I feel fat. My mattress sinks in and the boards under it
will shift if I sit in the wrong spot. Inspires me to eat less bananas and
rice. So far I am doing well at losing/maintaining weight every day, so that’s
encouraging. And other people sink into their beds, too. Still, I cling to the
edge of my mattress sometimes in a weird dream state….literally cling.
Today I experienced how truly strange it is to be an
American here. Lot’s of kissy sounds. Lots of random people touching me. Lot’s
of people shouting things at me and laughing when I’d reply in Swahili. My
favorite thing was when these two little girls shouted “Mambo” and then ran
away screaming and giggling when I replied “Poa!!” Everyone laughs at you here,
but I don’t mind. I usually beat them to the punch and laugh first! Then they
laugh at my laugh.
Today Jackie and one of the house dadas, Dai, actually ate
dinner with us! I also learned how to do laundry and figured out the daladala
system. Every daladala is different in shape, type, window size etc. Today we
went on one that seemed to be designed for midgets or something—very low
windows. People tend to be pretty short here surprisingly, but I don’t think
that’s why the windows were one foot too low. Most buses are imported, or so
I’ve been told. The daladalas are also generally overcrowded. A man sits in the
back and bangs on the side, shouting where it’s going, in order to encourage
anyone and everyone to get on. There’s always room for one more person in a
daladala! That man (the shouting one) is also who collects the shilingi
(shillings) and opens/shuts the door. Whoever has that job has no fear of
constantly hopping in and out of a vehicle that never really stops moving.
(They’ll often hop in once it’s already driving away.) My favorite part of
going on the bus is listening to the dance music they always play. Everywhere
you go there is music—the kind that makes you want to shake your booty. Shops
blare it, houses blare it, buses blare it…even phones. Headphones aren’t really
used—they just play the song right out loud.
I also figured out I’ve been Italianizing Swahili and
spelling some things wrong. Like “mamma” and “babba”. Oops.
Oh, I also talked to my host brother today. He speaks
English and I wasn’t sure how much I should really converse in English with
him. Now he’s home with friends. I guess he goes to school in Educare, which is
a couple towns away. They are watching the soccer game—it’s very loud.
Wishing I could figure out how to get Internet soon. Seems
every attempt is a bigger failure. Sigh.
Yadey (How they often say my name)
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