the angry white girl yelled in fairly accurate Kiswahili that he was a stupid pig for trying to charge extra money for being a white person. – all while being herded away from the scene by students who were trying very hard not to laugh themselves.
As I sit here writing this story at 9 pm by the glowing light of a solar lamp and not the fickle dart of a lantern light, I find the story slightly more humorous. Slightly.
I have been slack on my blog writing duties lately and for this I do apologize, my student and I visited and brought solar power from Dar, I waged and lost a battle against Tanzanian transportation, and the rainy season has increased the amount of insects grass, and snakes in my area – justifying even more my choice to sleep with a machete at night. Oh, I also planted a garden.
The Solar Adventure began on the week after we closed the school. My student, a teach, and I left by bust at the crack of dawn to go to Dar es Salaam, eager to arrive there before dark. The student had never been to Dar es Salaam and so for 9 hours I was woken up to the sound of – “Mwalimu, look at all those people”, Mwalimu is that the Indian Ocean”, “Mwalimu, why are you so tired – don’t you like riding the bus?” (When he woke me up to ask me why I was tired I very nearly strangled him). We arrived in Dar in one piece, and carried on our business as usual, I left to visit my family in Kilosa and my travel companions left to visit theirs in Dar es Salaam. The fun began when I returned and we left to embark on the solar adventure.
Finding solar panels in Dar is a difficult process, mostly due to the number of people selling fake panels, and also the number of vendors who increase the price by 4-500$ when they see a white person. After a 3 hours long walk through the hot streets of Dar, we finally settled on 3 panels, a battery, inverter, and controller that brought me in a little under my set budget, and then we attempted to lug our heavy cargo through e streets of Dar, not an easy feat. We then packed skill-fully each of the heavy and cumbersome items into one of the already bulging 4 bags my student and I were carrying for the 12 hour bus-ride back home.
As is usual for Tanzania, transportation was the most difficult factor in the solar equation. We laid the panels across our laps for the bumpy 12 hours, and then jumped off the bus in the pouring rain (contents of 1 bag falling into the mud) to unload our cargo at the home of another volunteer, whose village is 40-60 k from my own. We felt that getting off in Ngaga would be easier than waiting until Newala and balancing our parcels precariously for the 2 hour walk down the mountain – though I’ll never know what may have happened if we had gone through Newala, I don know that the Ngaga route was not “easier”.
Ngaga is a village on the junction of 2 roads, one heading to Newala, the other passing through smaller villages until Unveira, a large village 6 k away from my own. Loris – open ended trucks that carry people crammed like sardines on the back – pass through Ngaga through most of the day, on heading to Makong’onda around 3 pm. We waited for this lori at the bus stand starting at noon, but by 3:30 pm and after 2 hours of on and off rain we were becoming concerned. A lori passing to a different village stopped and informed us the Marko lori has passed on a different road in the village before Ngaga, they would not be passing through today, so would have to wait until tomorrow. At this point, after being in the same outfit for 3 days straight (including sleeping) covered in mud and still quite damp and sweaty from the present weather, I angrily began to explore other options to get home. The first car I consulted said they would take me – for 70$. The lori who brought the bad news offered to drop us in Makong’onda, altering their route by 10k, for 40$. Also – we would be riding in the back (uncovered) with the rain in a bed already packed to the gills with other people. My favorite offer was from the people with motorcycles, who said we could strap the solar panels and 4 bags to tone bike, and then the student and I could both ride another bike – again for 40$. I refused both rides in the best interest of the expensive solar panels and accessories-sitting in the front of the restaurant daring someone to come try to take them (when we returned to Mako we discovered my camera was gone), and we waited for anther alternative. At 6 pm, this option presented itself in the form of a phone call, stating another lori was coming around 6:30. We relocated from on stand to anther and waited in the pouring rain with two other women hopeful to get to Mako. We did this until 7:30, when it was too dark to see through the sheets of rain, and hauled the load back through mud to the volunteers home – resigned to the through the lori was not coming (it passed Ngaga 30 minutes later at 8pm).
Day 2 of waiting was begun with a bright spot, as we met a man driving some nurses from one village to anther, who told us eventually he would reach Makong’onda. He told us he would be happy to give us a free ride to Mako, and he would pick up his nurse and pass by in 20 minutes. Sipping our celebratory sodas at the stand, we watched as the land rover approached us then left us in the dust, the driver laughing and waging and the single nurse in the back seat taking a smirking glance as they passed. It was at this point I began doubting my ability to get through the day without causing someone physical harm.
The student and I hopped a ride (with all our baggage) to the near by village where the lori to Mako would turn to the alternative road. We waited there for 2 hours until the lori passed then we hoped aboard, only to find the lori headed back to Ngaga, having decided not to take the alterative road that day. The conductor charge us 6$ (2$ more than it should have been, but hey-it was lower then 40$) and we bounded, bumped, and slid our way back to Mako- where 3 students rant to greet me and carry our load. As we got off the lori the conductor made a near fatal error, telling me that I now had to pay an extra dollar because of the load we had carried. Unfortunate for him, I knew that we had already paid 2$ over the original price, but fortunately for him my student saw the look of death in my eyes-the same look I get right before I kill tarantulas in my home – and he pulled me by the arm away from the conductor who I had begun verbally assaulting . The condo stood shocked and people in the lori shrieked with laugher as the angry white girl yelled in fairly accurate Kiswahili that he was a stupid pig for trying to charge extra money for being a white person. – all while being herded away from the scene by students who were trying very hard not to laugh themselves.
As I sit here writing this story at 9 pm by the glowing light of a solar lamp and not the fickle dart of a lantern light, I find the story slightly more humorous. Slightly.
The Tanzanian Blog Song (hum to the tune of "Camp Grenada")
Entry via Letter
Dearest Daddy, Mama Mia,
Here I am in Tanzania
Lots of rain here, we’ve been getting
And they say we’ll have some fun when I stop sweating.
You remember, my cat Pepsi
She’s developed narcolepsy.
To my house she should provide protection
But she snores at rat's who pass by her direction.
Chorus:
Come seeeeee me! Oh dear mom and dad
Come seeeeee me! I’d be so glad to see you
our cuisine, leaves, ants, rice and of course gallons of plain red beans.
Come seeeeee me! I promise I will not make noise,
And introduce you to the boys,
Who want to marry me
to get their green card-ee!
As I sit here, and it’s storming
I am thinking of our dear Gormie
The weather here would, confuse him greatly,
Rain, heat, and sun all work together simultaneous-ly
Writing now, its, getting hotter,
My students tell me to go fetch water,
From the pump that rarely has power,
Lucky if twice a week were all able to shower
Students now saying “Teacher end your letter”
“Your silly rhymes aren’t getting any better”
“To the soccer field we go to play and jog”,
Daddy kindly read and add this to my blog!
Dearest Daddy, Mama Mia,
Here I am in Tanzania
Lots of rain here, we’ve been getting
And they say we’ll have some fun when I stop sweating.
You remember, my cat Pepsi
She’s developed narcolepsy.
To my house she should provide protection
But she snores at rat's who pass by her direction.
Chorus:
Come seeeeee me! Oh dear mom and dad
Come seeeeee me! I’d be so glad to see you
our cuisine, leaves, ants, rice and of course gallons of plain red beans.
Come seeeeee me! I promise I will not make noise,
And introduce you to the boys,
Who want to marry me
to get their green card-ee!
As I sit here, and it’s storming
I am thinking of our dear Gormie
The weather here would, confuse him greatly,
Rain, heat, and sun all work together simultaneous-ly
Writing now, its, getting hotter,
My students tell me to go fetch water,
From the pump that rarely has power,
Lucky if twice a week were all able to shower
Students now saying “Teacher end your letter”
“Your silly rhymes aren’t getting any better”
“To the soccer field we go to play and jog”,
Daddy kindly read and add this to my blog!
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