June 21, The big, scary buibui

I am afraid of buibui. SPIDERS. Today I found one in my room that reminded me of a scorpion due to its shape. It was pretty freaky and I chased it around for a long time, or maybe it chased me, I’m not sure. I kept screaming awkwardly when I got close enough to kill it, until my host family came in to find out what was happening. When they saw it, they all laughed and allegedly chased it out of my room. I remain unconvinced and keep feeling like something is on my leg. It was fairly disturbing. Also…there is something mysterious and yellow under my bed. I’m afraid to find out what.

Today we did some fun games and learned weird facts about one another. Another guy in my program also got run-over (when he was a kid), which is pretty crazy! We also did another microteaching lesson. I did mine on –‘s and “of”. Overall, microteaching is a pretty boring experience, but important.  We also talked about homosexuality and the importance of discretion—it’s illegal here and you will be jailed if the police suspects you are gay. Kinda crazy to think about. Apparently they aren’t suspicious, however, because of the law…they assume no one is homosexual unless stated otherwise. Men can hold hands with men, women can hold hands with women, but men and women can’t hold hands because it carries a sexual connotation. We aren’t really supposed to broach the topic, but they did say that we might be asked our opinion on gay marriage now that Obama came out in support of (They generally love Obama—there’s even Obama chewing gum sold at my school!) It will be interesting to see if anyone tries to talk to me about it once I actually speak Swahili. For now, we mostly can talk about food and daily routines. Dream big.

I had another HOT bucket bath this morning—it made me so, so happy. They picked us up with the  PC van this morning, but we did the usual walk-bus-walk route home. Less “wazungu” calls and more normal greetings today, which was nice. I helped make chipsi (fried potatoes) once I got home. I’m not very handy without a cutting board. Not that I’m all that handy with one anyway, but dull knives and no cutting boards make it even trickier. I’m still not sure how dinner here works and if my family just likes to eat at different times for no particular reason. I ate with my host brother, but everyone else ate later on…and at different intervals.  So excited to upload the photos I’ve been getting on my iPhone—SUNDAY CAN’T COME SOON ENOUGH!!

Tuttaonana Kesho!

June 20, Meeting a Kenyan Politician

Today we primarily worked on language skills. My group was 1½ hours late thanks to the bus system (you have to wait until the bus fills up before the driver will embark, so today we sat waiting for quite a bit), so they have agreed to keep sending the PC van to our village in the mornings, like they did the first week we were here. I’m happy about it—saves me time and money!

Today I saw my first (dead) bush rat—HUGE. We saw it being held up by a banana-stand salesman on our way to town. We stopped to get soap/toothpaste from a supermarket before coming back to the village as a group. We walked most of the ways home. Normally, we would take 3 daladalas (buses) home, but today we only took one. We’ve done that before, but today we seemed to be getting extra “Mzungu” and “Wazungu” comments. At one point we met a Kenyan man named Sammy and his Brazilian wife. She pointed us out to him as we were walking because we’re white too, and they started asking us if we’re missionaries like them. We explained that we are all teachers in the Peace Corps, and we subsequently found out Sammy used to be a member of the Kenyan parliament. (Don’t remember his last name, but Michelle has it.) In fact, he was the youngest man to ever be elected to such a position. He told us that he plans on running for President in 10 years (after the next two 5-year terms), so maybe I actually met someone who will be super important! He gave us his contact info, so if he does end up being President, I’m hoping to get some sweet VIP treatment at the President’s house in 2022. ;)

When I got home I helped stir the cabbage dish they were making. First you stir-fry onions in oil. Then tomatoes are added until they boil down to a saucy consistency. Cabbage is stirred into the tomato mixture, and once that is close to done, carrots and green peppers are added as well. Oh, and of course salt. They LOVE salt in TZ. Sometimes a little too much, and that’s saying something coming from me! While cooking I found out that my kaka goes to Educare Secondary School, my dada Jacky goes to Morogoro Secondary School, and my dada Priska goes to Primary School (forget the name of that one!). The school I’m interning at is private, so I was wrong when I initially assumed my host sister went there.

I’ve been having stomach problems/a little vomiting. I’m not sure if it’s the food, the new environment, a combination of both, or something else. Tonight I had a better appetite than I did this morning. We had some really good chicken and cabbage (they’ve noticed I really like it), in addition to stewed plantains and rice. I went very light on the rice and quite heavy on the chicken and vegetables.  It seemed to help!

My sister has a pretty big goose-egg on her head. I had a talk with our country director about corporal punishment. Apparently I did the right thing by staying uninvolved, but it is a very different culture here.

Night!

June 19, 6:00 is 12:00 and 12:00 is 6:00.

 Today we had our first round of microteaching. It was harder than I thought it’d be and I felt a bit discouraged. I also found out there’s a good chance I’ll also be teaching low-level math, although I’m not super confident about my ability to do that.

We learned how to tell time in Swahili. They start the day at 6:00 a.m. rather than at 12:00 pm. The idea is that the day starts when the sun rises, and that night begins when the sun sets. So:

6:00 a.m. American time is kumi na mbili asubuhi, or 12:00 in the morning Swahili time.

7:00 a.m.  American time is moja asubuhi, or 1:00 in the morning Swahili time.

8:00 a.m. American time is mbili asubuhi, or 2:00 in the morning Swahili time. 

12:00 p.m. American time is sita mchana, or 6:00 in the afternoon Swahili time.

7:00 p.m. American time is moja usiko, or 1:00 at night in Swahili time.

Etc. etc.

I understood it better before PJ explained it, but I still get it. I think it’s easiest to just imagine the time starting at 6:00 a.m. rather than translating it from an American clock schedule…or at least I think so. 6 am it is!

After our training today we went as a big group to two different bars/restaurants. I tried Redd’s, which is like spiked fruity ginger ale. We all got dinner, too, which came out a pretty different times since there were about 40 of us there. I got some fried rice that made me feel sick, but I’ve been getting sick the past couple days after eating. No fun. We had to take taxis home (cost 3,000 shillings per person in a group of 4) because the daladalas don’t run very late. Walking home sketched me out a little, mostly because the corn rustles in the breeze. Plus the pitch-black just makes me jumpy.

My host sister was punished tonight, but I’m not sure why. I had already gone in my room for the night, but I could hear most of it anyway. Corporal punishment is the norm here, but I’m still not used to it. She was screaming and pleading, and I will admit I felt unsure of what to do with myself while it was happening. They took her outside at one point, but I’m not sure if that was so I wouldn’t have to listen, or if they did that for a different reason. At training we actually had a pretty lengthy discussion about corporal punishment (in schools) today as well. Apparently the Peace Corps doesn’t mind if you hit kids on the head with chalky erasers, but isn’t okay with you harming or humiliating them. And technically it’s illegal to use corporal punishment according to the ministry. I’m pretty wary of using any method that wouldn’t be considered okay in the US…I’m hoping to find a disciplinary method that I’m comfortable with, that will also work here. Hopefully I’ll be respected and able to refocus my group when problems arise. There are a number of challenges here that don’t exist in the US:

1)   Most students don’t have textbooks.

2)   Many students also don’t have their own pens, pencils, rulers etc. They often toss things about the classroom in order to share resources.

3)   Reading is not part of the culture here. It seems as thought most schools don’t have libraries.

4)   Secondary school is taught in English, but most students don’t speak it well.

5)   Tin roofs = super noisy when it rains. There are also problems with no lighting on cloudy days (in schools without electricity), super noisy crows, harsh winds etc.

6)   Many students have to work at home and don’t have time for homework. Some will even miss classes for this reason, especially during harvest season.

7)   Classes are huge (average of 50-60 kids, but some with 80 students).

8)   Students pretend to be unprepared when in truth they may be disinterested.

9)   Malnutrition and fatigue are common problems that also affect school performance.

10)                   Cheating is easier because desks are so close together.

I’m tired and feeling ill so off to bed I go!

Usiku mwema! (Good night!)

June 18, Haggling Works

Today I realized I’ve made another very big mistake. I thought Denis was the very specific name of where we are, but they just call my CCT that because the school we intern at is “St. Denis”. I’m really stupid. I actually live in Kihona, or more specifically Majengo Mapya.

We took the daladala home today after getting sim cards and vouchers in town. I successfully haggled** for the first time. The price of a new sim card should be 500 shillings, but he tried to charge me 1000. I decided I’d go for 600, and he laughed at my negotiating determination, and decided to let me have it for the 500 shillings. I win!

The daladalas are truly an experience. Each one is different. They bang on the sides to signal getting on and off. They try to cram things in the back that have no way of fitting. Nonetheless, they still haven’t been as crowded as they made it sound like they’d be. I can still breathe while riding, even if the air doesn’t usually smell that good. Italy was worse sometimes.

I’m pretty thirsty right now but I try to avoid drinking at night and it’s already 7:30 pm. My pit latrine is in an outside building and I have to wake up my host sister at night if I need to go out because the locks are complicated. I feel really bad doing that, so I just try to make it until morning. In terms of using the choo, I’ve actually gotten pretty used to squatting already. I’m also pretty adjusted to the bucket baths, although I do miss a nice hot shower. Shaving my legs is also now a big priority since it’s been a little while. No one here cares, but I haven’t hit that point yet, so I think tomorrow will be the day.

My host baba is home from his trip. I remembered to greet him properly! I’m learning, even if I do sometimes feel slow and stupid. He ate with my host mama and kaka at dinner (the sisters ate afterwards.) I ate ugali with my hands again. It was very, very hot! You’re supposed to use it like a fork to pick up other things like the leafy greens. They also gave me a bowl of sauce to dip it in. I’m so full that I actually got a little sick from it. It didn’t help that they gave me juice at the end of the meal. They’re so hospitable that I feel bad being rude, but sometimes I really don’t need 1/3 of what they give me.

In other news, I found out I will be teaching Forms 1 & 2 in English (the bottom two levels in secondary school.) Tomorrow we start microteaching! I talked a volunteer who is a true redhead and she said that she actually uses her hair as a prize for students—they get to touch it when they finish their work. I wonder if I’ll do that, too!

June 17, Daladalas

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)

June 16, Blown power converter

The electricity here is super dirty. It makes me worry every time I plug something in. I think it killed my power converter, which sucks because that’s how I’ve been charging my laptop, kindle, camera battery, and iPhone. I guess I’ll need to whip out my solar charger while we go to CCT…I don’t want to leave my electronics out charging in the sun around my house. Pretty much would be a terrible idea. I’m largely disappointed by this development, but hopefully I can get a new surge protector soon. I’d get one via mail, but that will take 3 months.

Today we did more Kiswahili at the school with PJ, our language and culture teacher. Afterwards I took some pictures of sunflowers and chickens (which are everywhere in my village) and then we went to Michelle’s house. Her house/room is really nice. She even has a mirror and a wardrobe. (There are no mirrors anywhere in my house, and my one piece of furniture is a drawer-less desk. This is pretty normal I’ve been informed.) It was nice to sit and chat for a while, but I do need to take a trip into Morogoro to go to an Internet café…. and apparently now to buy a new converter.

I’m still confused why my whole family doesn’t eat together or at the same time. Jackie, my older host sister, never eats, and today my mama ate an hour after I did. My kaka was home, so he ate with me while we watched Nat. Geo TV. Apparently Channel 2 here carries some adventure shows, including one about a British guy who drives around and cooks in a van. Other people from the neighborhood sat in the living room while we ate. There are always a bunch of kids in there. It was really cute to watch one little girl play with two stuffed animals and have them talk back in forth in Swahili. The kids here are all very adorable and most of them address me with the formal greeting you give adults: Shikamoo. When we were walking some little kids also shouted in English at us, which was pretty surprising and impressive. It’s far less cute to me when adults do it…especially when pushy men shout out daladala windows.

I had “chips” for the first time (French fries done in a pan). We also had the usual rice and beans, green leafy vegetable, and fruit juice. Same deal with our lunch, except we had oranges instead of the juice today. Tanzanians are not afraid of carbs and big butts, that is for sure!

Last night I dreamt I was being covered in thousands and thousands of ants, but couldn’t move until they had finished running out of my mosquito net. I thought it was really happening and I’m pretty sure I whimpered and cried a little about it while half asleep. Pretty pathetic. The malaria meds they give us can induce vivid (aka horrifying) dreams. I normally have weird dreams, but the meflo makes them truly quite trippy. Peoples’ faces melting off, scary social situations, bugs eating my stomach etc. There are a lot of bugs and diseases here, but so far I’ve stayed away from the roaches, and they’ve mostly avoided me. One is camping out in my room somewhere, but I don’t feel like finding his exact location under the bed.

Hoping my bucket bath will be warmer than usual tomorrow. I think they are all going to mass, but I’m not sure. I’m fine with getting my own water, but I’m worried about burning myself. They just pick the big pot of boiling water up with their bare hands. I am not nearly as awesome. I’m also impressed how many men and women carry things on their heads here. HEAVY things! Westerners just don’t have any cool skills like that anymore. I will say that cutting boards and potholders are nice, though. And shower nozzles.

Baadaye! (Later!)

June 15, The Not-So-Lost Mzungu

“Mzungu” is the word for a white foreigner here. Today when we were walking as a group in my village, a number of bus drivers clearly thought we were a group of tourists who were too stupid to find their way around. ( Majengo Mapya is not a tourist town at all, so it’d be weird for us to be sight seeing there. Mzungu may or may not have been shouted several times.) Needless to say, I was stalked by a bus…. or two.

I practiced saying greetings to people as we walked. Most responded, many laughed at me/us, and some spoke in English. Greetings are very important here in terms of maintaining social relationships. A typical exchange might go like this:

Hujambo? (Are you doing well/how are you?)

Sijambo. (I’m good/no problems)

Mambo? (What’s up?)

Poa/Safi/Shega/Freshi/Mzuka/Salama etc. (Cool, Clean)

Habari yako? (How are you/what’s the news with you?)

Nzuri/njema/salama. (Good)

Habari za leo? (How is today/what’s the news of today?)

Nzuri/njema/salama.

Habari za nyumbani? (How is home/what’s the news at home?)

Nzuri/njema/salama.

Habari za kazi? (How is work/what’s the news at work?)

Nzuri/njema/salama.

Habari za mchana? (How is the afternoon going/what’s the news of the afternoon)

Salama? (Peacefully)

Salama.

Mzuka? (Literally: Monster?)

Mzuka.

Etc. etc. Sometimes they drop the “Habari” and just say “za ___”.

We did a lot of grammar work today at the secondary school where my CBT group will be interning. (CBT =Community Based Training. Basically every village has 5 volunteers in it, and we split into those groups during certain parts of training. The students were doing exams and are about to have a long break, so we didn’t actually meet any of them. They did have nice bluish-green uniforms from what I could see. It’s both a day and boarding school, but I’m not clear if that’s where my host sister Jackie goes to school. She had on a uniform-style green skirt today, so I’d guess that she does….

Tonight I ate ugali, the main staple of Tanzania. (Corn & Water that is very, very thick and white.) I was served 10 minutes before anyone else, and they were super excited that I was not only eating ugali, but also using my right hand and no silverwear to do it. I’m starting to fit in already! Priska and my mama eventually joined me, so I felt less awkward about shoveling cabbage into my mouth with my fingers. My appetite was a bit better today—I have been feeling very sick all the time, but today I ate more normally. It was also the first time that at both lunch and dinner the meat I had wasn’t too chewy to eat. Chicken is always fine, but I’ve kind of sworn off eating beef here. Pork, apparently, can still be quite good, as demoed by the two meals I had today. Too bad I can’t say it. My face contorts a little and it’s a hot mess when I pronounce it. Good thing chicken is just kuku. I’m contemplating if I’d be willing to raise chickens and potentially slaughter them. So far I haven’t even managed to kill the cockroaches, so I might need to work up to full-out animal slaughter. I just started by crushing the strange bug that tried to crawl in my bed. Looked a bit like a tiny gray lobster…. All  I need now is some potato salad and I’ve got myself a Tanzanian-Maine feast!

Kesho! (Tomorrow! –shortened from Tuttaonana Kesho—see you tomorrow)