A few photos

Here are a few photos from Dar to Tabora to whet your appetite for the 200+ more I’ll add to flickr this weekend….

These are the cabins at the Salvation Army in Dar Es Salaam. Kind of pretty for a boot camp. 

 

Here are me and Siwan, my new best friend in Africa. We left the Salvation Army to go explore the city. Look at how pale we are on day one in the hot hot sun! Maji maji tafadali (water water please).

 This was the bathroom that had us screaming and whimpering for the 7 days at camp. It was dirty and full of cockroaches or mendes in Kiswahili.

 

 On Wednesday of that week I decided to be a brave girl and go hunt down those mendes. Armed with Doom (bug spray) I chased a giant bug back into its hole in the wall near the sink. Big mistake. I had disrupted their home and the battlecry was loud and far throughout the cockroach community. Siwan and I danced around the myriad of mendes multiplying on the walls, in our beds, over our suitcases. We Doomed until we had most of them contained in the bathroom whereupon it seemed only right to seal it for good with a wooden chair and Doom-sprayed towels. Neither of us slept much that night for fear that they would pull together and push against our baracade and cover our mosquito nets with bugs. Ewwww.

On the last day of Kiswahili class we cut and wrapped our new kangas, the popular dress in Tanzania.  The two girls to the left were headed to Mwanza to work at an orphanage and then there’s Siwan and me on the end who were going to Tabora.

On our last night in Dar we went to see “traditional tribal dancing”.  Next to the Movin Pick, the luxury hotel, there was a small stage and plastic chairs set up for the busloads of white people to watch and pay money throughout the show. It felt very exploitive for both the dancers and the audiance but then maybe I’m just a jaded New Yorker.  Nonetheless the dancing was fabulous.

Here’s a picture of Tabora from the plane. I was a bit concerned that even as we got near I couldn’t find a single man-made object from above. Hmmm. 

This is a picture of the compound grounds from our front porch as a storm starts to roll in. As you can see we have some great coconut trees. They tell me that we’ll be able to eat our own home grown coconuts in a few weeks when they are ripe.

 

In Tanzania men and women hold hands – same sex hand holding. It is taboo for men and women to show any public affection but men are perfectly comfortable holding hands with their male friends and dancing with them at the clubs.

Here’s a nice road in Tabora where my housemates Adrienne and Siwan exhibit the local custom.

The market in town is about a half hour walk from the Volunteer compound. This is the vegetable portion of the market which is quite nice. But to get here you have to navigate past the chicken cages, slaughter house, and hanging animal parts. Circle of life.

 

On our first day in Tabora, Siwan and I tried to order 2 sodas and that’s it. Somehow we accidentally ordered this bit ‘o meat too. We think it might have been hippo (the conclusion we came to after consulting our swahili/english dictionaries).

That’s Adrienne, me and my little friend Masele at the HAPO Resource Centre.

 

And finally, my little buddy Selemani. He can’t speak but that works out just fine for us since my Swahili still needs work.

 

Wild Africa

Greetings from Africa! It’s been a very busy past few weeks with all the missing visas, missing cellphone service, missing internet cafes and a lockdown in Dar Es Salaam. My apologies for the tardy delay. As I type this entry I am perched upon the sole plastic chair in my bedroom at the Volunteer Africa compound. Should I ever find an internet connection higher than dial-up I may just be able to upload a photo or two of this 5 bedroom house staffed with 2 goofy security guards, the lackadaisical cook/maid and the missing amenities like oh you know furniture, water and electricity. But I digress.

My past two weeks in Tanzania have been spent learning Swahili or Kiswhahili as the natives call it and getting my bearings in the somewhat remote town of Tabora. It’s beautiful here, warm summer weather (wicked thunderstorms too) and tons of tree-lined backroads. I imagine the 25 minute walk into town will be quite enjoyable as I get used to the paparazzi. White people have a bit of celebrity clout here because they’re all rich and smart – or so says Michael, the language/culture teacher in Dar. Ha!

So it’s not too surprising that upon my arrival in Tabora I found out from the former volunteers that my new best friends were to be the other white people that live here. The mzungus (‘white’ in Swahili) are here to do missionary work and are all over the age of 50. In our club we have representing: a doctor, a professor, an architect, and a crazy old man who can navigate these pot-holed dirt roads better than any native. These are the people that provide me my malaria drugs under the table and tell me horror stories about what happens to white people if they offend the Tanzanian culture. I like these bible bangers but every dinner with them means a restless night listening to lord knows what kind of creepy crawlies sound off in wild Africa.

And speaking of dangers, I’m just certain I’m going to get malaria. I’m totally paranoid about it. I take my weekly Larium pills and hope that I don’t get depressed (it’s been known to have that minor side effect along with ‘vivid dreams’). I’ve treated my mosquito net so that supposedly any living thing besides me of course will die instantly if it touched the net. I’ll have to send a cockroach up the side to test the net. But the locals get malaria at least 3 times a year so my chances to avoid one bad bug bite are not very good. Perhaps Cindy my gray-haired supplier can get me some Paxil to counteract the anxiety of Larium. Kidding, Mom.

But those are just the nights. During the day I can spend my time focused on helping plan games for the 13 children that patiently teach me Swahili every afternoon. They are all kids who once lived on the street and now spend their days in school or giggling at the HAPO center. I’m not exactly a natural with the kids but I’ve got a few favorites that seem to have latched onto me. Again pics of Selemani, my little deaf friend, and Masele, the 6-year old HIV sweetheart will be uploaded when I get the online speed.

Speaking of online speed, I was able to make a breakthrough today and get a concrete date set when the Volunteer Africa/HAPO office will be wired with broadband – Feb. 19. For Africa, that’s a really quick turnaround! In no time I’ll be able to perch on my plastic chair and type not into a Word doc but into my online blog. Say a little prayer for me.

Tutaonano kesho (till tomorrow…)