I'm Already Missing . . .

I’ve come to loathe photographs (and not just when they are really bad ones of me like the one in the entry below). No, I don't like them because I know they won’t capture the grandeur of a scene, or in any way conjure for the viewer the sense of wonder, or shock, or awe or whatever emotion flooded me when I rushed to take it. The details are lost.

I hope to never, but know I will -- save for these few ramblings -- forget the feel of the red clay inches deep on my shoes and the daily regime of wiping said shoes on the grate provided. I wish I wouldn’t lose the thought but soon enough won’t be able to recall the name of the woman who cleaned the concrete floors throughout the day as we tried in vain not to track the mud. We’ve had a running battle of etiquette with her. Shel tsk-tsking our removal of shoes at the office door because we were taught not to bring the mess inside and then dutifully and against our wishes retrieving those shoes, cleaning them thoroughly and returning them to our naked feet. Our dual “polle sanas” (“I’m very sorry”) drowning out the other.

Other details sure to be lost are the sight of the other women who clean our homes sweeping the dirt on the “lawn” out front, bent backed and with straw, handle-less brooms in hand. Or the rim of brown that’s left in the pot when we boil the water for eating and drinking.

I’ll have photographs of elephants and lions but I’ll never be able to recreate the smell of the African male sans deodorant in his immaculate slacks and ironed cotton shirt. Nor will the sound of two introverted speakers become more animated by the syllable ever be shared.

Meryl Streep’s voice rang through my head the first weeks I was here. She may have had a farm but I’ve had a compound. Two houses, three bedrooms each, two bathrooms – one Western toilet and one not -- a den and a small kitchen. I’ve cooked more in the weeks here than I did all of last year.

My housemates are half my age and in some cases have twice my experience. I marvel at their adventuresome spirits and their willingness to take a crowded bus halfway across the city knowing only the words to “Does this go to the hospital?” Or their cleverness in picking up the vowel-ladened language with such ease.

“I’m already missing you,” the country director calls out each day the office manager begins the lock up for the night.

I’m feeling that now I guess.

I’m already missing the sounds of the crows cawing each morning, the tiny, silly bird that bangs at least ten times on my window as the sun comes up. I’m trying to listen really listen as a result. Today I heard flies buzzing in mass along the path I walk toward work. They were investing in yet another pile of dung.

The corn growing across the street. The cows that are penned in about 20 feet from my office window. The blue sky serving as a background to the Tanzanian flag flapping above the nearby government building. The faces of the kids as they call out “Hello” and then ask for pens. The school uniforms using various shades of blue and either orange or brown. Kongas. Lots and lots of kongas. Women walking along the streets dressed in bright patterns with sacks of rice on their heads or buckets or whatever is in need of transport that day. The heat on my neck as I walk the one paved street in the town, followed by more of those children.

The list continues but like that inadequate, imaginary photo that won’t convey what I want, neither do these words.

Yep, I’m already missing Tanzania.

But I’ve been missing home just as much. And in less than two weeks, I’m heading that way. Until then, there are more photos and word pictures to compile.

For those of you waiting for me, remember the old slide shows folks used to make you endure in years gone by? Remember? Ok, then prepare to be really bored! Because I've got photos to share and stories to tell.

Lions, No Tigers, No Bears

We saw these two at the Crater. Don't believe me? Look over my shoulder in the next one.

I know these are small but I had to make it quick and compact in order to upload it without it costing a fortune. One of my fellow vols is a great photographer and will be giving me his best so you can count on much better than these when I return to the U.S. Until then, these were actual shots taken by me with ... yes, my phone!

THe Birds Sing for Everyone Else . . .

Friday began with my discovering that I’d lost one of the few pairs of earrings I brought. Oh well, I hadn’t included anything of great value in my packing.

At work, I learned that I had mislabeled 67 slides, so I explained to my Pennsylvanian co-worker the Southerner’s meaning behind the fact that I was having a “bless my heart” moment.

Then we found that the new color printer’s driver wouldn’t load on my Mac. Neither would it load properly on my co-worker’s Dell or the office manager’s PC. Without instructions (they weren’t included), we methodically (I have mentioned that all the volunteers excluding me are science-oriented, haven’t I?) explored every rationale for why the printer wouldn’t print. By lunch time we still had no answers.

I was now in the mood for carbs. The other vols decided to reheat the tomato soup we’d had the night before but having been the creator of said soup I had smelled it for quite some time and couldn’t fathom another go at it. My California connection and I decided to head for Parrot, a cheap place for good basic rice and meat.

But first a stop at the house because dehydration (I know! I’m supposed to be drinking more water at this altitude!) had left my stomach in knots and I wanted to check in with the Western toilet for a few minutes. That’s when I learned that we still had not received our refill of the water tank. And I had to turn the vols back to the second house in our compound (where the fridge is and where the soup had been stored) because we also still didn’t have a new full gas tank for cooking. Of course, all of this was after we had finally retrieved the keys to get into these houses after the woman who cleans them had determined that our hiding place was evidently too obvious and had locked them INSIDE one of the houses.

My fellow carb hunter and I started heading toward the oasis of food that was intended to make this day brighter and that’s with IT happened.

I felt and heard it. The feeling suggested someone had thrown a rock. The direction from which it came and the subsequent oozing on my fingers when I reached for what I thought might be the wound confirmed that no one in Karatu was stoning me, but a bird had done his business in my hair.

I’m wondering, dear reader, at this point what would you have done?

I directed my friend to carry on and turned quickly around to go wash my hair in what limited water we had on the premises. With my shiny clean hair, I marched to the other house and prepared a delicious fried egg and cheese sandwich.

I then proceeded with my fellow workers to tackle that printer problem with gusto. The day had started anew. I couldn’t continue to catalog how bad it was. The negative energy had already resulted in a handful of … well crap!

Thanks to minds sharper than mine, we finally got one computer to talk to that printer, finally got one set of colored prints to come out right (we now have 79 more sets at 67 pages to go!) and the day ended with me winning one game of Scrabble and one game of Farkle and dinner at Bytes (where we get cold drinks and meat that I can not only eat but last night’s lamb was so tender I could cut it with a spoon.)

All this reminded me of my brother Bart. He used to frequently remark that “the birds sang for everyone else but shit on him.” He said it though, with great irony, because he was one of the most content men I knew or have ever known.

Shit happens, I think he knew, but your response is up to you. As for me and my house, we had a good laugh and then a very good day.

Different, Yet the Same

When I was traveling in Vietnam, we often heard the comment, "Same, same." Which was the equivalent of "no problem" and "yeah, yeah." Tourists were even found wearing t-shirts with the phrase on it.

I thought of that when my brother who works in the Appalachia area of the states told me of seeing “old school satellite dishes converted into the world’s largest bird baths. Or in some cases a wading pool for the little ones." He also said that he was working to secure a grant for a family in upper east Tennessee "so that a well can be purchased for their home. They did not have an indoor bathroom until this summer. They still do not have water running to the house. They have a foot path out back where they travel to the creek and draw the water needed."

Much like the house next door to where I'm staying in Tanzania.

Same, same indeed.

Stuff You Might Find Interesting . . .

- We boil the sandy brown tap water and then filter it or use bottled water in cooking. Simple things like not boiling water are causing disease and death here. I try to remember that when I get frustrated that the filtered water drips out rather than flows.

- I brush my teeth with bottle water as well. We go through a lot of bottled water.

- Sleeping surrounded by a mosquito net is strangely comforting. Reminds me of camping out in my bedroom as a kid under a sheet.

- "Squatty potties" are the norm. We have them at work and they are at most businesses. The guest house where I stay has one Western toilet and one with standing room only!

- Radios and TVs are rare. Our only connect with news is the Internet and English newspapers. If you haven't read the headlines on MSN or AOL in a while, you should do it. Read with an eye toward what folks who aren't from the U.S. might think of us. One thought has to be that we are worshiping at the feet of Britney.

- Most homes and businesses have grates at the door for you to scrape the 2 or more inches of red mud that will cake on your shoes walking from home to work or the market or wherever after a rain.

- The mud is really more like clay and many, many houses are made out of mud bricks. I'm assured the rain doesn't affect the stability of these homes. Still it's an odd sight to see mud houses and folks walking everywhere with cell phones.

- The average life span in Tanzania (due to the child morbidity rate) is 47 years old. Yet some can't get their pensions until 55. (I told you that you might find this stuff interesting!)

- I learned last week that probably all the staff I work with has malaria. I was then assured without even a pause for breath that it was mostly likely in my blood by now as well. Seems the biggest killer in this country just doesn't discriminate even if you take your meds and sleep under the nets. We as the informed ones simply sleep easier knowing that those meds are available. For some ... probably too many ... they're not. So that's why I'm here ... to insure that more and more become part of the informed.

Seems Like Good Advice to Me

We spend our down time watching DVDs (they get 30 films on one disc and they usually come themed like Angelina vs. Julia Roberts), walking (one or two are runners but not me), playing games, cooking and reading. I received Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert as a gift (thanks T) and I have captured a few thoughts from it to share with you for your reading (and maybe thought-provoking) pleasure.

The first I’ll share comes from the author’s experience in India. A New Zealand “plumber/poet” has listened as Gilbert claims to want true resolution to a bad relationship but hasn’t found it. He takes her to an Ashram rooftop and indicates she’s to climb to the top of the minaret. The view is of the entire river valley with mountains and farmland stretching before her and soon the stars will be out. He passes her a page with the following:

INSTRUCTIONS FOR FREEDOM
1. Life’s metaphors are God’s instructions.
2. You have just climbed up and above the roof. There is nothing between you and the Infinite. Now, let go.
3. The day is ending. It’s time for something that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful. Now, let go.
4. Your wish for resolution was a prayer. Your bein ghere is God’s response. Let go, and watch the stars come out – on the outside and on the inside.
5. With all your heart, ask for grace, and let go.
6. With all your heart, forgive hi, FORGIVE YOURSELF, and let him go.
7. Let your intention be freedom from useless suffering. Then, let go.
8. Watch the heat of day pass into the cool night. Let go.
9. When the karma of a relationship is done, only love remains. It’s safe. Let go.
10. When the past has passed from you at last, let go. Then climb down and begin the rest of your life. With great joy.

Later, Gilbert concludes, “This is what rituals are for. We do spiritual ceremonies as human beings in order to create a safe resting place for our most complicated feelings of joy or trauma, so that we don’t have to haul those feelings around with us forever, weighing us down. We all need such places of ritual safekeeping. And I do believe that if your culture or tradition doesn’t have the specific ritual you’re craving, then you are absolutely permitted to make up a ceremony of your own devising, fixing your own broken-down emotional systems with all the do-it-yourself resourcefulness of a generous plumber/poet. If you bring the right earnestness to your homemade ceremony, God will provide the grace. And that is why we need God.”
(p. 184-85, 187)

Seems Like Good Advice to Me

We spend our down time watching DVDs (they get 30 films on one disc and they usually come themed like Angelina vs. Julia Roberts), walking (one or two are runners but not me), playing games, cooking and reading. I received Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert as a gift (thanks T) and I have captured a few thoughts from it to share with you for your reading (and maybe thought-provoking) pleasure.

The first I’ll share comes from the author’s experience in India. A New Zealand “plumber/poet” has listened as Gilbert claims to want true resolution to a bad relationship but hasn’t found it. He takes her to an Ashram rooftop and indicates she’s to climb to the top of the minaret. The view is of the entire river valley with mountains and farmland stretching before her and soon the stars will be out. He passes her a page with the following:

INSTRUCTIONS FOR FREEDOM
1. Life’s metaphors are God’s instructions.
2. You have just climbed up and above the roof. There is nothing between you and the Infinite. Now, let go.
3. The day is ending. It’s time for something that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful. Now, let go.
4. Your wish for resolution was a prayer. Your bein ghere is God’s response. Let go, and watch the stars come out – on the outside and on the inside.
5. With all your heart, ask for grace, and let go.
6. With all your heart, forgive hi, FORGIVE YOURSELF, and let him go.
7. Let your intention be freedom from useless suffering. Then, let go.
8. Watch the heat of day pass into the cool night. Let go.
9. When the karma of a relationship is done, only love remains. It’s safe. Let go.
10. When the past has passé from you at last, let go. Then climb down and begin the rest of your life. With great joy.

Later, Gilbert concludes, “This is what rituals are for. We do spiritual ceremonies as human beings in order to create a safe resting place for our most complicated feelings of joy or trauma, so that we don’t have to haul those feelings around with us forever, weighing us down. We all need such places of ritual safekeeping. And I do believe that if your culture or tradition doesn’t have the specific ritual you’re craving, then you are absolutely permitted to make up a ceremony of your own devising, fixing your own broken-down emotional systems with all the do-it-yourself resourcefulness of a generous plumber/poet. If you bring the right earnestness to your homemade ceremony, God will provide the grace. And that is why we need God.”
(p. 184-85, 187)

I'm Satisfied

5 rhinos, 10 or more hippos, 16 elephants, 9 lions (including a male and female who lounged, mounted, dismounted, and roamed witn 10 feet of the Landrover I was in), and too many to count of zebras, wildebeasts, buffalo, giselles, pink flamingos, warthogs and even a few baboons as we were leaving ...

We had a good day at the Crater.

The experience of being inside was almost as mystifying as the story of its creation. I learned that our Crater was once a volcano that collapsed on itself. We were completely circled by a ring of mountains. We saw at least two large lakes and green of every variety -- light, dark, luscious, and sparse.

At one point my companion from California noted that no matter how long we'd been driving it didn't appear we were any nearer to the mountain ring.

I said it was just like West Texas.

I went in with zebras being my favorite and came out that way too. Like a horse dolled up for costume party, the zebra is an animal of community. Traveling in herds, they are usually quite close to wildebeasts.

I've heard zebras usually take the lead until they're in a predatory situation. Then they allow the willing wildebeasts to forge ahead . . . and right into the mouths of the predator.

Yeah, I like zebras.

But the lions had me in their paws as well. (Breathe, people, I'm speaking figuratively.) The two we spent the most time snooping on lounged, dallied with one another, lounged some more and then took a stroll to the watering hole where an elephant was takign lunch and hippos were having drinks.

But what amused me was the mall behavior those two lions were following. I swear the male was always at least 3-6 feet behind the female, faithfully following and looking totally clueless as to where they were going.

Today is not why I came to Tanzania. I came to make a difference and I really believe this project is doing that. But today ... well today was a payoff more satisfying than any paycheck I've ever received.

The Contrasts Continue

No flies. No dust. No smells of goats and cows competing with overripe bananas and dried fish. The air was frigid and frost could be seen on boxes. But in Karatue, we don't buy frozen because we have no freezer ... no fridge for that matter.

This Dar es Salaam mall was surreal. Think Kirkland's The Limited, Target, Kroger and Ewards Theater under one roof and you've got the picture. Add in the wandering teenaged boys and overdressed young women and you've got a shot ready to print.

But ather 12 hours there and 12 hours back, I can assure you that's not the whole of Tanzania. In fact, it's merely a corner.

Sure Karatu, where I live, has grand lodges with $35 buffets but to get to any of them is a roller coaster ride down mud paths any American would consider a closed road. And even when you arrive the subdued lighting is your first hint that this is not a Hilton-neon lights-screaming for attention. Quiet welcomes. Quiet spaces with lots of dark wood and batiks on the walls. That's the high life in Karatu -- for tourists with several hundred to spend a night.

For the majority of the town, an after dinner drink is a Serengeti beer at a mostly oudoor bar and grill. Sitting in a plastic chair postioned to see the nightly entertainment happening along the darkened streets(remember no street lights) . Maybe a TV is blaring. Maybe not. The food will be simple -stew meat, rice and greens. And the Swahili will flow.

I like the night life. I love the city. But I'm glad that for a few weeks, Karatu is where I call home.

It's the little things . . .

Some things are just universal. I'm in a big African city and yet these sights are all too familiar:

- Men gathering every morning to drink coffee at a restaurant and argue over sports and politics. I've seen it happen every day that I've been here. I thought of Gene back in my hometown and figured with a few words of Swahili under his belt he'd fit right in!
- Ice cream and cold sodas on a hot day are just good things. People smile when you gift them with either. The women at the copy shop yesterday certainly did. They were grateful and asked our names and backgrounds while gushing and laughing. But I still couldn't take the bottle with me!
- Sometimes ... even if you love exotic food and drink ... eggs and toast in the morning is most satisfying.
- I stayed longer in the city than I planned and all my clothes were wrong given that it's HOT here. So I bought a konga, the material women use to wrap themselves in for informal and formal wear. However, while the sales clerk told me several times the cost was due to it being two pieces, the two pieces had to be cut apart. Note, I'm in a hotel with no scissors. So I marched down the four flights of this simple, inexpensive (read that hot water and a window unit air conditioner) EconoLodge and in my broken Swahili asked for a pair. The clerk was studying my question and his response when the man on my side of the counter directed him to get the scissors and then proceeded to hold the konga while I cut. Good people are everywhere if you just take time to learn how to ask the right questions.
- And speaking of questions, I love how gracious folks can be. I thanked the bank officer who helped exchange my dollars into tshillings with a polite thank you in Swahili. He responded in kind and then smiled and said, "Do you know Swahili?" As I stumbled over just saying the one word for a little, he smiled again and asked no more questions. Sometimes, hello, thank you, and good bye are enough.

Almost but not quite ...

The text read: His schedule is too tight today. So he can't meet with your group. He will try and schedule something before April.

"He" is ... get this ... THE president of Tanzania. And I am one of the "group" he couldn't squeeze in today.

Still ... pretty cool to almost be invited to meet him.

MIHV (the organization I'm working with) is hosting a first ever half marathon in Karatu. The area has produced an Olympic silver medalist but not had a running event of this magnitude. The organization wants to use the attention this thing is going to garner and promote malaria awareness. With 200 first class runners (they're working with the Tanzania Olympic Committee) and the crowds that will gather plus all the local teams, they should definitely pull in some publicity. This week in Dar es Salaam has been all about raising financial support for the race. While it would take lots more than the $43,000 they need, if we were doing it in the states, that figure is not easy to come by. We think that when we leave tomorrow that we have a good chance of at least half if not two thirds of it covered.

One bank rep we met with said, "You don't know how many marathons and events like that come through those doors asking for our support. But you are different. You don't want to raise money or sell anything. You just want to do some good. That is something I can care about."

I'm crossing my fingers he does more than care! He was a marketing guru so we sent him the logo I had worked on and asked for his input and ... if he was willing for him to send it on to an artist for some sprucing up. We'll see.

I really feel I did some good while here. I certainly learned alot. The financial capitol is definitely like many huge cities in the world. The population is a few hundred thousand more than Houston. And today I was in a mall that looked like any other major mall around the world. But one street over tonight the vendors with their small fires and roasted corn and meat on a stick will be sharing their efforts with the hundreds of folks who are walking along the dark streets sans lights except for the flames. This is Tanzania -- a land of potential, progress and yet deaths that could be prevented.

We didn't meet with the president but the race will happen. And maybe, just maybe, a few more women will learn what it means to save their child's life by using a mosquito net.

And that will make this week a very profitable one.

Drip, Drip

Today I met an array of very important people who could help make the half marathon this organization has planned for National Malaria Day a success. Corporate types and government types and medical types and more! And I did it all while pouring sweat as though a rusty faucet had finally been turned on and no one could quite figure out how to shut it off.

I patted with a flimsy tissue. I sat in front of the car's overworked air conditioner. I shed what clothing I could and I still sweat. Think Houston in July and add 10 degrees.

But it was amazing. I am glad that I'm having the opportunity to meet some of these folks. I especially liked the marketing officer for a bank here. She declared the day a "great Monday" after hearing the presentation and noting that her own objectives for her company were aligned with this group's vision of education and awareness for mothers wanting healthy babies.

I'd sweat again if it meant we get some more supporters for this malaria awareness event.

The pleasure moment of the day (other than the ice cream) was taking a break to get a manicure and pedicure. Ahhhh . . . though embarrassed that no amount of scrubbing had removed the red mud of Karatu from my feet, I swallowed my pride and let those two incredible young people have their way with my extremeties and enjoyed every second of it. Oh! And did I mention that the salon overlooks the beach?

I may be sweating but I'm doing it in style.

Tanzania Is BIG

Big mountains. Big landscapes. Big trees. Big animals. And big busses that will take you from one side to the other and in only ... 12 hours and 15 min.

That's Tanzania. I saw every shade of green and brown today that you might imagine. I saw folks selling anything from plastic dime store dolls to cashews to foot stools and they were all ready to do business through the bus window.

I'm in what has been described as the financial capitol of Tanzania, Dar es Salaam, with about 3.8 million people. The name translates to haven of peace. A coastal city, the sites I've seen on the drive in suggests that laid back vibe you get in coastal areas as well as the buzz of the city. We'll see if I'm right.

Elephant Caves . . . Without the Elephants

We hiked a couple of miles for what seemed to be straight up to see the Elephant Caves, a gathering place for numerous animals (according to our guide). However, you couldn't prove it by our merry band. We saw no elephants, no buffalos -- though we saw plenty of dung evidence to show they'd visit recently. We did hear lots of birds though. Birds are in abundance here. I have one that keeps hitting my window every morning. Not sure its a cuckoo but it certainly plays the part.

The walk was enjoyable though taxing. (We're a slight bit higher in altitude here than Houston, you know.) And we made it to a waterfall that made the day all I had hoped it would be. Standing 50 meters above the valley below, the air was cool and the scene took me back to Ecuador and another fall, Yosemite and another several falls, Ireland and even east Tennessee. And at that moment, I felt incredible gratitude for all I've seen and will see.

I live a great life.

(And my housemates assure me I'll see plenty of wildlife at the crater next weekend. Until then, I'll keep my list of the critters that seem to enjoy my bedroom as much as I do. I removed a worm when I got home from the hike.)

Meet My Other Housemate, the Pied Piper

She walks through the market and women call out her name. On the street, she's stopped several times for in depth conversations in Swahili. One woman in the market struggles to translate what she's just told Amy in Swahili and another helps by yelling out in English, "Smile ... she has a great smile."

That's my housemate. Amy is a medical student and her smile and her open spirit is a natural attraction to everyone we encountered. She was here for several months and then left for Christmas and has now returned.

Her language skills are astounding. I'd love to say that it's because she's 25, a medical student and use to absorbing lots of information at a short time. But, hey, some folks have language skills and some folks struggle.

For all the fellow strugglers out there, do you ever find that when you don't know the language you're surrounded by you just grab at any language you may have studied? I keep saying "lo siento" in the market or "si" when I need an affirmative answer.

But for all the verbal stumbling I'm doing, I'll be a better ESL teacher, right? I certainly know what it feels like to be totally befuddled!

But for now, I have great housemates who appear to have the town at their disposal.

As we say in Texas, Woohoo!

I Made a Baby ... Almost

Actually my baby didn't last long. The director tried to make the needed teaching tool out of cloth and pillow stuffi first and her freehand version was ... uh ... comical. At one point we all agreed that either the baby was deformed or she had actually just cut out a couple of condoms from the peach colored material.

I tried using a pattern I had created from figures out of Powerpoint. My attempt was fatter but still had mobility problems. As his arms were much too short to box with God on anyone else! Plus the material was so weak that at one point, though we were stuffing from the head, between the poor thing's legs started oozing white gauzey mist. A sad affair really.

Finally the student who had been patiently been attending to our rquests -- stuff this, fold this, sew this -- said she would take on the project.

Today the teaching baby doll was born and even cloned by local women to such an extent that we will probably have multiple births -- we need 80 -- as soon as the cloth and stuffing can be donated. Then the students will have what they need to both learn and finally become teachers.

So ... yet again, I have confirmation that I am not cut out for baby-making, sewing or craft time.

I can, however, laugh. And did.

African Wildlife

So far the only wildlife I've seen is in my bedroom ... the lizard in my closet, the spider I had to kill, a moth I let live and fly free (as soon as I removed it from inside my mosquito net) and a tiny frog that made its way onto my bedroom wall last night and then was abruptly treated to a flight back out my window to return to his natural environment.

I'm looking forward to up-close-and-that-personal with a few more exotic examples of creation.

Week 2

Initially I wondered how I would fill my days.

Hamna shida (no worries).

I am tutoring one woman in writing, another in Powerpoint, and planning a staff workshop on planning for Friday. I hope to write an article or two and get this very deserving organization some attention. I’ll travel to three different sites to see the work in action and my weekends are now booked with a hike nearby to Elephant Caves, then the 8th wonder of the world Ngorogoror Crater, and then the Serengeti where I have learned I’ll be staying in a tent camp (the photos I’ve seen thus far will blow your mind in that the tent accommodations look better than some hotels I've seen here) and finally, I’m arranging to at least step foot on Kilimanjaro.

Since all these excursions require a vehicle, a driver, sometimes a guide, etc. I’m pumped that the organization has a few connections that are benefitting me financially.

In the meantime, I plan on earning my keep with consultations on organizational matters and any other leadership or communication tricks I can pull up on my trusty Mac (which, by the way, will need a thorough cleaning when I leave this land of the red dust).

First Weekend Highlights

First Weekend Highlights
 Walking for exercise and exploration with my housemate
 Reading, writing, and remembering what life at a slower pace feels like
 The African sky . . . at night with a full moon but puffy white clouds accenting it and the stars offering their own version of bling
 Walking alone
 Buying a pot so that we can have two to cook in and along with our one frying pan, we’re set!
 Finding a taste of heaven in a place called Bytes that caters to folks like me – non-Africans on a limited budget who enjoy prawns with chili mayo and three types of sauces in which to dip my fries. (Also went to a high end hotel to enjoy the view but the buffet there was $35 so we simply sipped and played Scrabble.)
 Hosting our first dinner party with two guests, food and party games. We had a starter of cheese and crackers, traditional African stew with beef; cabbage cooked the way I do it; rice that had to be inspected, then washed, then cooked; a tomato and cucumber salad with oil and vinegar. The laughter intensified when I introduced them to the dice game Farkle. While Jolene lost the game on paper, we awarded her 4,000 points for being willing to drive our guest home in the darkness so that she wouldn’t have to walk. That made her the night’s champion!
 Killing a from-tip-to-tip-at-least-three-inch-spider that was crawling around my bed last night . . . on my side of the mosquito net no less, so, yeah, he had to go

Mzungu . . . that would be me

"White person!" That's what the kids shout at me in swahili after they have said hello in English. My housemate assures me that when they do it, they are innocently trying to connect with me. I assured her that I was fine with the salutation given that indeed, they were right.

Today, I walked alone along the main road and through a bit of the market and I never felt so mzungu . . . to the point of even wondering if I might glow in the dark.

The people are great though. For about half my walk though surrounded by hundreds of people, I was definitely the only one worried about getting too red with the sun beating down. But several folks said hello in English or shouted "Jambo!" -- the one phrase absolutely critical for everyone to know here because it starts the beginning of a fairly lengthy ritual of saying hello and checking on everything from one's health, to family, to homelife.

I realized as I walked that I've lost the mouth-open wonder I saw on one woman's face as her tour bus drove through town. She had that glow that just emanates from folks who are mesmerized by the flood of new sights and sounds in travel. I'm not sad that's gone for me. Not sure on what continent it happened but now I just look at each day as a new adventure and that might be in the U.S. as well as from a foreign tour bus. I'm just as curious as I've always been but I in no way attribute greatness to the people I don't know in the same way that I once did.

People are people. Some stare. Some look away. Some say Jambo. Some shout Mzungu with a smile on their face and I'm sure some mutter it under their breath. People are people.

And no matter where you go, there you are.