TOP TEN REASONS THESE BLOGS ARE SO LATE!

10. TRANSPORT ISSUES. The open-ended truck with a roll bar and barely functioning brakes, which serves as the only transportation to and from Makong’onda, keeps leaving the village at 4 in the morning, instead of 5 when they are supposed to, thus leaving me in the dust (or leaving me waiting until 6am when one of the Mamas finally wakes up, laughs at me, says the car passed, and goes back to sleep (usually to the sounds of me swearing, LOUDLY)).

9. CROC HUNTING. (channel the spirit of Crocodile Dundee for this reading). We start at Makong’onda village, where we bike almost 10 miles to the Ravuma River. There we encounter the half naked boat men who gladly give us rides in exchange for a percentage of whatever bounty we capture. We sneak up on the crocs, but they are tricky to see, trickier when no-one (even the crazy boat men) will go near places where they were sited. Thus, we leave empty handed, to limp the ten miles up hill back home in the heat, defeated once again by the grinning, green, great, gargantuan lizards!

SARCASM. I’M NOT HUNTING CROCS. CALM DOWN MOTHER. J

8. CHICKEN DEPOPULATION PROJECT: MAKONG’ONDA. Here in Makong’onda, we appear to have a chicken problem. They are everywhere…and they get into everything, the gardens, the house, the classroom…We’ve decided to get back at these pesky creatures once and for all…by eating them! Chickens are delicious, and the only source of meat that you can find in Makong’onda, or any village for 10K. Because of our extensive amount of guests, combined our own primal urges for meat, we have been working on thinning the population of chickens in Makong’onda. This is a personal small project, and I believe that the chicken depopulation project has ultimately been very successful.

7. OFFICAL POLICE BUSINESS. Before the final examinations at Makong’onda Day, one of the police men (who slept at the school until exams were over) asked me if I would do him the honor of frisking my female students in their paper thin pocketless green skirts, so that he didn’t have to embarrass the girls by doing it himself. Why am I frisking them you ask? Why, to confiscate all of those high-technology gadgets that all African village girls carry on them to use to cheat on their tests. As I made my way thorough the line of girls (who were howling with laughter, possibly because I did most of it with my eyes closed so that I didn’t have to look at them) I reached the end, and Danford, the first boy in the row jumped up, arms spread as wide as the grin covering his face, “My turn! MY TURN!”. My refusal was loud and apparently devastating, as all of the boys moaned and complained (to my retreating backside) about the girls getting “more thoroughly searched”.

6. BICEP BUILDING. This is actually a personal project, involving me carrying water from my home to my garden, and then back to my home, in 20L buckets. 4 repetitions. I also routinely carry around my students’ biology and English notebooks, (all 110 of them) to and from the school. 3 repetitions. Finally, I lift daily, 20 minutes with each arm, my 6 month old friend Brian, who is just starting to eat solid foots, and thus starting to get really heavy. Repetitions dependant upon diapers and access to milk. Though my favorite buff male students still laugh and my weak arms when I try to invite them “TO THE GUN SHOW”, they are starting to get better…

5. NAPS. We have once again entered that stage in our weather where it is too hot to go out after 12, so I take naps. Lots of them. Until the sun goes away.

4. BREWING BOOZE. My buddy JB (see excuse number 3) and I decided that we would not be outdone by Luke’s homemade coconut wine (indeed, it would be hard to be outdone by this particular wine because it was GROSS!), and thus we decided to make ourselves some ginger wine. I heroically drove JB’s evil bicycle, which left scratches all over my left calve, to Nakarara in order to make the wine. We cleaned a bucket, boiled the water (truthfully, she did that before I got there), put in the ginger, 4 kilos of sugar (to the shock of her neighbors), and yeast, then mixed. We waited 3 weeks to taste…pretty potent stuff!

3. NEWBIE. We have a new girl in the vill who hails from Washington DC named Jenny Beth. She’s awesome, likes to run (and is willing to run painfully slow in order to keep up with/encourage me), and is one heck of a knowledgeable gardener. She can be found on any given day roaming the fields of Nakarara looking for something to whack with her machete or a piece of ground where she can thrust her spade. The good people of Nakarara love her, and the here students behave better for her (which is amazing). I’m super excited about having an awesome person to buddy-up with on new projects….stay tuned for our next escapades.

2. AMERICA! One of my students (Mustafa) was very blessed and lucky to get the opportunity to get into the American Embassy Young Leaders program. When we got the phone call we both jumped up and down screaming. When our eardrums and sanity were regained we realized (and by we I really mean I) that we had a lot to do, such as getting passport papers, non-exsistant birth certificates, borrowing a coat that will defend his heat hardened Tanzanian shell from the Colorado cold...it is going to be a busy month before he leaves!

1. ZA MAISHA TANZANIA (Tanzanian Life). Life here goes by so quickly. I didn’t actually realize until a message from my father (something along the line of “we were wondering if you were still alive…”) that it had been so darn long since I had written a blog. With the garden, exercise, crocodile hunting, guests that come and go, seminars, classes, tests, the library, soccer finals, and peace corps reports, its been a busy 3 months. I promise with the help of my new tiny computer I will try to give you bigger, better updates.

As you know, all updates and stories are TOTALLY worth the wait!

Peace and Love from Tanzania!

Mirinda

The Great Garden Project! October 17th

Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime.

Since the creation of the garden outside my house I have received a lot of attention both from my students and villagers alike. Many people in passing were just plain shocked that the white girl was able to actually make her own garden and many others were inspired (probably something along the lines of “if she can do it, ANYONE can do it….which is true…really). Many people began to ask me when we were going to start to make their gardens…and when I thought about it, I realized that this was a project that would require very little money, which would make it a project that would be perfect for….SUSTAINABILITY!
With the help of Jenny Beth, local garden expert from the village next door, my sidekick Musty, camera man Luke, and some awesome flipcharts (which I drew with the help of my AWESOME new colored pencil set from my cousin Verla while eating the AMAZING pork bites (PORK BITES! DELICIOUS!) that my cousin Jan sent), we were able to create a really cool nutrition/permaculture seminar. We invited 10 mamas from the village, IMPLORING them to be on time so that JB (Jenny Beth) would be able to show them how to do the digging and different garden techniques without the sun being a huge nuisance.
We were prepared to start at 8am, which means we weren’t actually expecting anyone to show until 9am…but every Mama arrived at 7:59. This was a great start! JB started the seminar in the garden while I begged/prodded/cursed the DVD player to use my gardening DVD (it didn’t work….at all, BA!). When they returned from double digging, a technique that allows the roots to grow deeper, thus allowing plant spacing to be closer, thus allowing more plants on less space, thus saving water, they were ready to hear all I had to say about nutrition.
We felt that the most important thing to get out of the way was WHY we were building a garden, and WHY other people didn’t already have a garden. The biggest problem was seeds and water, where o where were we going to get water to put on the garden (seeds they were getting from me). This was one of the biggest problems that we addressed. JB took it from a gardening point of view, saying that the compost that we could make and the double digging that we would do in the garden would help contain the water so that less would be needed. I came back with the practical point of view, saying that water used to wash dishes (soap? Please, they never use soap and in the words of JB, “nonbacterial soap is not harmful, and actually adds phosphate (A MACRONUTRIENT) to the plant), water used to bathe children, and water that is used to mop can all be saved to put onto the garden. Not to mention the dirty water that is found around the pump (from the leaks). When all of the Mamas began to nod their heads we realized we had them hooked. So we hit them with a double barrel of nutrition information.
Make a garden, eat better. Short and simple.
By the end of the seminar, the Mamas were really excited, and so were we. One by one (without any encouragement what so ever from me) they stood and gave a little speech about how excited they were to build their gardens. One Mamas speech was especially touching “We’re gonna get out there and we’re gonna make those gardens! Then we’re gonna eat better! Our kids are gonna eat better! We’re gonna plant GREEN PEPPERS (I don’t actually know why she was that excited about green peppers, but that was totally the end of her pep talk…green peppers!)!” After this speech, all of the Mamas got up, filed out, and went back to their business. Us instructors took a nap.
Two days later, every single Mama had a fence built and their beds double dug (or at least dug really, really deep). Other Mamas, having heard of my awesomeness, asked when their seminar would start. In another village, where water is better available, several Mamas asked when we would be able to teach there. The project was indeed a success, and we hope to continue to make as many gardens as possible until we have to quit because of the rain. Out of all of my projects in Tanzania, this was definitely one of the most fulfilling. I can walk about my village having already planted three gardens and peek in to see huge amounts of seedlings popping up in every direction! It’s an exciting time to be living (and eating!) in Makong’onda!

Mazoezi (exercize) Late October

“Mirinda, we see you really like Makong’onda”
“Oh really? Why is that?”
“Because you have gotten so FAT!”
It wasn’t until I learned 5 new ways of how to say “Hey Mirinda, you’re fat”, that I decided that a little exercise may be needed to spice up my life. This isn’t to say that I have blimped out, on the contrary, I haven’t gained that much weight or changed a size since I came back from my mid service checkup, where I had been shown to have gained a little weight (thank YOU America!), but not enough to reap the judgment that I have been getting in my little vill. To be sure, telling someone they are fat is a huge complement in Tanzania, often used when you are wearing a new dress or just re-meeting a past acquaintance. However, to be told by the village nurse, in front of every mama at the dispensary, that you need to start exercising and eating less at meals because you are SO FAT, goes beyond the complement stage and suggests that maybe I should do something so that people will stop telling me I’m fat.
Luckily, we have the trip to Kilimanjaro coming up in a little less than a month, meaning that we all needing to get into shape anyway. This gave me the opportunity to coerce all 11 of my students to run, sweat, and curse at the concept of exercise together with me. At first, they were all incredibly excited by the concept, we run, we laugh, we get fit. After a week, reality set in for me….”why did I eat so much in America, running is not fun, owwwwwwwwwwww I’m in pain….etc”, however the kids didn’t have any complaints at all. In fact, when I told them the first day we were only running 20 minutes they laughed and started to sprint away, until I warned them they would all be sore in the morning (HAHAHAHA, I won that battle, they could barely walk the next morning) and that we really needed to walk back to stretch.
My favorite running experience was the first 30 minute run with two of my favorite students, Jaffery and Andrew. We left right at the beginning of a graduation ceremony, so there were a lot of people in the street, and a lot of small children, none of whom had ever seen the white girl run before. Before we were out of the village limits, we had an army of barefooted, torn-shirted, shrieking children following us. At first it wasn’t that bad, there were giggles, the flap-flap of flip-flops slapping down on the dirt road, we just figured they would eventually turn around.
Wrong.
“Jaffery, tell the children to stop following you.”
“Ha, Madame they are not to be following me, just, they following you”
“No they aren’t, they’re in awe of your biceps…ask them yourself”
“Children, who are you following?”
“WE ARE FOLLOWING MIRINDA! MIRINDA IS RUNNING AND WE ARE FOLLOWING HER!”
“See I was tolding you”
“Ba!”
The next trick up our sleeve was to pick up the pace, but the boys soon realized that they would sooner lose me than lose all of the children, and they were kind enough not to let me face the screaming horde alone. There were some bright spots to having the children along. Typically the boys would veer off of the road and into the cashew fields to grab cashew fruit themselves, but now they had a small army of slaves within whom they had seniority. Children scatted to find the best fruits for Jaffery while others ran loyally at my side. We also never had to worry about a bike sneaking up on us…
“MIRINDA! BICIKELI!”
“BICIKELI! BICIKELI! MIRINDA, SEE THE BICIKELI!”
The only thing we truly worried about was one of our little soldiers taking a bicycle in the back for me, as they seemed well able to scream when one was coming, but not so adept at getting out of the way when one wizzed by. After saving the third tiny collarbone that couldn’t make it out of the way fast enough, Andrew turned around and told the children that he was just going to let them get run over…we saw it as a tough love approach. Luckily for the kids, we turned around at Mnaviera (the next village, a little under 5 K away) and began walking home, thus giving them more opportunities to search for fruit in the fields that lined the road, and stare at the huge sores that had welted up all over their feet as the result of running the entire way to Mnaviera bare-footed. The boys finally ditched me about 1K away from Makong’onda, slowly jogging so that villagers would think they had been jogging the entire time (posers). At this point I didn’t mind the abandonment, the children and I walked back hand in hand, sucking on the fruits they had brought from the bush and singing silly songs the whole way home.

On Being a Village Mama October 17th

Without Mamas, I’m positive that village life would be utterly impossible. Mamas are the true backbone of Tanzania. They care for the children, walk to their fields to plant crops, carry the water (waiting at the pump in the blazing sun for hours) for the entire household, hand wash the clothing for the entire household (including the soiled clothes that are used as diapers), feed the mouths of those who reside in or within the vicinity of their household, and they make time to visit one another while plaiting each others hair. It tires me just to write all of these chores, and while I sometimes manage to do all of these tasks in one day, it exhausts me to the point of wanting to lie in my bed and sleep for the rest of the week. I feel like I accomplish so much by doing these household chores, but really, doing all of the washing, sweeping, cooking, and gardening doesn’t help me teach the students, it doesn’t get their papers graded, or the library cleaned out, and it doesn’t help me with the various health projects I have started in the community. When I stop to think about it, the household chores are just a burden that keeps me from my actual work: but these chores ARE the ACTUAL WORK for every Mama in the vill. For this, I admire the strength and humor that each Mama brings to these tasks. Sometimes when they are feeling charitable, they allow me to come and help them with some of the more “white-person attainable” tasks. On the 17th of October, this included the cutting of firewood with Mama Semi and Semi.
There are dead trees everywhere in Makong’onda. Many of them are the direct result from the burning that farmers use to clean the dead brush off of their fields. What they don’t see (in the long term, and we NEVER see the long term here) is that they are not only killing the trees that add important soil nutrients and help prevent soil erosion, but as they leave their fields with burning piles in their wake, they don’t watch the wind blow the fire into the rest of the brush, thus starting the rain-starved cashew nut trees on fire, and thus ruining the field all together. To cut firewood, we set off for one of these desecrated fields, 2 machetes and an army of small children in hand.
When we arrived at the field, I received my first lesson in cutting the trees. Mama Semi lifted her machete, struck the branch in the same place 4 times in a row, and then pulled the tree to the ground. Once down, she up-ended the tree and neatly sliced every single small branch, leaving a clean, smart, and straight piece of wood. The entire process took less than a minute. Taking my machete and strutting to another tree, I decided that I was going to make this look every bit as easy as Mama Semi, who if, at 5 foot nothing and weighing barely 120 pounds, could make this look easy, then so could I. I was barely through the second strut to the tree before Mama Semi removed my machete and ran her finger over the blade, then showed me the finger. I looked at her and shrugged. She replied that there was no blood on her finger. Puzzled as to why that was a bad thing, I asked her why that was a bad thing. She said that the blade was not sharp enough. I amusedly pointed out that in the case I missed, at least we knew I wouldn’t completely chop my hand off. Smirking, and surrounded by the giggles of the girls, Mama Semi moved aside and allowed me to proceed.
My first chop in the wood was good, only about 1 cm deep, but low on the tree, a good start. My second chop was good too, about 1.5cm deep, and about 3 inches above the first mark. Now my third chop had a higher probability of going into one of those holes, because I had just doubled my targets. No such luck. In fact, by the end of the 7th chop, the bottom of the tree was merely filled with 7 small and distinct pock marks, its small branches trembling slightly after receiving each one, as if the tree was laughing at me with each stroke of my blade. At this point, I decided to take a more American approach, I wrapped my hands around the top and proceeded to shake the life out of the dead tree, encouraging it with colorful American metaphors to come “out of the damn ground”. At this point, Mama Semi was on the ground with the 4 girls, and all of them were convulsing with laughter, Mama Semi shaking so hard I would have assumed she was having a seizure had she not punctuated each shake with an ear splitting snort. After composing herself, Mama Semi apologized to the tree (TO THE TREE! HMMMPH!) and then with one fatal swing (that only would have worked with the help of my strategically placed small dent (just saying)) she felled the tree. She said she thought I was getting the hang of it though, and turned me loose with the army of small children while she went off to cut more trees on her own.
Semi and I proved to be an excellent team, and in less that 45 minutes, we had 19 tall trees, one of which I was able to fall in less than a minute and 10 of which I needed Semi to help me fall, at 12 years old, she is already far more proficient with a machete than I. We returned with our booty to the clearing where Mama Semi was tying all of her trees together. All together, we made a decent team, in 45 minutes, we both cut more than 18 trees (I cut 19, she cut 52). As we carried the loot back through the village (each young lady with a huge bundle of at least 15-20 a top her head, me with 7 in a hand-held bundle) the villagers hooted congratulations to me for surviving my first wood-chopping experience, and congratulations to Mama Semi, for surviving putting up with me.
Being a Mama is HARD work, REALLY HARD work.

Form Four Finale October 14th

After a stressful week of national examinations, late night cramming sessions under dull-glowing solar lamps and mid-day bean and flour stomach cramming sessions before afternoon tests, the good form four students of Makong’onda Day were ready for a little break. Actually, they were ready for a long break, as the end of their national examinations marked the end of their ordinary level school careers. Due to lack of rainfall, thus causing the lack of a cashew crop, the students were unable to pay for their graduation outfits and celebration this year, and thus it was concluded that there would be no celebration at all. Feeling the need for closure, I proposed that we have one final soccer match: Form Four students vs. the world, 5 dollars to the winner. The students agreed readily and on October 14th, the action went down.
Because this was an event of infinite importance (the pride of the Form 4 boys on the line, the rest of the school wanting to take them down), nearly the entire village turned out for the match. Before the game the traditional camp emerged, the form 4 boys crowding around the hut of one of their supporters and trying on the schools frayed jerseys and soccer shoes (though we all knew the soccer shoes would come off their feet not even 20 minutes into playing), singing, desecrating their old school uniforms with borrowed American Sharpies, and finally, marching together to the field, to the hoots and cheers of most of the village (the other half was still deluded into thinking the rest of the school stood a chance).
The game began, and with it followed the ever traditional smack talk. It is unclear to me at this point whether I enjoy soccer games for the love of the sport, or for the creativity with which the fans of one team insult the fans of the other team. The form four fan base, made up primarily of the boys who were not playing, began by singing, chanting, and synchronized dancing around the field – dancing into or through or on-top-of the other students’ fans. The other students retaliated with several dances and songs of their own, though they were rewarded for their efforts by the sounds of screaming as the form four students scored their first and second goals during the first quarter.
The second quarter should have marked a turning point for the other students, who, with help of one embarrassed teacher (who later insisted he wasn’t trying to help them as a coach but more or less give them a few tips on how to lose more gracefully), and with the help of two fresh additions to the team, should have been able to make the two goals to put them back to a tie. They were able to score one goal, which sent the form three students screaming, cartwheeling, and backflipping across the field, terrified babies strapped to the backs of the female students. Alas the game was considered over when the form four students were able to score the last goal (even though the person who scored was being guarded by two other players, the goal keeper in the goal), then it became a battle of the last man standing. By the very end of the match, two injured form four students had to be helped off the field, a league of form 2 boys screaming and launching themselves onto the field like a herd of crazed antelope at every fallen man to carry/drag them from the pitch.
As the whistle shrilled the form four boys began singing a song, beseeching me to give them their 5$ (because they had beaten the crap out of form 3…or something along those lines). Once in possession of the money, the person who held the money was hoisted to the shoulders of the other students, and bumped along the field, their song loud and probably reaching every corner of Makong’onda. The rest of the students couldn’t stay angry at the rambunctious form fours, after all, this was their official last game. Everyone joined into their ridiculous song, and most ended up callopsed on the ground, in fits of giggles, or exhaustion.
It was a finale to be remembered, and their loud singing, obnoxious jeers, and determined playing are how I will always remember the Makong’onda Class of 2009.

Library Update...the Second! October 1st

One of the huge points of Peace Corps is sustainability. This is often the point that crosses my mind the most as I do a project, as many of them would frankly just be unable to happen in my absence. With this in mind, its often hard to do a grant project, realizing that you are only reaching a select few people, who may or may not change their behaviors. Having learned this hard lesson, we none the less want to address the serious issue of teachers and learning resources at Makong’onda Day Secondary School. The children are here, they are willing to read, but where will they find the resources (especially if no-one is here to teach it to them). It is with the thoughts and goal of SUSTAINABILITY in mind that we start our new library at Makong’onda Secondary School.
After the discovery of all of the books, the building of the shelves, the screaming and complaining that accompanied the discovery of the rats, we realized that simply adding the new books into the library was not a wise decision. After all, how did the books come to be in the state they were in (the teachers placed all of the books in boxes in humid, festering, storage rooms because they didn’t want the students to steal/lose/read them), why were we missing a large number of books (the students AND the teachers stole many of the books), why hasn’t there ever been a library before now (no-one knew how to run/manage/build a library before now)? After a discussion with the student prefects and the headmaster we decided to select 3 student librarians along with several of the student prefects and do a training on how to manage/care for/ and maintain a library.
Our little seminar was attended by all of the student prefects and our three librarians on an early Saturday morning. Together we studied concepts that were easy, like “why is it necessary to have a library” and concepts that were more difficult, like alphabetization. I climbed up on my soapbox for a bit, telling each and every one of them that this library was “for the students, by the students”. We talked about ways to make the students AND teachers to care for the books, including paying a small fee (1 dollar) to use the library every year. We talked about making contracts for students to sign, saying that they would be willing to pay the price of a book should they lose it, and stating what library privileges they had. By the end of the session, I had some of the kids just and determined as me to see this library succeed, it was a promising start.
After I jumped down from the soapbox, I put them through “drills” in the library. I went in, destroyed one of the shelves (put books in backwards, upside down, in the wrong order, in the wrong subject) and then made the students put them back in the right order. I also took several of the files out of the filing cabinet and made each of them show me where to put it back (they got extra points if they could actually open the cabinet on the first try without help). By the end of the day, each of the students had gotten a grasp of book organization and had great ideas for meeting with the school administrators to ask for a little money for library books.
The entire seminar in my opinion was a great success, shown even more the next week when the three librarians punctually showed up at my house to take my keys and open the library to the students. With a small amount of guidance from me, and a lot of extra small trainings (this is why we don’t put the biology tests with the Kiswahili tests), we are starting to look like an organized outfit, and even the students are helping out, by returning their books on time and taking better care of the ones they borrow. Sustainability is what we are aiming for with the library, and I believe after 3 months of successful organization and implementation by the students, and another following 8 months of my “loose” supervision, we can realistically achieve it!

The Library Brigade! September 21st - October 2nd

The Library project is finally making big progress at the school as we finished the cleaning and sorting of the books, chased the rats out of the old book closets (the casual passerby would probably comment that the rats were chasing me….one shriek and sprint from an enclosed room and a dog-sized rodent and no-body ever lets you forget it…), we also had the carpenter outfit a small-lockable room with shelves for the books to be stored upon. After starting this project the 3 strong boys and 1 incredibly brave girl, who decided that their spring break would be best spent with their favorite teacher sorting through 3 years of disorganization and rat droppings, together we all realized that Makong’onda actually had a LOT of books. Our science subjects are the best stocked, followed closely by the number of French, Physical Education, and Home Economics (I’m not kidding, we really found these) books, and finally Finnish literature books. After we sorted through all of the books we tackled the magazines and the past exams. Each year the Form 2 and Form 4 students are required to take 2 national examinations. Our school started taking these in the year 2006, and thus we had stacks and stacks of tests that would require sorting and filing into our newly cleaned (but incredibly abused) filing cabinet. Our idea (which two of the students came up with on their own) was that all student resources, including the tests, should be kept in the library for easy access. When the filing was complete, each book was numbered and put into its correct position on the shelves, and then we did an inventory “wish list”.
We swept the library, took our final pictures, and locked the door. Andrew, one of the student helpers, followed me to our lunch and said “Mwalimu, we may not have any teachers, but we really do have the things we need to learn, for those who really work for it”.
“Andrew, you’ve always had the books, and I’m insulted that you said you don’t have any teachers”.
“You don’t count as teacher. We like you.”
“---”
Our book inventory revealed that there are no history, civics, geography, or English/African literature books in the library. This is one of the problems we are looking to remedy…stay tuned!

Bustani Bonanza...continued! September 29th

After a month of carefully watering the garden everyday, (and by carefully watering I mean scrounging to find said water, lugging it in buckets to the garden, and then carefully dumping it onto our sun baked soil with metal minnow bowls) we finally were able to start to take the fruits of our labors…or rather, vegetables of our labor. Every day since the month we planted we have been eating non-stop spinach, sweet potato leaves, and ochre. It took a lot of patience, chicken shooing, goat rock-throwing and water fetching, but everyday we have a variety of fresh foods to choose from, and that is truly wonderful. These pictures are of my house helper Joyce and Mustafa, both with things that have grown in our garden. The truly remarkable thing about our garden, is the street cred that I now have among my peers here in Makong’onda. Every day as mamas and babas are passing by on the path to go to their respective fields, they all stop and glance into my garden, “Mama Mirinda, your garden is so beautiful” or “Mama Mirinda, when are you going to give me some spinach?” or (the most popular) “Mama Mirinda, your garden is beautiful but you need to wear your khanga properly…your kneecaps are showing!”. A large number of Mamas expressed an interest in making their own garden, and so we are in the works of planning a garden-making/nutrition seminar for the Mamas of Makong’onda. Stay tuned for updates…on the seminar, and the state of my tomatoes…(THEY JUST STARTED FLOWERS!!!).