Writing this blog today is giving me an opportunity to procrastinate on writing my med school personal statement. I think writing something to sell myself as a person and future doctor is literally my definition of living hell. I can’t think of a more painful experience. Oh wait I can getting hit on at the bus stop every single day. I guess it puts things in perspective. Sorry there are no pictures. I went to the internet cafe and there is no internet which makes me feel a little lied too, but doesn’t leave me terribly surprised.
Now for my weekend which I know you are all waiting with baited breath to hear about. Saturday I got up went outside and went back to bed. When I got back up the kids were up watching cartoons so I got to eat breakfast and watch weird Australian (?) cartoons about a dog known as Diggsly who can dig wherever he wants to go and has adventures. He also has a propellor tail when it is convenient and a cousin named Swimmsly who swims a lot and can also talk. He drags around his master a little girl who doesn’t seem at all concerned that he keeps putting holes in the living room floor to go to the Outback or Antartica. (Although as you learn you can dig back from Antartica but not too Antartica.)
Confused yet?
After breakfast with Gianna and Giovani (Gian went to school) I headed out as soon as Abel got up. I think he was a little surprised to see me in his living room with his kids watching cartoons and drinking tea because he came out without a shirt on and definitely did a double take at me. I mean it doesn’t take much of a double take to realize that I am not one of his Tanzanian children. He greeted me in a mixture of Swahili and English that hurts my brain–I’m learning I don’t switch back and forth very easily and when I get confused I blurt out English in a way that doesn’t even make sense to me. I think if I ever do come back to Tanzania I will study Swahili much more first instead of whatever unimportant thing I was studying this time–oh emergency medicine. Not life and death at all.
Something that just made my day was running into my favorite Alto from choir–I don’t know her name or anyones really and I feel bad about this but she was very friendly. After the pleasantry’s she said something in rapid fire Swahili–which I in Swahili, at least, said Okay too and then walked off realizing only afterward that I had no idea what she’d said. I think it had to do with mass on Sunday and I hope I didn’t agree to anything horrible but she was smiling the whole time so I feel okay about it. This made my day as it is truly wonderful in a small town to be greeted by someone you know and who knows you. It makes you feel a little bit more part of the community.
I sucessfully got on a bus and had my own seat. Unfortunately I got onto the wrong bus–which doesn’t mean I went somewhere I wasn’t planning to it meant I was on the slow bus as there is one road–making it hard to screw up that badly. How the slow bus works is it slows down by every person walking along the road and the money collector whistles at them to see if they want a ride. It’s not a very efficient way of getting anywhere but in USD it’s about a 10 cent bus ride–which should become a rap song. I nearly missed my stop and had a hard time getting off the bus to the extent which I fell over my seat which makes a great impression to the Tanzanians. No I wasn’t drunk at 10 O’clock in the morning I’m just clumsy.
Tengeru was a zoo. It was the weekly big market which I was dumped into the middle off. My immediate priority was getting out of range of the motorcyclists trying to get me to hitch a ride with them so I went into the market without checking to see if it was the direction I even wanted to go. I wish I had taken pictures. Not that you guys would get to see them but it was really cool. There were people everywhere! The vendors had blankets and umbrellas set up and then their goods laid out across the blanket. It was an interesting juxtoposition of the old and the new. There were vendors selling stacks of toothpaste next to vendors selling tomatoes. I don’t even know how you would decide which produce you wanted to buy because there were that many options. Something in particular that was interesting was the selling of shoes and clothing. The shoes were all just in a pile and you could dig through them in the hopes of finding a pair and also a set you liked. The t-shirts were much the same. There were legume sellers who were sometimes in the process of drying their beans and you could smell it throughout the market. There were also people selling meat and charcoal and mixed in with all this vendors serving fresh food, and as in all busy places small children wandering around. Belive it or not there were also more of those freaking motorcycle men. Honestly I don’t think they have anything better to do then harrass white woman or probably just woman in general. There weren’t clear aisles so you just kind of wandered around the market till you found what you wanted.
Once I finally found my way out of the market which was a feat in of itself I got myself on track to going to the lake. Lake Dluti was my goal for the day. Supposedly you were supposed to be able to hike around it and see lots of birds which sounded like a good activity for me. I found the road and was in the process of greeting a lot of small children who in Tanzania all love to try out their English when I was accosted.
“Are you going to the Lake?” I turned and it was a boy who looked to be about 15 or 16-not intimidating.
“Yes?”
“Do you have tour booked?”
“Umm no?”
“Well, lucky for you I am a lake guide let me show you the way.”
All of this was said as I continued to walk towards the lake and I interiorly resigned myself to being murdered in the woods which I was now walking in by a sixteen year old or alternatively being charged an exorbinant amount of money.
The jungle in Tanzania is really beautiful and everything I hoped it would be. Derick, the Tanzanian, also turned out to be very friendly. He kept his distance, didn’t once ask if I was married and instead wanted to talk about music and snow which I’ve found is a topic that fascinates Tanzanians. I’m actually very glad that he came up to me because I would have had no idea where to go once I’d reached the lake. There were no other tourists there as I am in Tanzania during the off season because people don’t want to go on vacation and get rained on the entire time they are there–you taking notes Dad/Fr. Semple?
He led me to a dock talked to me about the lake which is a crater lake and a protected area. The water which appears very green is actually very very clean and for this reason no one is allowed to swim in it. The whole idea of you can look but you cannot touch.
“So Carol,” That’s usually what my name turns into, “You want to go for a boat ride?”
“Pesa Ngapi?” (How much–another Swahili term I know–but I don’t know my numbers very well in Swahili so I’m not positive its the most useful thing to say)
“20 USD”
“Alright why not.” I did want to see the lake. What I wasn’t expecting was (A) I didn’t have to do any of the paddling and (B) my guide new everything about the plants and animals that we encountered. I think I was more surprised about not having to do the paddling I just had to sit and enjoy the lake–which is the reason I wanted to upload pictures because it was stunning. I saw my first Iguana and there was a troup of monkeys engaged in death defying stunts in the trees by the water. Furthermore, there were more birds than I could count in all sorts of colors. They had no fear of us and we could get very close. We went under fig trees and bamboo and through paper reeds. It was really cool. Whenever Derick saw I was interested in something he stopped and just let me look at it. We watched the monekys for about 20 minutes and even saw a baby monkey. (No I don’t have any pictures they were too far away)
To complete the experience there was a nearby prayer mountain. There are some mountains in Tanzania where people believe God can hear you better if you pray from on top of it. So complete with the bird songs and monkeys there was a man screaming lamentations and prayers in Swahili which was echoing around the lake. Later there were songs of rejoicing so I hope his prayers were answered cause they sounded pretty serious. I’m pretty sure it’s a pagan thing but I don’t know because I’m sure I heard Jesus Christ thrown in there.
After this died down Derick asked if he could play some music. So Bob Marley–who is Dericks favorite artist replaced the prayers. “Everything is going to be alright.” It was pretty great to listen to that song on a lake in Tanzania looking at birds and gliding through the rushes.
After the boat ride at the dock Derick challenged me to Checkers which he said he wasn’t very good at and then beat me three times so either he was lying or I am really really really bad. I think it’s probably a little bit of both. And then he walked me back to the bus station and told me if I wanted to do something next week that I had his number. So depending on my week I may be going on a bicycle ride to a waterfall unless I decide to do something crazier or die of heat stroke.
I was feeling better about the men in Tanzania when I got to the bus station where can you guess what happened? I got accosted. I had a man hanging off me yelling “I love you, you are beautiful,” into my ear and then. “Don’t you speak English I’m telling you I love you.” I did what any sensible person would do and jumped into the next available bus which was the right one. There were no seats so I ended up sitting on the center counsol which was a new and exciting place to be. I could see all the sketchy driving that our bus driver was doing. I did nearly get in the middle of a fist fight though… Someone in the back of the bus decided that the bus driver had wronged him in some way and so stood up shouted, raised his fists, and was making his way to the front of the bus. The money collectors headed him off and I think paid him something then everything continued as normal–me and my first world problems I’m going to need therapy to ever get on a bus again once I get back to the states.
That afternoon was for washing, cleaning, and my favorite napping and reading. I was reinstated as chief grater after five year old Giovanni failed miserably at grating tomatoes and nearly started crying over it. What I love about Giovanni is he is incredibly expressive. He shows his emotions completely and utterly and doesn’t hold back. Remember when he cried last week because his syblings told him he was bought at a super market? That’s how it always it.
After dinner Gian challenged me to Checkers which I will have you know I can beat a twelve year old at. After I beat him three times Giovanni wanted to have a go. Gian has a bit of an ego and I love watching Giovanni win so I intentionally played terribly so (A) Gian now thinks Giovanni is better at Checkers and (B) Giovanni did the most wonderful victory dance that consisted of running around the living room and jumping up and down. I taught the kids how to play tic-tac-toe and I think in a few days they will definitely get it–then just as I was about to go to bed Abel challenged me to a game of Checkers which I lost soundly at reminding me in fact that while I can beat children at this game I am still terrible at it. Ah well it’s this and Uno so I’m bound to get good at one of them.
This morning I got up and prepared for choir. I had sung all the songs I knew them. I could fumble my way through them? Oh boy...here goes nothing. I got to walk to mass in the predawn morning and it was really wonderful. The only other people that were out were other mass goers–no motorcyclists yay! It had rained the night before so I nearly ate it on my way to mass which would have been awful but we persevere.
One of the choir church ladies found me praying in the back of the church and dragged me up front so I couldn’t help but be noticed and also so that she could direct me the entire time which was helpful.
That’s when my troubles started and also the three hour mass which I enjoyed but was a little lost during. You see the choir memorizes there pieces so didn’t have the songs. Uh-Oh. Also the choir has more music that we didn’t learn and I just had to guess at. And thirdly there were coordinated steps to each of the songs–different mind you and in some of the songs like the Hosanna hand movements, clapping, and waving. I may have been fumbling but I had the time of my life. (I don’t think I should sing next weekend when the president is there though) The woman who was directing me would nudge me and get me to move and dance more and kept smiling and laughing. It was one of the most joyful massess I have ever been too. I also learned that the woman yip and yell whenever their joy just can’t be contained any more which wouldn’t work in like the Cathedral in Helena but works so well here. The background music is on the synthesizer and honestly I couldn’t help but smile even as I was tripping over my feat, trying to remember the songs, and trying to watch the conductor who was different people at different times.
I’m sure the homily was great–lots of Amening and laughter. I got mentioned too but that’s about the only part of the homily I understood and I only understood it because he came and pointed at me and said something about the Mzungo. I think it was probably aboud sheparding considering that it is good Shepard weekend. After everyone had gone to communion a chicken walked down the center aisle–which I guess he just wanted Jesus. This was extremely entertaining to me. What was even better is there was a greeter following him. He made a lunge and the chicken flew on top of a lady who was knelt in prayer. Did she do anything? No. She just kept praying. The chicken was successfully chased out of the church in case you were wondering.
After mass but before the final blessings there were a series of catachesis and extra money collecting for something I’m not sure what–probably the new church they want to build but I don’t know why there were three. I was hit up for money and so now I have to do my due diligence and turn in an envelope next weekend.
Just when I thought mass was over because the next mass was supposed to have started one minute ago they started their fundraising efforts. You know how in the U.S. we bring in raffle tickets? Well they cut to the chase and bring in literal livestock and produce. I kid you not three ladies walked in with live roosters. A man walked in leading a goat. And people came in with eggs and beans. Then the fundraising started. The first rooster was paraded around and bought and donated to the priest. He handed him to the altar boy and in the middle of the second rooster auction there was a squawk of triumph and over the alter flew the rooster. He didn’t make it very far as the greeter now experienced at chicken wrangling plucked him out of the air and tied him up more thouroughly then handed him to the altar boy. After the second rooster got lose from the second altar boy–this one didn’t make it very far the boys were sent to the sacristy with the chickens.
The auctioning done we did the final song which did I mention included a dance and procession on the part of the choir. Which I fumbled to learn the steps too yet again. I also got in the wrong column and processed with the men instead. We circled up outside and sang through the song a few more times and that is the mass.
Then after my three hour mass I had breakfast at the house and read my book on the porch. I had the saddest thing on the planet happen. When I went to poor hot water into my coffee ginger tea came out instead and so instead of coffee I had ginger tea :(. Ah well I am at a coffee shop now so it works out.
Then I took an excellent sunday morning nap and dreamed of chickens–then I got up and told the first person I could think of about my excellent joyful mass experience. You are welcome Chris now you too can think about chickens flying over altars while you live a sophisticated Italian life. As my fake husband it is right that you know first when something miraculous like this happens.
After this I decided to head to the No Wifi Wifi cafe. The barrista (but I a guy so barristo?) made me practice my Swahili which was good. It was a very modern place compared to a lot of Leganga so it wasn’t surprising that I ran into other Americans. I ran into a very excited guy from Chicago who was complaining about how hard Swahili is and working on a woman’s education project. “I got Asante down pat, but that’s about it.” It made me feel a little better because he’s African American and at least me being white the people don’t expect much if any Swahili out of me.
I got some personal statement writing done and then some of the blog which I am now finishing Monday night. I was supposed to meet the choir director for a walk but he was running late so I started walking around. I ran into a motorcycle man who was very friendly several times, a man who yelled, “come here beautiful let me f– you” (Very attractive) and the energy drink man who I ran into like twice. He didn’t speak any English, my Swahili is limited, but can I tell you he was determined to sell me an energy drink.
“Moja, moja” He would say emphatically, “Samahani.” (One, one please!)
“Hapana, Nina maji” (No, I have water)
Then he would go off in rapid fire Swahili with several hand gestures about how delicious it would be.
My excellent response shaking my head and going “Hapana hapana, Nina Maji” This happened for like five minutes before on both occasions I pushed past him and said, “Hapana, asante, Kwaheri” (No, thanks, goodbye.)
Finally, I met with the choir director who immediately steered me into a bar. (Uh-oh)
We did get to talk about music but he also sat uncomfortably close to me and kept touching my shoulder and hovering his hand above my thigh. Weird vibes a little bit. We were watching his favorite football team play and shared a plate of food. (Jonathan if you did this I would slap you) I did learn about more about the school system and teaching and also education system which was cool 1 USD=2500 Tanzanian Shilling for the record and food is remarkably cheap here.
Then came the “It’s so hard to find a good God-fearing fellow musician.”
Hmmm I’ve heard this one before.
“So my dear, what has been the hardest thing about being in Tanzania?”
“The motorcycle men they keep going off and being attracted to me and it’s uncomfortable.”
“Ah my dear, the men here when they are uneducated and passionate. Say for example I wanted to sleep with you. (Weird thing to say) because you are beautiful and the only one I can see. And I think ah she is the one if I could sleep with her than everything else will fall into place forever. She is the only one. So the men they are complementing you my dear.”
“Ah.”
“So just say thank you brother and keep walking. Say I love you too and keep walking.”
I do not intend to do any of that.
“So tell me my dear are you engaged?” Well this is the end of my short Tanzanian Choir carreer right here.
“Yes!” I whipped out my phone and showed him pictures of Chris.
“Ah and is he American?” Choir director looked a little unimpressed.
“Yes and he’s studying in Rome music and theology and I love him very very much.”
“Ah…my dear you do not mind if I call a friend and tell him to come watch the game with us do you?”
“It’s getting dark.”
“Do not worry we will escort you.”
“Okay.”
The choir director than moved his chair away from me and ordered another beer. (Thank you Christopher I owe you dinner or something or like a life debt)
We then watched the game which went into overtime and then all the way to penalty kicks and I had to wait for him to finish so he could walk me home because it wasn’t safe for me to go at night. My thought process I might get murdered in a back alley by Catholic choir directors–which is an unexpected end.
And you know what when we left we did go down a dark alley! But the choir director having sobered up was back to being respectful and told me not to be afraid that he would walk me home safely. And he did. I still kind of got the ick though maybe he was just effusively friendly but he did also send me pictures of himself and tell me to show them to my parents in case things don’t work out with Chris I guess.
This morning I found out from my hosts that he has a wife and kid which he did not mention at all. At any point. Like even a mention. Which even if he wasn’t putting the advances on me the fact that he spent all of Sunday evening at the bar with a woman that isn’t his wife? Hmm suspicious. Like what was his wife and kid doing just existing at home while he’s out drinking? Honestly, hate men except Derick he was a good tour guide.
Today has been a slow day. I made a go fund me for the foundation which I’ll put the link down below. And when I came home from work I didn’t have choir to go to so I just came home and sat on the back porch and pondered life which is probably good to do sometimes. On the bus ride I’d got horribly sick because the bus people thought it was a great idea to put like fifty people on the bus and then not open the windows. The bus drivers today both times didn’t give me my change so I have to figure out how to combat that one. Maybe I’ll just throw hands like the guy did either day.
Cute kid stories…Oseam’s getting more verbal with each day–he could tell me what a spoon, plate, jug, and glass was and yes when we told him he did a good job he did jump into the matressess. When the kids get tired they ask to go to Zuzu which I just love that term for a nap and will be adopting it. The kids were learning kitchen objects today and a little more about fruits and vegetables. I think by the end of today they understand what a blueberry is which is good for me and means I’m doing my job okay. They still don’t know what a Cherry is, except Oseam, which I’m not really sure it matters if they do because I don’t think they have them in Africa.
Other thoughts and feelings. It is really interesting with Oseam who is autistic he is extremely picky about foods. Doing some research the best solution is to offer him choices and options with eating and in an environment like this this simply isn’t possible. So how do you take care of a kid like this in this situation?
My Swahili isn’t as good as I thought it was getting (who am I kidding I knew it wasn’t improving much.) We were watching the news and there was flooding in Arusha. Two minutes later I thought they were still talking about the story and was really confused why they were showing boxes of weed and cocaine. My brain instead of going they’ve switched topics went–what kind of relief are they offering? They gave me a college degree.
That’s it for today–I really didn’t do much–which it was probably good after the events of this weekend. Here is the link for the GoFundMe-
Song of the Post-My Life TI (Oseam and I were listening to music at work today.)
Quote of the Post-”My teacher (The Choir Director) today said that you studied in Rome–did you tell him I was the best student?” Gian
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