Stuff I Forgot and a Few New Tidbits

One thing I've noticed about Africa is how useless it is to plan too far ahead. Buy a plane ticket a month early and it's likely to be cancelled. Plan some work for the very next day, and in the morning the odds that you'll be doing something else are very high. Then there's Africa Time to consider- everything takes longer than you expect.

I forgot to mention in my last entry that a new orphanage is opening in the Arusha area. Last weekend, I joined some of the other girls to see the building and clean up the grounds. The woman who will be running it was there, along with two girls who will live there (one of them was named Irene- very common name here, though they pronounce it Irini.). We pulled unwanted plants, trimmed thorns, moved rubbish, and turned up some earth in preparation for a vegetable garden. It's cool knowing that disadvantaged kids will find some advantages there.

This being my last week, I took a day to visit Faraja, one of the other projects Ujamaa residents helpout with. Faraja houses around 40 young women who have been victimized by the sex trafficking industry or found in other rough circumstances. At Faraja, they are taught english, mathematics, cooking, tailoring, computer skills, and other useful assets so that when they leave, they canfind jobs to support themselves and, in some cases, their children. The first thing that struck me when I arrived was that the many of the girls carry their school supplies on their heads, just as Tanzanian women around town carry all manner of whatnot. Cute. And way outside of my skill set. I helped out in the english class, which was surprisingly fun. The girls are smiley and giggly, real charmers, and appealing to their competitive sides can yield great results!

Even so, I'm going to spend the rest of my time here working at Tumaini, to see the kids and get as much done as I can before I leave. Politics is causing some turmoil there- unfortunately, a difference exists between what Beatrice wants, what the visiting founder and his donors want, and what the volunteers want. Everyone agrees that the happiness and welfare of the children arethe more important things... and everyone has a different plan for achieving them. Myself, having kept my mouth shut and listened to all perspectives, I tend to side with Beatrice, because she lives there and clearly cares about the children. Also, her perspective is Tanzanian rather than Western, which I think is important, given that as adults the children will be living in a Tanzanian society.

It's lucky that the kids are oblivious to our squabbling. Eriki and Moosa are still climbing trees, Naomi still questing for food, and Mesiaki, when he isn't sleeping like the living dead, is still finding any excuse to run and shout. Zimbrani loves to be a human wheelbarrow. Junior, the baby, loves to be sung to. He'll stare at you, fish-eyed, for as long as you're willing to keep crooning (just watch out for the leaky diaper). While you've got Junior, you'll inevitably be visited by Herman, the oldest child of Mama Sara's household, who is, after Mama, Junior's most assiduous attendant. Herman has his own little brother, Julius, whose expression at rest reminds me of a sad St. Bernard puppy. Then there's Elia, our little HIV positive toddler, for whom everyone has a soft spot- in fact, Beatrice complains that if volunteers don't stop holding Elia every time he cries, he's going to be incredibly spoiled.
That's just a little bit about some of the kids, to give you a taste of what people here work so hard for.

Yesterday started on a low note. I'd recently learned that the amount I saved for this trip was woefully short (I blame inter-Africa plane ticket prices and doctor's bills). I also found out that a classmate of mine from middle and high school died of cancer. With these and a few other distrss factors on my mind, I arrived at Tumaini, where Beatrice could tell something was wrong. I assured her I was fine but, a mother and grandmother to the hilt, she kept asking until, mid-reassurance, I started to cry. At this point, she sat me down, fed me coffee and millet porridge, and proceeded to talk me out of my funk. She and her husband were going to town for errands, but she wouldn't hear of my starting work- "I will not leave you alone right now"- so I went with them. We talked about the Tumaini children, and about family, and she told me that I should marry one of her sons. Marriage is not currently on my radar, but I appreciated the thought. As I have said, I already liked Beatrice, but yseterday I gained a new appreciation for her. How many people would take that kind of time to comfort a random volunteer?

To end on a positive note, I must add that Africa is good for the figure. The adjustable waistband of my ugly-but-magical work pants tells me that I've been slowly but steadily slimming down since leaving Massachusetts. No mystery why that would be: plenty of moving around outdoors, and simpler, healthier food. The hostel almost never serves meat, and the vegetables most likely contain far fewer chemicals and preservatives. Then there's my heat-diminished sweet tooth. I thought nothing could vanquish my taste for chocolate, and yet here we are. I'm appreciative.

Parents, if your tempted to worry about my breakdown, STOP RIGHT THERE. I'm feel better now, but that will go away if you start parenting.
Love to all!