A typical week

A short list of things that affect my every day:
- the damn neighbor rooster that has the most horrendous call. The first time I heard it, about a week ago at maybe 5:30am, I thought my neighbors were slaughtering the poor thing. Nope – lucky me, this bird is still cock-a-doodling.
- on the other hand, I have the sweetest neighbor cow, a young lad (actually maybe it’s a girl?) whose seldom but very low moo kind of makes me giggle.
- applying loads of anti-mosquito spray to my feet and spf 50 to my arms and face (because of my attire of long skirts and t-shirts, I will be sure to come home with one good-looking farmers tan).
- taking almost freezing cold showers. Yes, we are lucky enough to have a water heater in this house, but gosh, I need to find someway to maintain the JV value of simple living.
- realizing that my butt hurts because of how often I use my bike. (did I mention we have bikes??)
- fighting with my mosquito net to get out of bed every morning
- trying to find new exciting ways to cook rice and vegetables.
- waving to the children who scream, “Mzungu, mzungu!” Mzungu is a term used for white people, and it is sometimes considered derogatory, but honestly after being here I think it depends on who uses it. But coincidentally, “mzungu” translates literally as “person who walks in circles.” (Hey, I can’t be too mad; sometimes it feels like I am!)

Speaking of mzungu, the cutest thing happened the other day, and honestly I’m surprised it hasn’t happen sooner. I was walking with Sean and David my tutor to the Jesuit residence and a group of girls from about 4 to 7yrs were about to pass us. As they did, they ran over yelling “mzungu!” and proceeded to shake our hands. Then these girls reached up and touched my hair. You know, this could have been weird or made me uncomfortable, but it was completely the opposite. They had such innocent faces and were so excited. It was nice.

On Tuesday Fr. Shirima let Sean and I join him as he went to say Mass at a local village. The Jesuits do this often; they say daily Mass in someone’s home. We showed up to a home where the outside porch was covered in Catholic themed kitenge (cloths), candles and buckets full of water. There were many kids there and a few parents sitting on huge mats on the ground. They were singing as they were waiting for Fr. Shirima to arrive. I met the most beautiful bibi (grandmother). I couldn’t help but look at her during the Mass. You can tell that each of her deep wrinkles tells a different tale of her long life. Even as a frail old woman, she looked so strong and powerful. Wow. And what made this beautifully personal Mass even more moving was a surprise (well, at least to me) baptism. You’d think that having these two white strangers share this intimate experience would be strange, and yet it is always exactly the opposite. It is such an honor to be welcomed the way we are by the people of Tanzania.

On Wednesday we had off from the Youth Center because it was a Muslim holiday. (In Tanzania, Muslim holidays are national days off.) Another teacher at the center, Erick, is a student at the University of Dodoma. He has been talking about taking us on a tour there, so we decided this would be the perfect day. Peter the Jesuit drove Erick, David, Sean, Jana, and I across town to the university. This school is so big and really spread out. Rumor has it that it was hastily constructed in an effort to help with the presidential campaign… We took lots of pictures together there. It was a nice tour.

(Random thought: I ate rabbit the other day. The Jesuits had it for lunch, and hell, when else will I try rabbit? It was kind of good! Don’t tell Aunt Ruthie, though, I know how much she liked that neighbor bunny.)

Because Sean and I are both pretty new to cooking, we’ve been desperate to learn from anyone who is willing. David helped us cook that banana dish I already mentioned. Our friend Juma helped us make chipsi mayai which is pretty much like a French fry omlette. And Martin the scholastic showed us how to make chipati, which is a naan or pita like flat-bread. The food here is so good. I’m keeping track of all these recipes so I can make it later.

So one of my absolute most favorite nights so far has been this past Wednesday night. Peter met a family because of their common Ugandan heritage. This family is Muslim and because of the holiday, they invited him to dinner at their home. He asked if it would be okay to bring guests and of course, they were thrilled to have us. IT WAS AWESOME. First, this is the family of one of my students – an extremely bright girl who I was already starting to favor (shh, don’t tell the others!). They were so welcoming and I had such a nice time there. First, they insisted on showing us the traditional way of having a meal. So they put out a mat on the floor, set the food on the mat, and invited us to sit around it. We washed our hands with a pitcher and basin and then ate with our hands. The mother and her friend wrapped me in a kitenge, saying it was easier to sit if I was wearing one, and she was happy to explain that women wear these often around the house. After eating an incredible feast (literally, feast: there was chicken, beef, two types of spinach-like veggies, a pea dish, a cabbage dish, multicolored rice…), we sat around their living room and chatted. I obviously asked how to make some of the dishes and Neema, the mother, insisted that they take me to the market someday, help me buy things and then show me how to cook. She also insisted I keep the kitenge, and said she would take me to her tailor to have it finished and to make a dress. They said the next time we come we will only speak in Kiswahili, knowing that is the only and best way to learn (yikes!). They sent us home with a bag full of eggs from their own chickens. What a night.

And did I ever mention how much I adore the way people say my name? This family emphatically called me “Laura” with a unique roll on the ‘r’. It’s perfect!