My feet have been immortalized... on the hallway floor of two orphan households, leading from the bathroom to the sink. The purpose is to remind the children to wash their hands. Just think- MY feet, which I have always considered one of my better features, may well protect children from illness. My dreams are that much more complete.
In addition to blessing the next generation with a permanent vision of my perfect arches, we've had a variety of activities since I last wrote- a new house for 8-9 new kids is about to be furnished, so we scrubbed it from top to bottom and routed the spiders and mysterious stains. There are new chicks who need their daily vitamins and antibiotics, and we're also on a crusade to improve the existing henhouse- our girls have just started laying! Jayde, who's been here longer than me, was like a proud Mama when she saw the first egg! Since then, our pioneering hen has laid approximately 1.5 eggs a day, and we believe another lady has taken up the hobby as well.
Today we bought a mess of building materials to construct a shed that will keep the cow's grass dry. We returned to the center atop a truck piled with rough boards- it's common for Tanzanian workmen to ride in the backs of trucks, but I'm not sure the townsfolk had ever seen Mzungu doing it- we spent the entite long ride surrounded by cries of "Mzungu, Mzungu!" Some of the kids even chased the truck.
The rainy season seems to have started a bit early this year- the last few mornings have been cloudy, with rain in the afternoons, and today it's actually already rained twice. Although it makes a pleasant respite from the heat, today was inconvenient. Katarina, Kelvini and Elia were scheduled to go into the doctor's for check-ups, and the taxi we called to get them got stuck in the mud on the way up the mountain. The only solution was to walk to meet it. Mud cakes quickly on the bottom of your sandals, until soon it's as thick or thicker than the sandal itself. To keep the older kids from getting too messy, Jayde and I each piggy-backed one until we found the car. Elia, only 18 months, was on his house-mama's back.
I defy anyone to come here without getting attached to the kids. I can't understand most of what they say, but it's amazing how many games you can play without a common language. And how distinct their personalities can become. Since this is the beginning of my last week, I'm a little worried about saying goodbye.
In a different vein, I think the term "beautiful black man" was invented in Tanzania, and that "beautiful black woman" should be much more common. The typical cast of features in this country causes me to double-take multiple times with every trip into town. And the clothing doesn't hurt- I always see Maasai men wandering about, wrapped in their blankets. The women wear long skirts and shirts that compliment a curvy figure impressively. Western clothing does nothing for healthy curves, and I find myself coveting the Tanzanian women's clothes. Also, I've seen a variety of braid creations that make me wish I had woolly-textured hair so I could try them out without looking ridiculous.
In a funny vein, Beatrice told me the other day that I'm like a Maasai. Why? Because I always have a knife with me, and I use it for everything. In this case, it's actually my leatherman, Scooby Bob (Karin, if you're reading this, you should tell Bob, who gave the leatherman to me, that it's been invaluable). Sometimes I feel like the other volunteers just view me as a walking multi-tool (Yes, I see the nasty jokes that could come from this- shut up and sit down).
There aren't many other solo travelers at my hostel. Mostly, it's couples or groups of female friends. Nor are there many chronic travelers. So sometimes I feel a bit lonely, despite being surrounded by people. There are definite advantages to traveling on your own, and then there are the lonely times. Today is one of them.
Missing everyone.
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