Stargazy
30/5/2008
I had it all planned - today I'd write about having my hair braided (or rather "bradded"). I'd have before and after pics, and ponder the next great development in my hair. But having spent the last hour or so doing what I've been doing, I suddenly find it very hard to care about hairstyles.
I think it's probably impossible for any vaguely switched on individual to stare at the stars for long without being first simply astounded, and then existentially humbled. Here, where light pollution is a completely alien concept, those effects are magnified many times. I even saw (or was confident I saw) a shooting star for the first time. Or rather, 3 or 4. I'm feeling real magic at the moment, which it would be impossible to adequately describe. Why, tho, did I come to Africa before I discovered the sky?
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
The worst laid plans
29/5/2008
Are possibly even more likely to gang agley. Tomorrow is Fi's last night, so some sort of Yamba-based party is in the pipeline. As I understand it, the deal was that we'd therefore set tonight aside as Mili night, especially since Flo is currently in a pretty bad state, so they couldn't come up. The 8 Yamba residents were supposed to head down tonight.
It must be stressed that this was never going to work - the car wasn't going so we'd have to walk (about 2 hours if you can find someone who knows the way). We couldn't leave much before 5:30 so it would be dark long before we made it down. Fi & I both have commitments early tomorrow morning, and there's 1 spare bed in Mili anyway, so we'd have to come back again that night. In the end it was reluctantly agreed that we wouldn't be able to go, and I thought that would be the end of it.
Not so fast! Word reached us that the Mili girls had put together a big meal, and would be simply heartbroken without us. Will & Fi then half-jokingly suggested that the two of them, and anyone else who wanted to, might walk down anyway. We immediately recognised it was a stupid idea (apart from anything else, none of us knows the way), but it was a particularly appealing stupid idea. Somehow, a little while later, Will, Fi & I were on our way, with a kind of 'fuck it, this is Africa and you're only young once' in our hearts.
"This is a really dumb idea, isn't it?"
"Oh yes"
"We're gonna spend the night lost, cold and with at least 1 broken leg between us"
"Oh yes"
(repeat at 5 minute intervals). In the end perhaps it was a good thing that we came past the two Johns and Edmundi on the way down, who persuaded us not to go. You'll certainly get no argument from me that it was a wise plan, but I think the stupidity of it was part of the appeal. Anyway, when all's said and done we didn't go, so I'm not spending the night cold, lost and broken. And I'll be ready to get up and wash my underwear tomorrow. Hurrah!
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Cabin Fever
28/5/2008
It can be that the most dreary of days fire off the best response. That hope wasn't high in my mind as I watched the rain pouring down this afternoon, heavier than I'd yet seen it in Yamba.
But supper was marked by a great release of pent-up energy. If I say that it started off with dancing to mid-90s club hits with the house girls, and descended from there, that probably gives you a good impression. So it's another late, late night for me, in this non-stop party town. It's still raining now. Just thought you'd like to know.
Looking back on the evening my heart goes out rather to the two approaching newbies - it's a pretty bizarre group dynamic they'll have to break into. (Natalie, a secondary school teacher who'll eventually be working in Mili, is apparently already in the village. If she's unlucky she might even be tomorrow's subject. Then on Saturday we discard Fi wantonly, and a new builder arrives: his name's Roger, he's from Norway, and he's signed up to work here for... 11 months. Surely a fugitive from the law.)
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Only in Africa
27/5/2008
It can't be a very common experience for a European to take a machete into the bush to hunt for scaffolding poles. Just another thing that I can tick off, another experience closer to Enlightenment ;-)
However, I wont spend long discussing that tonight: we've been chatting to Caroline about life, the universe and everything and it's now past 11. In a village which follows daylight hours so closely, that's perhaps roughly equivalent to 2am, and I've got to be up at 6.15 tomorrow for work. Night boys and girls.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Chiluns
26/5/2008
Up at Mzizma we collectively own a growing tribe of tortoises - a few sets of volunteers ago someone bought one as a pet, and we're up to at least 5 now. Over the last few weeks we've been trying to make sure the collection doesn't grow any further, since it's all getting rather out of hand, while avoiding offending would-be gift-givers. Today there appeared a small, rather frightened albino rabbit, and the feeling of the meeting was that, offence or no, we had to draw the line. It really wouldn't be a practical proposition for us to keep a rabbit out here.
This set me to thinking, though. If we can't keep anything more than a tortoise as a pet, how much more impractical and unaffordable a dream must it be for any of the local kids. It brings to mind a conversation I had with Carol a week or two back - a few small people were chasing past us on the path, shouting and laughing, and Carol noted that "they almost sound like children". In a village where it's not unusual for 8-year-olds to find themselves caring for baby siblings, moments like that are a great deal rarer than they ought to be. Even for those with 2 fully-functioning parents, growing up is a swift process.
Perhaps the situation isn't as bleak as all that - I've said before that most evenings there are a dozen kids or more playing in the Mzizma garden. But that thought only serves to make me realise another uncomfortable truth: maybe they're not just up here because they love hanging out with us. Maybe it's because we're the only ones who've got any toys they can play with. And maybe in a few weeks I'll stop walking around with my eyes half shut.
But from somewhere, in all of this, there emerged nine-year-old Francis, who wanted to give us his rabbit.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
It's good to be home
25/5/2008
Most of the weekend in Lushoto was characterised by grumbling, and I was trying hard not to be sucked into it. I wasn't that bothered that there was nowhere where you could both eat & drink at the same time and, although the hotel felt pretty cheap (no hot water, rare electricity etc) that was because it was cheap. And it was our own choice - Caroline had suggested somewhere more civilised, but we'd baulked at the price tag.
This morning it all went a bit wrong. Only one change really - we went to the market and found all the stall-holders were trying to rip us off - but when you've only just been staying positive about somewhere, that's more than enough. On reflection, though, I don't regret it. It just made me realise how wonderful it is to come back to Yamba, to people who actually like you :-)
And to another apocalyptic sunset - we've had the second coming a week ago, I'm sure we're onto the fourth or fifth.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Irente
24/5/2008
The interesting bit of today should be entirely depicted in photos - and there are plenty of excellent ones. Admittedly most of them are on other people's cameras, but that's a small matter. The major problem is that it'll take most of my lifetime to upload any of them from the internet cafés out here, so you'll just have to use your imagination. Trust me, it's good.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Later note: my photos (the less exciting ones) are over here.
Lushoto Sun Hotel
23/5/2008
Dear,
Customers.
If you have anything which has the value.
You are allowed to leave at the Reception for high Personel Security.
If anything lost Management will not be responsible.
Management
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Funeral
22/5/2008
Apparently I've (or more accurately the villa has) been lucky that there wasn't a funeral until the end of my 3rd week here - one a week is more common. A woman in her early 20s had an epileptic fit & fell into a fire; she died in hospital of infections complicated by malaria.
When there's a funeral in the village, the norm is for all work to stop for the day, which is a moving gesture. What's far more beautiful, though, is that teaching continues. That's important, and a very promising sign in my eyes.
Everyone stops working because everyone goes to the funeral - including, of course, the wazungu. To be honest I was rather apprehensive - going to a funeral of someone you don't know feels disturbingly voyeuristic. But I'd have upset people more by not going than by almost anything I might do wrong there. Besides which, just because death is more of a regular occurence in a remote Tanzanian village doesn't make this woman any less someone's daughter, someone's wife, and someone's mother.
So I went to probably the first funeral I've seen without rain (tho it came close), and at first it felt that the pathetic fallacy would've been wasted - for an hour or so we just sat and talked, as we waited for the body to be brought back. Then a bed was born up the hill, with a figure tightly wrapped in cloths upon it. It passed the men in expectant, almost excited silence, but when the procession moved round the corner to the women the world changed. Screams and cries which sounded scarcely human rent the air, and I don't doubt will haunt my dreams. Then 5 minutes later we were walking away, which felt very strange.
So my expectations were right, it was not a comfortable experience for me. But then that's not really important, is it? Tomorrow, to Lushoto for the weekend.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Revelling
21/5/2008
Today I'm revelling in dappled shadows cast by strange plants, the joy of the 8 year olds playing football with a tennis ball (and wanting me to join in), apocalyptic clouds at sunset and, if I'm honest, the feeling of power when you find the ant that's been biting you for half an hour and crush it under the steamroller of a triple-A battery.
Not many words today, but many feelings.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Bounceback
20/5/2008
Apparently everyone's supposed to feel a low after a few weeks. To begin with only the positives hit you, so the theory goes: everyone's pleased to see you, the kids are all smiling, the scenery's breathtaking. Then suddenly the bad stuff builds up: you spend hours on site doing nothing and feeling useless, there's always bloody kids following you around, the poverty and desperation of ordinary life hits home.
I don't count Saturday morning as a low, since it was entirely down to malicious chemical influences, but today didn't start well. Will seems to be getting fairly depressed from the Lariam, which doesn't help, the weather's been miserable for a few days, and yesterday we only did anything useful in the first hour of work, with today looking like being much the same.
But if that's to be the extent of my down them I'm quite content. A couple of hours later we started bricklaying on the site, and after a few false starts we were able to see our progress shoot up better than ever before. After lunch the sun came out too, but (though these bits definitely lifted his spirits a bit) I'm not sure Will's stopped being depressed... Malaria gets into everything, but it's not going to spoil my day dammit.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Language
19/5/2008
has always been a difficult beast. We're having a couple of Kiswahili lessons each week, and (although I'm sure I don't learn what Cosmas tries to teach us) I think I know a few more words at the beginning of one session than I did at the beginning of the previous. And, since we're paying the equivalent of about 30p each for the lesson, I think that's well worth doing.
In case you were wondering, the odd 'Ki' on the beginning of 'swahili' does have a purpose. Talking about 'swahili' on it's own could refer to anything related to the Swahili people: the 'ki' prefix specifies language (so kiingerreza is the language of the English).
But here's the kicker: we're learning Kiswahili because it's useful all over East Africa, but it's not the native tongue of Yamba. People here first speak Kisambaa (i.e. the language of the Sambaa people), which is local to the Tanga region. Young children, and some of the older folk, only speak Kisambaa. Big deal, I hear you cry - it's not as if I could spend hours in conversation in Kiswahili OR Kisambaa, what difference does it make? To me, very little. But Tanzania has 2 national languages: Kiswahili and English. All of primary school is taught in Kiswahili. All of secondary school is taught in English. If a local kid is to go anywhere in secondary education, he or she has to be fluent (or at least able to function on a daily basis) in 3 languages by the equivalent of year 7. There is some overlap between Kisambaa and Kiswahili, but there's no getting around the basic problem. I don't think I know anyone in the UK who'd be up to it... No wonder some of the kids at Yamba primary are pushing 20.
Just when you thought there were enough obstacles to make life a little more exciting for someone born in Yamba, you come upon one you hadn't even imagined. My body is telling me, in an entirely different language, to go to bed now. And I think I might pay it some heed.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Christianised
18/5/2008
It being our first Sunday in Yamba, Will, T, Fi and I were expected to go to church and introduce ourselves. (It's the Catholic church first, and maybe we'll check out the Lutheran one in a couple of weeks). And since we'd each just received a letter from the Catholic Bishop of Tanga (VA works sort of under their umbrella) it seemed churlish to refuse.
I did struggle with a couple of things, though. Obviously I didn't understand a word that was said, so I only vaguely feel that I've actually worshipped God. And, though the music was gorgeous, and I got a distinct feeling that there was something there, I couldn't get properly into even that. It was also rather saddening that, in a culture with a tradition of always sharing food, there was no communion.
But my biggest problem is in the photo above: why the fuck does an African village, where apparently no white people had ever been seen until Caroline arrived 2 years ago, have a white Jesus in their church? In western Europe we can argue that although it's historically inaccurate, at least it helps us to connect with him. Out here it just feels like religious imperialism - trust in the white man's God. Now of course it may simply be that this was the only crucifix available, but that's scarcely any better: instead of the villagers having decided that Jesus should be white, it just means that people further up the chain of power made that decision. I'll be intrigued to find out whether the Lutherans provide a solution to any of my theological quibbles ;-)
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Low ebb
17/5/2008
You all know the romance to be shared with a toilet after a heavy night. The cold porcelain kiss of reassurance. It becomes a little more depressing when you're sitting on a hole in the floor, temporarily blind, feeling sick and light-headed, in a cold sweat, and aware that any of these might be symptoms of malaria. Especially if you've spent most of the last chunks of high biting time outside, and two of your friends, living in the same place, have just been hospitalised with the bug. Telling yourself that all the symptoms might well be explained by the night before, or by your own panic about malaria, just doesn't work.
For a day which began thus, it's ending in a much more civilised vein. As I sit here on the verandah in the sun, being repeatedly beaten at noughts and crosses by Stephen (a 14 year old Yamba student who is surely the finest player I've come up against), I feel rather more at peace with the world. It's the end of another day in Africa. Africa!
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Dancing in the moonlight
16/5/2008
When was the last time you spent the night dancing in a rain cloud? Tonight was Will's birthday, and to be honest I'm rather disappointed that I wont be having a birthday in Yamba. As seems to be the case with me partying in Africa, it was largely insane and unreal, and all the more fun as a result.
We were joined by mid-afternoon by the two remaining, healthy Mili girls, and apparently they'd been putting the word around: after supper we began hearing whistles, then a guitar and a looped tape became discernable. And the party began. Perhaps 40 or 50 locals turned up, many of them, it has to be said, somewhat the worse for wear from the local brew. That just gave them stamina, though, and the rain & mist was irrelevant. It seems strange to speak of stamina when the main party was over by 9:30, but on a normal night here we're probably abed by 8. The wazungus kept it up til about 1, with a mixture of Kate Nash through Sibu's speakers and Gluck through my flute. India is a pretty notable flautist, and also rather a fan of Dance of the Blesséd Spirits, so I'd come prepared for the evening. Fortunately the levels of fluid influence balanced out - if she'd lost any skill in playing, I'd certainly lost the ability to tell. So it remained as joyful an experience as it should have been. There are a couple of bits and bobs that the Western tradition has got right. It was a pleasure to be able to bring one with me.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
The unpublished entry
15/5/2008
So called because I cant possibly let my family hear this before I'm safely back - my mum, in particular, would probably have forty fits.
But it turns out that this living in Africa lark is a little tricky. One of the Mili girls I still owe an introduction is Roseanna, who came to Tanzania having spent 3 months working with primates in Cameroon. Unfortunately she came complete with malaria, and was hit pretty hard - she'd almost died the week before I met her. She hasn't really recovered properly either, and over the weekend in Tanga she took what's probably the hardest decision of all, to go home. So she caught the bus back to Dar, with John Shekuamba keeping an eye on her, on Tuesday. She was still teaching on Monday. I think we've lost someone special - though I should say that there are a number of exceptional people here.
This week Miranda and Vic have been in the doldrums with malaria, as well. Vic seems (touch wood) to be fighting it off successfully, but Miranda really hasn't been getting any better. So today, just as John Shekuamba got out of the car, returning from seeing Ro to her plane, Miranda got in to go to Tanga hospital. We've just received news from Mili that Flo was hit very suddenly by it, and is already in hospital, so Miranda can go and keep her company.
It's a very odd feeling, since when I came I thought of malaria as something pretty rare, but that would probably kill you. Now I'm thinking in terms of when, rather than if, I get it. Caroline gets malaria more often than I catch a cold. And we wazungu are all on the best anti-malarials, DEETed up to the eyeballs, sleeping under mosquito nets - in short, doing all those things which we ought to do. It'll come as no suprise that 99.9% of Africans cant afford to do most or any of this. And you know what? People die in their tens or hundreds of thousands every year. Of an insect bite.
I know you've heard all this before. I have too, but I never really knew it until I came. I'm not sure I can sign off in the usual way tonight, so I'll just end with goodbye, and good luck.
Abacus
14/5/2008
Now I really feel like I've Worked - with a capitol W. The time on site was again pretty enjoyable, though of course physically draining, and we also met Freddy's beautiful son. But it's after that that things started to get frustrating: since building volunteers only work mornings, Caroline has found us other jobs to fill the afternoons. I blithely said I'd do whatever was most needed, which turned out to be... the accounts :-S. But, although there probably would be too much empty time without a second job, there isn't quite enough time to do as much of this as I'm supposed to comfortably.
The routine goes something like this - work finishes, then I race up the hill (which is something in itself), wolf down lunch, rush a shower (or rather a scoop-and-bucket, but it doesn't roll of the tongue so well), then race off to Caroline's for accounts. Of course I then arrive hot and bothered, ruining the point of the shower. I then leave Caroline's house with just not enough time to get to the next stage, pretty much regardless of what the next stage is, and it's not unreasonable to say that my first free time of the day (having woken up at 6:15) is about now. My watch says 22:30.
I don't mean to whine, though - for instance, how many people have a 45 minute commute as rewarding (even if demmanding) as ours? Will described it well when he said that, no matter where you look, you feel like you're in a National Geographic photo. And things should get a little easier tomorrow, since I've taken the accounts home to save the half-hour's walk to and from the boss' house. That probably means I'll end up doing them all weekend, but so what if I do - I'll still be looking out at the top of the world as I do. I promise you your accounts cant look anything like this good :-P
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Rocks
13/5/2008
Today involved quite a lot of them. The first hour-ish of work we were simply moving lots of large rocks from one pile to another. We also learnt the difference between good rocks and bad rocks (the bad ones are kindof quartzy. The really bad ones look like rocks, but when I've carefully placed them into the wall Freddy picks them up and they crumble into earth. I felt quite the fool.) Then we discovered the different uses for big, dry rocks and little, wet rocks (also known as concrete). So we feel like Real Men ;-)
I also felt like we got somewhere today - the foundations were filled with appropriate rocks by the time we left, and one of the walls was up to about a foot (using flat-edged rocks). Tomorrow, I suspect, more rocks :-D
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Faces
12/5/2008
Ok, I promised that I'd try to introduce my main players, so here goes. I'll start with those living at the highest altitude, and work down :-) Up at Mzizma live Tom and Vic. Both are post-uni (both took law degrees) and about to go into legal practice. There's a theme of lawyers throughout, for reasons we've struggled to get to the bottom of. Vic, now I come to think of it, gives little of herself away, though she doesn't come across as shy or aloof. It may simply be that I haven't had the right conversations - when we arrived the teachers had been together for 2 weeks, and were probably sick of making introductions.
Tom is the only bloke teaching, and is a big hit with the kids (most of whom are failing to learn Go Fish from him). He also has an uncanny knack for bullshitting, so his pronouncements have to be taken with a little caution.
Next stop down you reach Carol. Carol's parents took the £10 ticket to Australia when she was 7, so she's more or less an Aussie. She's also bringing a good deal of experience and skill with her, since she's been teaching primary school in Oz for many years - although admittedly the kids there are supposed to be speaking the same language. She's known to many of the kids as Mama Carlo, which has a delicious Mafiosi ring to it.
Next stop is Miranda and Sybil. Miranda is, I think, quite a lot like me: it was she who tried to organise us all into meeting before we came here, which show's a need to feel prepared that I definately share (as anyone who's seen my travel plans every time I do more than catch 1 bus will attest). She's also pretty nervous around new people, to the extent that it was almost a running joke when we arrived, though I think I hide it better than she does ;-) Sybil, or Sybubu, is probably my closest rival for baby of the group (age-wise, I mean. I dont want to cast aspersions on anyone's emotional layout, least of all mine). She's also the best of us for Kiswahili.
Then we have the new arrivals - newer even than I. Fi came today, so is something of an unknown quantity - she's an RAF medic, only not in Afghanistan on account of some broken ribs. So she's neither teaching nor building, but working in the health post for a few weeks before she's sent off to the sandpit. Will turned up over the weekend, and (since for a long time we were the only 2 signed up to build, and exchanged a couple of emails) he was the one I knew most about before I came - though even that was very little. Now though I almost feel that I know less. He's another fresh out of law school, and (having been travelling for 7 months already) is full of stories. Perhaps we'll exhaust his supply in a while ;-)
The lowest of the Yamba volunteers live at the Dr's house - myself and Tahmour. I refuse to describe myself, but T (he went for that after discovering that the villagers had all sorts of trouble with his name, a decision I perhaps should have made myself) was a last-minute addition to the building team. I first heard about him the day before I left, when Pod told me I'd be coming off the same plane as him at Dar. I worry a little that he may be struggling to fit in - certainly I havent found it easy to chat with him, and he seems to be on the phone home at most opportunities. I hope I'm wrong.
At this level I should also introduce Clemencia, our housegirl (VA tried calling them housekeepers, but I'm told they preferred housegirl). She's great fun, and will tease you mercilessly if you give her a chance, but she looks after us really well. No idea how we'd manage without her - I mean that sincerely.
I told you these people were owed space - perhaps I'd better stop now, and introduce everyone else another time. Now I'd best get some sleep to recover from today - which, he says in passing, went really well. I actually felt like I was getting properly into the swing of building today, a stage I didn't quite reach last week. Tough going, but ever so rewarding.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Back
11/5/2008
I never quite explained where I was going. Our first weekend away was to Tanga these last couple of days, which perhaps explains the adrenaline/alcohol fueled scrawl which was Friday's entry. But it seems perhaps that trips away wont be very conducive to writing. I have the excuse of being a little differently chemically aligned on Friday, but Saturday I just didn't think of it.
I'd always expected that the weekends away wouldn't leave me with such a sense that I needed to tell the world everything that was going on, so I had planned to do a quick pen portrait of the main figures in my little adventure. I realise that I've already referred to people without introducing them, but I trust that you're a smart enough audience to pick things up as you go along. However, I still intend to introduce people properly at some stage, for the simple reason that they're good and I think interesting people. But not tonight. Bright and early tomorrow, to get to work for 8, so now is sleep time.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
TIA
9/5/2008
Public health warning: the following post was written when I was a little drunk and very over-excited...
No sane person would ever have done what the 6 of us did tonight, but T!I!A! If you dont know what it means then you weren't there, and therefore you wouldnt understand even if I explained it. And if nothing else, I can add to the list of things I've done "get kissed by an arab man you met in a toilet".
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Sourcerer's Apprentice
8/5/2008
Dunno whether you kow the reference - I think it predates the disney Fantasia, but perhaps not. Anyway, I found myself in a pretty similar situation to the autonomous mops - I'm sure that after a while I was whitewashing over bits that were already as whitewashed as they'd ever be, simply because none of the builders knew the magic words to tell me to stop.
Eventually someone decided we'd finished the room, with some time to spare. For once T & I weren't the only ones taking the rest of the day off :-) Apparently the work down at the garage was on the groundbreaking stage when they paused to come up here, and they've just hit the bedrock. So on monday morning I shall be breaking rocks in the hot, hot sun, despite having been very good and never fought the law once. And this is a man who contrived, this afternoon, to achieve 3 blisters in the course of an hour's rubbish-pit digging. Hey-ho: I never said I was coming here to be comfortable.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Whitewash man
7/5/2008
Not just another white man anymore... We met Freddy (who's the head builder) and Richard (site manager), and were introduced to the rest of the team. There were even a couple of local volunteers as well, which is great but for the fact that I've got even less chance of remembering names. Of course, very little English is spoken, and my Kiswahili isn't up to much either, so there wont be awkward conversational moments when my ignorance is revealed, but still...
I felt a bit of a fraud today, though. Our 'normal' hours are supposed to be 8 - 12, whereas the professionals work 8-4. Which seems very fair... :-S But for some reason today we were told to start at 10. 2 hours' work... hmm... It doesn't just mean that I've only done a full coat on a couple of walls, but also that I don't have much idea what progress has happened overall - I feel pretty disconnected. Caroline doesn't want us to do more than 4 hours for a week or so, but from the way she said it I expect she realises we'll be itching to. Hopefully we'll finish the room at Mama Sauda's tomorrow, so we've got somewhere to put Will & Fi (the last 2 wazungu) when they arrive next week. Then down to the end of the road to build a store for the garage.
Now that might make me feel less of a fraud: I walked down there this afternoon, largely to see if I could avoid getting lost - and miraculously managed, in something of an historic first. But, discounting "Shickamoo" stops*, it takes at least half an hour to go down and (unsuprisingly, given the gradient) most of an hour to get back. I strongly suspect it'll take more effort to commute than to actually work. I guess I may want to work longer, just so I don't have to climb the hill at the peak of the sun...
I said I went to see if I got lost, but in truth it's impossible to go far wrong. If you loser track completely (and I do) you just turn to one of the half-dozen children following you and say "School" or "Doctor's house" and they'll guide you back. The Pied Piper has nothing on a mzungu in Yamba.
A position I took to its natural conclusion this evening, when I got my flute out. Up at Mzizma there are always a few dozen kids of an evening, playing cards with Tom or football just below the garden. So when I started playing I instantly had a sizeable audience, as I should really have expected. After a chunk of Gluck I put my baby to bed, and straight away, having heard it only once, various small folk were singing phrases back to me. I'm trying so hard to avoid using all the clichés of every European in Africa, but that's definately something we've lost.
I'm getting more and more verbose, and probably saying little... I'll stop for the night ;-)
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
*Greetings, all in Kisambaa, are VERY important.
I like...
6/5/2008
Today was mostly spent learning how not to fall victim to malaria, AIDS, or any of the other topics in the risk assessment pack - yes, just cos we're in Tanzania doesnt mean we don't get to do the same fun things as you back home. I can also more or less find my way between a couple of the key chunks of village, though on the way back from Caroline's house (she's the boss of Village Africa, in case you were wondering) we were thoroughly lost within a few minutes and had to pick up a 12-year-old guide. Unfortunately he took us to Mzizma, where most of the teachers live, but I hadn't the heart to tell him that we wanted to be at the doctor's house.
As an aside, the doctor's house is rather sadly named. It's right next to the school, and used to be the teacher's house, but the villagers decided that what they really needed was a doctor. The teachers I think all had other places to go in the village, so the house was made available to try to attract a doctor. VA have renovated it, too, but thus far - no doctor. And that is, in a way, fair enough: a doctor working in Lushoto or Korogwe could probably see 70-80 people a day, whereas the 2 nurses at Yamba health post see 10 or 12. But any doctor's reading this... even a couple of weeks'd be great. PoD.
I've also learnt that I'm allowed to like butter but I don't like jam. I also like mummy, but I don't like dad. And I like villages, but I don't like towns. It's somewhat easier to understand when written, so I wonder if any commenters can tell me things which, on this basis, they like and dislike. Tho please don't say why, as that would just rob everyone else of the satisfaction. I particularly like good food, but not bad wine.
Tomorrow, we'll actually start working!
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
If I were to die
5/5/2008
If I were to die right now, I'd be able to say "God, what a ride. What a ride"
Mike Yaconelli
And that was just the car trip to get here... First bit of the day wouldn't make riveting reading - woke up, caught bus, bus broke down, bus broke down, got off bus, met John and Edmond. Then we found out what off-road driving is really about - and, I suspect, why Toyota Landcruisers have such a reputation for indestructibility. Despite the fact that John was doing 110kmph (c. 70 mph), I still managed to fall asleep on that journey... My body clock is fucked....
Met 4 of the teachers in Milingano, which they're finding hard to get used to (the 9 of them spent the last 2 weeks together, in Yamba). Had just long enough chatting with them to realise that it's a shame I wont see them all that regularly - it's a good couple of hours drive and walk from Mili to Yamba, and of course to cover the full sylabus for the kids there, the Mili girls have to stay there for the duration. Then home I went. And I think I really will call Yamba home soon.
Still don't really know what the next 24 hours will bring, but that's been true of any point since friday - which feels, rightly enough, half a world away. Good Night from Yamba.
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Welcome to Africa
4/5/2008
I guess I've been here for 5 hours, so it's time for first impressions. So far, pretty much what I think I'd have expected of 5 hours in Tanzania ;-) Hot, unquestionably - I was particularly struck by the annoucement the pilot made when I arrived for a brief stopover before getting to Tanzania itself: "Welcome to Doha, Ladies and Gentlemen. The local time is 5:40am, and the outside air temperature is 27°C". It wasn't actually that much hotter when I reached Dar - 29, I think the man said - at 2 ish. But then this is apparently the rainy season.
So far my great expedition seems to be a strange mix of Luci's (to Thailand) and a certain vicar's (to India). I checked in at Heathrow amid a sea of Thai students, apparently returning after some great studying extravaganza. Opposite (which I noticed first, with little more than a wry smile) were the desks for Air India, with a charming young chap trying to explain a delayed flight. but it's in Tanzania itself where the real Indian connection comes - after all, we're on the Indian Ocean coast here, and there's been trade beteen the two for more or less as long as there's been trade. And every so often you see a face which gives you a momentary double-take, until you remember that black African is not the only local gene pool.
At the moment, though, I'm annoying myself by being far too sensible - this is the view from my beach hut (oh yes, I gotta beach hut)
But what was the first thing I did when I got here? Did I go for a swim, or even a paddle? No, I started sewing up the hole in my mosquito net. And now I'm writing about it. Good God I'm dull...
But heh - you know what? I'm fucking well In AFRICA!
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
Honestly
23/5/2008
I leave england for a few weeks and everything goes to pot. Turns out there was a power cut, and when the power came back the comments werent working. I dont really get why, unless the num_comments.js file has been deleted :-( But anyhow, if it doesnt come back, please just email me. And once I get a few minutes, I'll start putting up my ramblings, since that seems to be the majority opinion. After all, it's not as if it'll be any less cogent than most of the content of the site ;-)
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder
A quick hellooooo
9/5/2008
This is me at my first internets in AFRICA. I'm f***ing well IN AFRICA... Anyway, you knew that, but it doesn't stop me being very excited about it :-). At the moment all I'm doing is saying "Hi, I'm alive", but I have been writing quite a lot of a diary. Some of it is probably worth reading (at least to anyone who thinks the rest of this site is), but some of it almost certainly isn't. So the question is this - would you like me to put it all here, and let you look through, edit it (which may take longer) or post none of it? Answers onna postcard (or, preferably, in comments/emails).
NeverLoseYourSenseOfWonder