One week in

I've been in my village a week. That's pretty crazy to be able to say. 

Well, what can I tell you? My house isn't finished yet, so I'm still living out of my various bags and buckets in the guesti. My dada and I spend a lot of time together, I try to understand her Kiswahili and laugh when she chases the huge male duck when it tries to enter her drugstore. 

I've met more people than I ever thought would be possible, was introduced to ~180 secondary school students, class by class, by a hilarious and enthusiastic teacher named Jumanne ("Tuesday"), and was taken to see rock paintings similar to some well-known ones not too far away. 

I was flipping through a history book of east Africa when the topic came up. "Oh yeah," Jumanne said, "we have paintings like that too. They're just down the hill," he said, in so many Kiswahili words. So I said I wanted to see them, and off three of us went. Through parched creek beds, past bewildered children herding donkeys, through brush, past basking lizards. Partway down a steep forested hill, a large rock can be found, on the underside of which there is a small place to take shelter, and ancient paintings in red, of hunters, weather, and elephants. 

On top of the rock, you can see for miles. 

First full day

Chai taken this morning with my guesti dada at the chai mama's up the road. Steaming spiced sugared tea, fresh chapati, and a bowl of beans cooked into deliciousness. We spent the late morning in the sitting room next to the drugstore my dada runs, in addition to the guest rooms in the back courtyard, one of which I'm staying in. I did exercises in my Swahili book while she pored over my dictionaries and folded tiny envelopes to dispense pills in. The sun made its way slowly through the clouds that remained after rain this morning. It was probably in the sixties all day, quite cool. 

We went to Bwana Shamba's (literally "mister farm", village agricultural officer) for lunch. As soon as I walked in my eyes were drawn to two images on the wall: the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and the Last Supper with the slightly awkward but even more poignant translation "I am that Bread of Life" inscribed below. Funny how some pictures on a wall and a familiar blessing before a meal can make you feel at home instantly. Also, the chicken I was served was probably the best I've ever eaten. (Although that might not be saying much, coming from someone who was vegetarian most of her life. :) )

Had soda and cookies at the nurse's house, watched kids play a complicated game for what seemed like hours, was taken by a slightly intoxicated woman to drink tea and talk about God and her children at her house, and then was rescued by my dada to take dinner at Bwana Shamba's again. 

The pressure's on to learn Chasi, the main tribal language here. There is another tribe here in the village that speaks Kirangi, but the majority speak Chasi. Everyone speaks Swahili as well, but when they are conversing it is usually in tribal. Even if I learn a few words it will delight them to no end. I'm on the lookout for a good teacher. :)

All by my onesie

I have been dropped off on my village. I cannot live in my house yet because the latrine isn't finished, so my village chairman is putting me up in the guesti here until I can move into my house. My guesti dada is an awesome girl who's taken me under her wing. My chairman and "bwana shamba" agriculture officer have been attentive to my needs today, namely food and potable water. 

It is raining a lot today. I have been told that I have brought the rain, as it is raining a lot today, a lot more than usual. Many places in this country are struggling at the tail end of a very long dry season and rains that are starting late and light. 

I can't help but feel a bit cosmic and purposeful what with my role as rainmaker. Hopefully this is a good omen of fruitful things to come. :)

Travel days

Yesterday we signed a written oath at the Peace corps office, had our swear-in ceremony at the U.S. embassy, and wrapped up travel logistics for the following day. Our day today started in the wee hours, as our bus from the center we were staying at departed for the main bus station at 3:30 in the morning. We arrived at the bus station, with dark buses turned off and dark kiosks and chai stalls, many people and little light to see by. Peace corps staff ushered us through puddles and past people to our bus, which we boarded and waited until 6:30 to depart on. Our district supervisors boarded this bus as well, as they will be accompanying us to site. 

Needless to say, I did not get much sleep last night, so our bus ride went by in a very long and hot blur of changing scenery, decreasing humidity, and Tanzanian pop music. We found a PCV in town whom we had met before, so we hung out with him for the rest of the afternoon and evening. 

A cool night is calling me to a good night's sleep. 

Changing days

The sun has set on the last day of training. Tomorrow we will become volunteers. 

The day was filled with meeting our district supervisors, attending workshop type lectures, and hanging out with these fellow trainees who in a few short days will be spread throughout Tanzania. 

I wrote letters, we practiced our song medley performance for our ceremony, and one of my fellow trainees gave me some clothing she no longer wants. 

It is hot and humid, and the lethargy of the day caused us to move more slowly than usual. The glass bottles of drinks sweat faster. 

Long sips, slow conversation. Soon we will all be apart. 

We are the waiting

Back to the friendly surrounds of the compound where we first stayed upon arrival to Tanzania. We arrived yesterday evening, after a long journey, the second half of which seemed to be spent sitting in city traffic. It is pretty surreal to have electricity and running (if not entirely potable) water again, after about two months of homestay. Those of us who will be continuing to live without these luxuries are savoring every moment of these short few days before installation at our sites. 

Today several other trainees and I were able to go to a nearby mall to do some shopping. I got a SIM card and groceries - here in Tanzania, when you see an actual grocery store, the it-might-be-weeks-before-I-see-one-of-these-again mentality sets in, and you find yourself reveling in the sprawl of the aisles and the (seemingly) lavish selection of products. There was also a mini bookstore of books in ENGLISH and Swahili, and I picked up a book because I am in desperate need of reading material. Collected popping corn, some brown rice, instant breakfast porridge packets, and all ingredients for a proper cup of tea, and I was on my way. 

When I get to site, as long as I have the necessities to make a good cup of tea and some semblance of breakfast, I have confidence that everything else will fall into place. :)

Last homestay day

Today, it rained. I think today is officially the first day of long rain season. It rained at four in the morning and woke me up, it rained as I took a bucket bath, it rained when I ate breakfast, chai, and lunch, it rained when I washed my dishes. 

As I ate breakfast, it was downpouring, and a small dilapidated chicken came to stand just inside our doorway. Our hall is about ten or fifteen feet long, and connects our front and back doors. On any given day, there are chickens parading through our hall, as it's their favorite shortcut from the courtyard to the great outdoors for some reason. 

This chicken was somewhere between being a pullet and being full grown. It had wet feathers, big feet, and a small, forlorn head that looked at me distrustfully. Mama has been cracking down on the hallway chicken parade because they make the hall all dirty. 

But I drank my tea and the chicken stood there and we both waited out the rain. 

There were between one and two dozen women filtering in and out of our kitchen all morning until afternoon when we went to the party. At any given moment, there were approximately six women helping to cook. Women took turns cracking open coconuts with machetes and scraping the meat out on an mbuzi, or "goat": a small stool with a sharp serrated protrusion on which you scrape coconuts. A very specific tool which is oh so necessary if you live in this part of Tanzania where there are coconuts everywhere. Mamas washing kilos upon kilos of rice, mamas sifting flour for ugali. 

All the morning I was pretty much completely useless because my mama insisted I reapply henna AGAIN, so there I was sitting helplessly, waiting for my henna to dry so I could brush it off. 

We had lunch and went to the party at the village up the road. The village executive officer had bought us matching striped polo shirts which we had to wear today, so there the eight of us were in a row, wearing our matching shirts, and we were plied with Anjari (Tanga soda) and had the seats of honor. There were drums, a dance troupe, and a microphone involved. We all had to introduce ourselves, and presented our framed photos of us with our host families as gifts, and then each of our families gave us gifts to take to site, which was so generous of them. Most of the items are cooking ware, which will be SO useful to have right away. 

We were cajoled into joining the dancers for a few dances, much to the delight of everyone in attendance - at least a hundred people, probably more. 

The party actually ended in a timely manner; I was planning on settling in for the long haul, but I returned home and had a fairly low-key rest of the evening. 

Tomorrow is an early start.