Kipilefti

Classes are over for the foreseeable future: midterms, then break. Later this week Bret and I are going to retry the hike that almost killed me a few months ago. I have hope, though: no mud this time (although there are dust and sun); I think I’m in better shape; and I’ll be carrying less.

It’s the season of clear blue skies. In the mornings there are often clouds in the valleys, sometimes clouds in the sky, but they former are gone by a few hours after sunrise, the latter by noon. In the afternoons the sun shines cold and bright and clear.

It’s the season of no rain. The soil that was mud a few months ago dries up, floats away. The roads are thick with dust. Walking, everyone is upwind of the road so they’re not covered when a car or bike goes by. Everything has layers of tan over it. It gets in through cracks in the windows, under the doors. It gets into my socks when I’m wearing shoes. I sweep every day and every day it’s dirty. And, just recently, it’s started to be the season of wind as well, which combines horribly with the dust to make an often-intolerable environment on the roads and anywhere where there are dirt paths where people walk.

It’s the season of passable roads. Dust is better than mud as far as cars are concerned, and the Chinese are building a decent road so they can exploit the natural resources out here as efficiently as possible. Cars speed down the main road through town, leaving roostertails of dust behind.

It’s the season of cutting down the trees. It happens all year, of course, but surely it makes more sense to do it when it’s easy to get the lumber out and to market, when it won’t be ruined by the rain. On my walk to Bulongwa last week I saw, with regret, that my favorite place near town had been destroyed: there was a beautiful lush green lawn with tall pines around it, but the pines are cut and the lawn littered with the pieces that nobody wanted.

Last, and least important generally, it’s the season of sugar cane. Huge tangles of it clutter one of the areas of the market every few days, waiting to be put into storage; people walk with it, using it like walking sticks (it’s maybe 1″ in diameter and looks like bamboo). They chew it constantly, and white chewed-out mouthfuls are strewn on the ground. It’s frankly amazing to me that any Tanzanians have teeth, given the sugarcane and the way they take their chai (as much sugar as possible) and their love of candy. Oddly, when we Americans share sweet baked goods, as often as not they eat them politely but without enthusiasm. Mystery!

Tingatinga (who I now think is a boy cat like Pol) stands on my blanketed legs, mews a tiny disconsolate mew. I put down my book and pet him for a moment, talk to him, and he moves up to sit on my stomach and looks at me, then curls up in front of my nose. I gently shove him down to my legs again, where he stretches out contentedly. I pick up the book again, listening with half an ear to the mix I’m thinking about. Pol climbs the bars in the windows, reaches the top, turns around and climbs down headfirst. He joins his brother on my legs and they’re both asleep in seconds.

This week has actually been pretty great. Moderately monotonous work requiring small amounts of thinking, just like I like it, setting up the lab; minimal teaching (handed back last term’s exams, gave out candy to those who did well, went over answers). The only real teaching I’ve done is of my fellow teachers, who requested a computer crash course, and they’re actually very gratifying students. They care about the material, they’re motivated, they ask questions when they don’t understand, they explain things to each other! Also there are only six of them. It’s basically perfect–too bad that next week I’ll be back to classes of 40+ apathetic kids.

My class periods have been cut from 11 80-minute periods a week to 8, because I’m no longer teaching Form III. I’m sad, because I liked them best, but also really pleased about it, since I think the number of periods I was teaching last term contributed to how much I disliked teaching. Plus, with the new schedule I teach one period each on Monday and Friday, and three each on Wednesday and Thursday, and I can easily switch my day off from Tuesday to Monday or Friday, which will make traveling much nicer. So overall I’m happy about the change.

Quick question for those of you [non-family] who want to see me while I’m home this winter: would New Year’s in Philly or its environs work well? I was thinking I’d be here in Tanzania for New Year’s but it turns out my training doesn’t start until the 11th, and going back to site and then returning to Dar is silly (four days of travel for fewer days than that at site), and staying in Dar for a week would be expensive. Post thoughts in the comments, please!

(Confidential to those of you buying my plane ticket: we should talk!)

I get home to frantic cats, desperate for food and attention, in that order. I attend to the food right away and they’re occupied for a good two minutes before they start following me around as I settle into the house, rubbing up against my legs and mewing plaintively. Unpacking toiletries, I notice that they’ve spurned their litterboxes for the corner by the shower room; cleaning up cat feces, I manage to clog the toilet; hauling buckets of water in to unclog the toilet, I somehow bend the latch on the kitchen door.

Whoever built my house, in their infinite shoddy-building-ness, managed to break off the heads of the screws holding the locking mechanism into the door on the end, where the latch is. So I can’t just take out the locking mechanism and repair it. Thankfully, this is the only door in the house where the screw securing the latch is accessible without taking the whole mechanism out, so I remove the latch and bend it back into shape.

Screwing it back in, I lose the screw into the mechanism. There is no hope of retrieving it.

I look at the various parts of my door on the kitchen table and sigh. The cats don’t share my despair: they’re loving this opportunity to explore the kitchen without being chased out (normally they’re not allowed in). I really don’t want to go into the market and try to find a new screw: I’m tired and need a break from people. But if I don’t the cats will be in and out of the kitchen and will soon find that there are things in there that are good to eat, so just leaving it until tomorrow is not an option. After a little hunting, I determine that a screw from a socket adapter will work, if it’s shorter. I cut it down with a hacksaw, replace the latch, re-screw the handles, and the door is fixed. I fix the toilet, too, for good measure, then finish unpacking.

And now I’m on my bed, the cats sitting on my stomach together purring, contented at last.

Annie has been on nine types of transportation in this country (plane, taxi, boat, Land Rover/Landcruiser, lumber lorry, pick-up, bus, coaster, dala-dala), the last six of them modes of transportation locals used. “You travel a lot,” she told me, clarifying that she meant that we travel for a long time rather than frequently.

And it’s true: to get to the 4th of July party we got on a coaster at 6 A.M., got off in Njombe around 1.30, got on another coaster to Mafinga, arrived there around 4.30, then waited for a lorry that never came and wound up in a cab instead, arriving at maybe 8.30 at night. We stayed for two nights, then spent two more leisurely days coming home again. Soon we’ll be on the road again, heading up to Iringa so she can get on her bus to Dar. Then I’ll get a flu shot in Njombe, and then be back at site for good, at least until September break. It’ll definitely be nice to be home at site for a while.

Not that the trip wasn’t nice: Zanzibar was beautiful (except for the obnoxious touts who hounded our every step) and I loved just walking around Stonetown; the animals in Ruaha were amazing; and it was good to have my family here, if for a short time. They stayed in Makete for a night and then we all went to Mama Jully’s village, where we were overwhelmed with Tanzanian kindness and hospitality.

Before the family trip I saw some Mbeya folks and went up to Lushoto, which is incredibly beautiful, then spent a few days with my host family in Morogoro. It’s been a very busy few weeks. Apologies to all of you who wrote me e-mails/letters/&c. and have not yet received a response. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had Internet access!

We woke at 4.15 so we could get good seats on the 5 A.M. bus. We were out the door by 4.30, but unfortunately so was Ting, slipping out while we were distracted, so we spent the next half hour chasing her around the outside of the house with flashlights, thankful that it wasn’t the all-black cat who escaped. She eventually took refuge in the kitchen and we were on our way, getting on the bus just as it began its 5.00 drive-through-town-and-honk routine.
I sort of love the early bus: seeing the sun rise over the mountains makes waking up worth it. The full moon was huge and bright above the pastel sky as the day came, and I wished I were driving, so I could stop and photograph the tawny hills with the waxing sky above. Sometimes I forget how beautiful these mountains are; living here makes me jaded.
Annie’s shoulder was warm against mine as she nodded off, woke, nodded off again. I, eternally unable to sleep on any sort of transport, kept staring out the window, transfixed, watching the light of the rising sun slant its way across the mountains.
All the plants within ten feet of the road are dull tan, covered in dust. All except the flowers, which somehow stay dust-free, startling dots of color in the otherwise monotone landscape. I can tell when vehicles are coming because they send up clouds of dust behind them, visible on the curvy mountain roads. I know that when we arrive our bags, stowed in the bottom compartment, will be covered in dust.

Right now I’m back in Morogoro for the first time since training, in the shadow of the Uluguru Mountains. It’s strange–but good–to see my homestay family again (I’m staying with them), to walk the same streets I walked when I was learning Swahili, talking to the same people. It’s good to be back, and my Swahili has definitely improved.

The trip started with a weekend in Mbeya. A bunch of folks were there for a girls’ conference planning meeting, so I got to catch up with them, which was great fun. Anita and I made delicious food (pizza with mushrooms, green peppers, onions; enchiladas) and somewhat sated the cheese craving I’d been feeling for those two months I spent at site, cheese-less. Then I headed up to Lushoto to visit Theresa, Nick, and Leigh. There were four or five other PCVs from my class visiting too, so we all hung out. Lushoto is incredibly beautiful: the views from Irente Viewpoint are unbelievable. Leigh’s site is, sad to say, prettier than mine, but I think mine is prettier than Nick’s so it evens out. At any rate, I’m definitely hoping to go back. I had a wonderful time.

And that’s my trip thus far. Later this week I’ll head to Dar to meet family (less Helen). I can’t wait to see them!

Snippets:

Hanging out at the market on Sunday afternoon, a few friends there are in hysterics over my description of what I imagine my cats are saying to me at various points in the day. Half of the humor is my bizarre personification of these animals that most Tanzanians are afraid of, half is probably my Swahili mistakes.

Three children on the simplest of see-saws: a piece of wood and a ledge in the ground, up and down. “My turn!” says the fourth, watching.

I’m getting sawdust for the cats’ litter. The big pile I usually get it from is damp in some places and on fire in others, but I start to scoop from it anyway. “Don’t use that,” says a carpenter working nearby, “it’s on fire!” He takes me into his workshop and, after asking what size sawdust I want, fills my bag for me.

“I’m going to town tomorrow,” my friend at the market says. “What should I bring back for you?” I think for a moment. “A cucumber,” I tell her. Two days later, at tea-time I’m lying in bed with a plate heaped with thin slices of cucumber, a mug of Earl Grey tea, and the Gabriel Garcia Marquez novella that came out a few years ago, listening to the cats chase each other around the house.