Oranges for days

My parents have given me my third installment of oranges from their farm. My baba came home after dark today, bringing a big bag of oranges that don't actually get past the green color on the outside. I have been told that after the rainy season, they will actually turn orange when ripe.

I'm still working on the last bag they gave me. It's time to double up and/or give some to my fellow trainees.

This afternoon we learned how to make vertical gardens out of large bags, similar to those that are used to sell rice in large quantities. I'm pretty excited to use this skill, and we all received bags to build these gardens with our homestay families. We also need to prepare two holes for fruit-bearing saplings we will be receiving to plant at our homes as well.

More hot days and dusty winds.

Nights so dark in my room that you see the same thing whether your eyes are open or closed. Oh perfect night.

Adrenaline rushes

Just another day full of Swahili lessons, gardening instruction, and Tanzanian heat. I was able to get a cold ginger beer soda on our way back to our village today, which made the day that much better.

Then I almost got run over by a motorcycle. I credit the ginger soda for my quick reflexes. Disaster averted.

I went to our bathroom tonight after dark and my toad friend was there as usual. This time he was practically doing parkour moves, scaling the gap between the door and the frame. I was mesmerized by the strength in his small body as he free climbed more than two feet up, then I realized I had to actually get out of the bathroom at some point. I held onto him as I opened the door so he wouldn't fall, then set him on the step outside.

One of our hens hatched chicks this morning. I went into the kitchen to put away the dishes I just washed and there they all were!

Tiny lives.

Losing light

Yesterday my parents did their best to explain to me that today someone was coming to remove the lights. Midway through our Swahili lessons, my baba came to summon me to unlock my door so that the crew could remove the light in my room.

My mama explained to me that even though the unit is solar-powered, they still have to pay more than 10,000 shillings (about $5) for it each month. Simple math tells us that that's more than a million shillings over the course of ten years. That's a lot of money in Tanzania.

Sitting in the back courtyard with my mama and aunt in the dark, the kerosene lamp perched on the floor just inside the hall of the house. My aunt teaches me a new way to respond when someone calls my name, and eventually walks back to her house.

We wait for the coconut rice to finish. The lamp casts a golden light in the hall, illuminating the walls that are rust-colored halfway up, then a smoky blue on the upper portion. Everything is dark except the hallway, the light spilling out onto the stony stoop, and the sky that is almost exactly the same color as the hallway's upper walls. The three doors in the hallway all have breezy curtains that hang in front of them, and the one in front of my mama's room billows gently back and forth. Our kitten plays behind the lamp, hunting insects and shadows.

My mama gets up to fetch the platter from the small table in the hallway behind the back door. She pauses for a moment in the doorway, and the light shines through the many-colored stripes that border her skirt.

I look up. The stars are brighter than ever.

Domestic sundays

Sunday, the one day of the week we have off. Today involved the usual (can I say that already?) tasks of sweeping and mopping, washing laundry, and helping cook. My mama showed me how to make ugali today. She let me "songa" (stir) the ugali, which is similar to polenta, however I guess I didn't do a good enough job because she took the spoon out of my hand shortly after she let me try!

My mama went to a meeting today and my nine-year-old cousin Fatuma and I rested during the heat of the day. She brought me a thermos of tea and these coconut-flavored fried muffin-like creations that were delicious. We chatted in Swahili to the best of my abilities - I had her teach me colors, and we talked about her siblings' ages, her extended family, her school, what she was going to do for the rest of the day, and what she wants to do when she grows up ("everything").

I sat in front of our house with my mama as she peeled and cut potatoes for chipsi mayai. Neighbors filtered in and out, chatting and sitting on our benches.

It grew dark and I learned that tonight was apparently the night I was to be taught how to iron (one of the "survival skills" Peace corps suggests our host families teach us). Ijumaa, my fifteen-or-so-year-old cousin and domestic dream, summoned me. I think he thought I had never ironed anything before.

I have indeed ironed clothing before, just not outside after dark, in Africa, by the light of a kerosene lamp, with a charcoal-fed iron. First we ironed his school uniform ("freshi!" He said when it was finished), then we moved on to one of my skirts, a kanga, and some of my pillowcases. Ijumaa kept the coals stoked and passed me the iron. He seemed pretty proud when we finished. I thanked him as best I could.

My toad had a toad friend in the bathroom when I went to go shower tonight.

A dry day, a starry night.

10 things I didn't do before coming here

1. Eating meat. I've eaten some beef and chicken since coming here. I can't say that I enjoy it very much, and I certainly wouldn't cook it for myself, but in a land where refined starches dominate the plate, I'll take my nutrients where they're presented.

2. Greeting (and being greeted by) EVERYONE you see. Living in a small village, everyone knows who you are, what you're doing, and where you're supposed to be. If you don't greet people, they may not help you out in the future, so greeting everyone is the general rule. (One exception: boys/ men aged 15-30; they usually greet me first. I do not greet them first.)

3. Resisting the urge to pet every animal I see. I am living in a Muslim community, and although there are some people in my village who own dogs, they are considered unclean animals, and are used strictly as work animals. Most people do not keep pets as we consider them in the US; here, animals are considered livestock. Hardly anyone shows affection for animals.

4. Taking bucket baths. It's pretty remarkable how little water you actually need to get clean. 

5. Pit latrines. Enough said.

6. Getting really excited about cold soda, cold water, anything cold to drink. In a land where refrigeration doesn't really exist, it's a pretty big deal.

7. Riding piled into the backs of land rovers with my contemporaries, the AC struggling against the many bodies in the African heat. Bumpy roads and cattle crossings.

8. Getting excited for cloudy days and the rainy season. It's probably not a fun season at all, but the pros are that it might be cooler (probably not really) and that mango season is coming!

9. Looking forward to seeing my toad friend when I shower in the morning and at night.

10. Being acutely aware of the Islam call to prayer. All hours of the day and night, it seems.

Frog is in the choo

I have a toad friend who I frequently see in the morning and at night, when I'm showering. I think he passes through the choo (bathroom) at night to soak up the water left in the floor and to seek out any insects that are in there.

The other night, I was sitting with my mama in our back courtyard after it grew dark. All of a sudden we hear a light tap, tap, tap on the hard-packed clay, and see a tiny dark figure bouncing across the courtyard.

"Chura!" My mama says. "Frog!" We both laugh. It is such a peaceful and humorous moment of a tiny creature making its way, not so silently, across the ground.

Our kitten likes to chase my toad friend. Tonight he was chasing him, pretty harmlessly, but frightening for the toad nonetheless. I was sitting in the courtyard, it growing dark again. The kitten chased the toad toward me, and he took refuge, first between my feet and then jumped up onto my foot, his small body surprisingly soft, almost velvety, against my skin. Then he scampered away towards the duck pen. The kitten chased him halfheartedly.

Dramas of small lives all around me.

The new normal

In "real life" back in the US, brushing my teeth was never a social activity, and in fact was never an activity that was particularly interesting or notable.

I think you know where I'm going with this: not so in Tanzania.

In the morning, I brush my teeth after breakfast and before I put sunscreen on. I rummage through all my belongings piled on my desk (the only furniture in my room is a bed, a desk, and a chair), find my toothbrush and toothpaste, nab my towel and water bottle and head for the back courtyard. I slide my sandals on, as we do not wear shoes in the house.

Usually this is around 7:30 am, and the sun has risen and the chickens and ducks are running around the courtyard, eating and chasing each other, helter-skelter.

A relative or neighbor inevitably walks through the gate, and I must go through rounds of greetings: I will greet an elder appropriately, they will ask me the news of the morning (Always "good") and how I woke up (always "peacefully"). If I anticipate someone coming, I try to avoid having a mouthful of frothy toothpaste so I'm actually able to reply!

Chickens and ducks wreaking havoc, me spitting my toothpaste into the drain while my uncle wakes up my cousin who sleeps in a room off our courtyard. My aunt coming and going, my mama's grandson bringing fruit or vegetables.

Never a dull moment when brushing your teeth.