Money, money, money

The other day I walked back from town. I’ve gotten sick of waiting for the lorrie (open-topped truck) to be an hour late and packed to capacity, so I was looking forward to the hour and a half walk. Sure, I’d have to greet people along the way, but at least I had a destination and could keep walking. About 20 minutes into the walk, a guy already walking in the same direction asked me where I was going. I said the name of my village and he somehow decided he’d like to walk with me. Now, I wasn’t really in the mood to make Kiswahili small talk, and made it a point to slow down or speed up to try to lose him. If I stopped to pretend to rifle through my backpack, he’d shuffle along, clearly waiting for me; if I tried to pass him, he’d walk at a very un-Tanzanian fast pace to try to keep up with me. Needless to say, it was very frustrating. So, I’m about to turn down the path to my house and I say, “have a nice day” to be polite. He looks at me and says, “Where’s my money? I walked you here, and I’m tired.” I was stunned. I spent over an hour trying my hardest to lost this guy in transit, and he wants money?! I looked at him, and repeated three times each with more surprise and disgust, “You want money? You want money?! You want MONEY?!” I laughed, said a very sarcastic (which is lost on all Tanzanians), “Sorry mister,” and walked away.

The very next day, I went to the little market in my village. I was so excited to see bananas! I had just bought a few, and I hadnt even left the table and a guy comes up to me and asks me if he can have a banana. I thought, how rude. So, I, probably still annoyed from the day before, told him very politely that we were still at the table, so he could buy his own.

Also in the same day, I heard the name of the previous volunteer being shouted at me multiple times in a row. I stopped, turned around, and saw a mama coming toward me. I immediately recognized her as the mama that has, more often than not, usually been drinking. She didn’t even greet me and immediately patted her stomach and asked me for money for chai. This was the third time in two days that I’ve been tracked down and asked for money in my village. This, more likely than not, only happens in town. Now, first of all, I’ve told this mama my name at least five times, and she can’t even try to remember. Second of all, don’t scream my name across the whole village. And lastly, I don’t get a salary, you can’t have my bananas, and I can walk by myself!!!!!

Kama kawaida

For the past week, I’ve been helping my mama and her family husk the corn they’ve harvested. Since the rainy season is basically over, it’s time to start the harvesting process. The villagers mostly farm corn, and I’ll explain why. So, what they do is harvest the corn, and then get all the kernels off the husk one by one. Next they lay them out in the sun to dry. After this, they take them to a mill to get ground up into flour. The end product is thus, corn flour. This is the staple of their diet. Corn flour is what they mix water with to make ugali, a semi-hard blob they serve with either beans or cassava leaves. You should really google ugali, it’s good stuff (not). But, I’ve grown accustomed to eating ugali, because, that’s their diet. It’s really a pure process, the villages grow (or so is the plan depending on the rains during rainy season) all the food they need to sustain them throughout the dry season. Most if not all of the Tanzanians in my entire region have not and will never experience the chaos of what is a grocery store. It’s simple really, they have figured out how to grow exactly what they need to survive.

Apparently the next fruit in season is oranges. I have yet to see a plethora of oranges, but I’m hopeful. So, the major fruits of the seasons are: mango (Dec-Jan), orange (April-May), pineapple (July-August), then mango again. Bananas, and papayas are kind of always off and on throughout the year. I think it’ll be really cool when I experience mango season again, because that’ll mean I’ve been here for a year J

Hold your applause please, but I’ve been rat-free for 3 months! Knock on wood for me will ya?

Although the dry season doesn’t have much to offer, one blessing I can think of is that the sun is more reliable. Using my solar charger (thanks Jonathan!), the sun has now consistently charged my phone, iPod, and kindle. Thanks sun!

Things are steady but slow here in the village. I can see that getting things started will take some extra effort and persistence on my part. Yesterday, however, while I was doing my walk around the village to see if anything was happening, I stumbled upon a meeting. This meeting was being conducted by a Health Institute based in Mtwara. They are part of a group called “Mtunze mtoto mchanga” (caring for newborns). I was thrilled! This group of about 7 women and 4 men are all volunteers who were getting more training on going to house to house to assess the progress of newborns. The trainers got my contact information and I’m hoping to become more involved with their organization. Apparently they’re coming back in June and I’m definitely going.

Seat belts? Are we in 'Merica?

I appreciated the pushy young Tanzanian woman next to me on the bus telling me to put my seatbelt on every time I sat back down in my seat. First of all, I was baffled at the fact that there were seat belts on any bus, let alone this particular one. At this moment in time, I was so thankful for that strap across my lap, and the mama that kept making sure I put it on, because we were winding through the mountains as if the speedometer wasn’t working (which, it very well may not have). Mostly, speedometers are of no importance here in Tanzania. Although, it is somewhat of a non-issue, because most of the roads are too crappy to speed down anyway.

The Mtwara crew (me, plus three others in my class) traveled to Iringa after our IST. Iringa was nothing really too special, except that it was surrounded by mountains. There was the normal safi (good) food there, pizza, ice cream, burgers, etc. At sunset, a few of us went on a hike up “Pride Rock” in the rain to an outlook that overlooked the entire city. One highlight: on the ride to and from Dar-Iringa, the bus goes right through Mikumi National Park. I saw giraffes, elephants, antelope, water buffalo, and baboons!! It was awesome! We were going way too fast to see anything up close, but it was still cool. The elephants were my favorite, standing in a group of five, swinging their trunks to-and-fro. The giraffes were super close to the road and eating the leaves from the highest branches of a tree. Their height was immense! Even though I’ve seen me some African animals, I’m still hungry for more. I do need to go on some sort of safari... Takers anyone?

Today, we just got a room at our normal guesti after enduring the bumpy bus ride from Dar to Masasi in the dirty south. Today wasn’t actually too bad. First of all, the fact that we got to book our own seats made a world of difference. We sat near the front, had a bit more shoulder room, and didn’t get nearly as much air on the big bumps as before. Also, we didn’t get stuck in the mud or a flat tire. We arrived for our five minute break at the “lunch” spot (a few stands of fried food and bananas), a good three hours earlier than on our first trip. Today our ride only took nine hours as opposed to the 15 our first time. No complaints here!

At training one of the older volunteers, Lisa, mentioned with a smirk that Peace Corps is like camping. Every day, all day. She’s exactly right. Good thing I love camping! I, daily, need to: use some sort of pit latrine, bring soap and toilet paper to the bathrooms, wear sandals in the shower, pretend that it hasn’t been five days since I’ve last showered, and sleep on a semi-uncomfortable surface.

At the lesser expensive, not-so-creepy guesti we stay at in Dar (the YMCA), it’s always a gamble as to whether or not the water is working. Normally, being dirty for one more day/night isn’t a big deal, but when you’ve been on a bus all day long, you kind of want to rinse off the grime. However, it’s not so bad once you train your mind not to care so much and to go with the flow. So much of living here is being flexible, which I’m learning, slowly but surely.

In-Service Training (IST)

We just finished our IST. This is a two-week training Peace Corps gives us after the first three months at our respective sites. So, we haven’t seen anyone else in our class since we left for site. It was great to be reunited with everyone once again. It got a bit overwhelming at times. When I’m used to being alone in my village with Tanzanians, it’s a bit different when you put 41 Americans in one place for two full weeks. There were places we could get “real” food at too. I’ve had a couple “beef burgers with cheese”, some pizza, and some mac n cheese!  It was great to eat something other than rice and beans. But that can get expensive. Good thing I’m great at being thrifty.

The training was more worth it than not. Hah. The information was helpful and we got a lot of great resources, but there was one thing I would definitely change. No one was held accountable for coming to classes. Sometimes only half our class would be at sessions. It’s just disrespectful and irresponsible. And I would have liked to sleep in more too, but I got out of bed. But, at least I went to classes and paid attention; all I can be accountable for is myself. We got a crap ton of books and manuals to schlep back to our sites too. I, however, had heard we accumulate a bunch of things, so I packed light in the first place.

It’s been difficult to say goodbye to people again. It doesn’t help that all the people I’m close to are in the furthest regions. We just never know when we’ll see our close friends again. But, the Mtwara crew (me and three others) took some vacation days to travel around in Iringa a bit before going back down to Mtwara. We figured we’d get the most out of our journey to the Dar area before going back down for who knows how long.

After talking with my fellow PCVs, I’ve learned that each and every site is completely different. I found out that Mtwara (my region) has the highest food prices. Even the tomatoes are more expensive down here. Also, the availability of food in Mtwara proves difficult. Other regions are rich in avocadoes, and certain other fruits and vegetables that are either absent or really expensive in Mtwara. It made me a little discouraged, but that just means I have to be that much more conscious of what I spend my money on and which food I buy.

I was talking with a guy Andrew in my class, and after we got done comparing our sites he said he thinks Peace Corps puts the strongest volunteers in Mtwara. It was a little pick-me-up moment. I’m not sure why they pick people to go to certain regions, but a lot of things about Mtwara seem a bit more difficult than other regions. Don’t get me wrong, all the roads in Tanzania need work, and food is a problem for everyone here in one way or another. We’re all managing with what we’ve got, which is all we can do.

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