ANTS attack!

ANTS attack!

If there were one creature capable of taking over the world, it’d be, hands down, ants. There are some crazy ants here in Tanzania. Thankfully I haven’t experienced this firsthand, but a fellow PCV told me a specific kind of ant has eaten their way inside her house through the cement. They literally chewed through cement. That’s some extraterrestrial kind of ant right there. There are huge ants that bite, medium ants that bite, and small ants that bite. Pretty much they all suck. Normally, if an ant dies, the others cannibalize that ant. Literally, within 5 minutes there is a swarm of ants consuming their fallen comrade. And then they attack you. They’re never satisfied I tell ya.

I went over to my neighbor’s house (the one I call my Tanzanian Mama), and naturally she made me sit down to eat lunch. I hung out for a bit chatting and solidifying her journey to Morogoro as my Counterpart, and her kids busted out the charcoal stove. We roasted corn over charcoal and it made me miss home. One of the things I appreciate about Tanzanians is that they are always so curious. If I were a Tanzanian and I had an American girl living in my village I’d ask her a billion questions too. I had a fun time explaining that in the U.S., we too use charcoal to roast (grill) corn. I explained that our charcoal stoves are higher off the ground and we are able to stand as we cook. This brought about a few gasps. The idea of cooking standing up was a bit difficult to understand. I also told them that we boil the corn before we roast it on the charcoal, and that we put butter and salt on it after it’s finished. They simply place it on a grate over the charcoal and once it’s cooked, they eat it. It’s surprisingly tasty.

Is rainy season over yet?

I know rain is imperative for life, but I need a little sunshine! The rainy season is from November until April/May. In my region during this time it rains EVERY day. Since I have a tin roof, it sounds like a stampede of wildebeests above me. I have a routine for when it rains. First I make sure I tuck the sheet acting as a curtain in my bedroom into the bars so it doesn’t rain all over my bed. Next I make sure there’s a basin next to my couch because my roof leaks from only this one spot. Then I plug up my back door because if it rains hard enough, there will be a mini river in my kitchen. Let me clarify a few things, I don’t hate the rain, it’s just annoying sometimes. Like when it’s pouring and I want to wash my dishes because it’s getting dark and I don’t want to give the rats more of a reason to enter my home. Or when I’m trying to read some resources from Peace Corps and it’s so loud I can’t hear myself think. However, I do appreciate the fact that at night when it rains, I can’t hear any of the creatures outside or inside my house. Just the rain.

Sista, Sista, Sista

Have you ever gotten tapped repeatedly on the forehead until you acknowledged the fact that they wanted to get your attention? Me either, but! One of my travel buddies, Steph, has. We were standing on a packed bus, and, naturally, there’s nowhere to go. A very rude (which isn’t typical) Tanzanian, started tapping Steph’s forehead as if it was the most normal occurrence in the world. The look on her face said it all. I gently put my arm around her and boxed the Tanzanian out of our lives. Tapping someone’s forehead repeatedly saying “sista, sista, sista” is really very unacceptable. Haha.

So when I go into town to get food or travel, I get on the one and only dala (minibus) that comes through my village at anywhere between 6:30am and 8am. I like and dislike this. I dislike this because there is only one dala and it’s usually standing-in-the-doorway-room only. However, I like the fact that the driver and kondas (helpers) all know me and help me out. Right away we exchange the usual greetings and then they take my backpack (if it’s packed full) and put it in the front seat so I can squeeze myself into the doorway. They take care of me. They make sure I’m in the right place, and if I’m traveling further, they make sure I get on the right bus. In general, Tanzanian’s are extremely helpful. They will drop everything just to walk you to the correct spot for the bus, an unfamiliar guesti, or the shop that sells garlic.

Also, I find it baffling that no matter if you have a seat, are standing, holding a child on your lap, or have an armpit in your face; the price for the bus ticket is the same for everyone. Hmm.

One simple request.

Dear daladala drivers,

Please turn down the Tanzanian radio station. It’s already hard enough to hear my own thoughts over the rattling of the windows that may or may not break at any point in time.

Sincerely,

Mzungu