Settling In

Right after I posted the last blog, it happened: I pooped my pants. You’d think being 21 years old that I would be able to control it, but it just happened. Thankfully I was alone able to shower when it happened. I guess I’m a REAL volunteer now!

It has been hard to integrate into my community because they aren’t sure what to think of me. I’m the first volunteer they have had and some people think I’m Chinese because some Chinese volunteers are doing a water project nearby. They are unsure if I know Swahili or if I speak English or what. With that being said, I went to a soccer match to celebrate the end of Ramadan. It was our village team against a nearby village’s team. My house girl (the last day she was with me) and my Mkuu’s house girl escorted me. It was so intimidating. Probably about 300 people were milling around outside the field and it became dead silent when I walked up. Everyone turned to stare at me and a mob of children inched closer but wouldn’t speak. I was smiling as big as I could to keep from crying. My Mkuu met us there with some of the students that live with him. My Mkuu said everyone was surprised to see me. Well, duh. I’m pretty sure the village officers had to have meetings about me coming, and with the way word spreads in a village, I don’t know why they WOULDN’T expect me to be there. I was thankful to be escorted by Fausta and Amina. We went inside and were standing in the “women and children” section of the field and someone important called us over to sit on a bench. There are only 4 benches in the whole stadium, so we were sitting with all the elders and respected people. Of course, the fee for this special treatment: the man who invited me over got to take my picture on his phone. As the players entered, they all shook our hands, so that was pretty cool. A blind man who spoke perfect English came over to greet me also. As we left, a few people yelled “I love you” and then a mob formed again as the blind man asked me for my phone number.

I went to the beach house in Mtwara for 2 nights and it was the perfect break for me. We went to celebrate another volunteer’s birthday (and I needed to use the bank and buy a bicycle). It was a last-minute decision for me to go because I wasn’t sure how my Mkuu would react. He wrote me a permission slip to go into town…but I went! It only took a little over 3 hours to get there from Ndanda. The other girls had been planning this for a while, so they went shopping when we arrived and we made American food. We had chili cheese dogs for dinner, followed by a birthday cake. Then omelets for breakfast, hummus for lunch and pizza for dinner. I ended up staying the second night because when I went to buy my bicycle, I just thought I would put it on the top of the daladala and take it back to my site right then. But the fundi has to “tengeneza” (put together/repair) bikes before you can even sit on them. They are just slapped together for display purposes, and also so people don’t steal them. We swam in the ocean (amongst naked Tanzanian boys who were trying to swim near us) for a good hour one evening, and just lounged on the beach the next day. I love the beach house in Mtwara and can’t wait to go back!

When I got back to my site I was finally alone. I have just been organizing my house and trying to cook. I hung my hammock in my living room and it is AWESOME. I hang a light on the window so I can read at night. I think that is my favorite part of my house! I arranged my kitchen and set up a “sink” outside. I’m waiting for a cabinet to be made for my kitchen now. A mouse ate some chicken bouillon cubes, so I want to get my food and dishes off the ground. I have gone to a seamstress in the village twice now and I love going there! She is the sister of the bajaj driver. She is very patient with me and has good relationships with her neighbors, so they come to hang out while she works. She cut and sewed a kanga, made 2 little zippered coin purses, and is working on a skirt now. I tried going to another fundi just to distribute business, but he had horrible cataracts, was drunk, and was groping me instead of actually taking measurements.

The Tanzanian Census is going on right now, which is why there is a school break. When I came into Ndanda I was charging my phone at Mikey’s house when this lady came to do the census. It took awhile to explain to her that I didn’t live there. The next day I ended up doing the census at my village. The questions were awkward and I laughed at a lot of them. It was weird to say that I am the head of my household. He didn’t believe me when I said I was 21 either. I thought it was interesting that they never ask a question about Ethnicity. In America that is so standard, but here, they just assume everyone is black! There were questions about health/mobility/vision/hearing; types of appliances you own (radio, TV, fridge, hot plate, computer); employment history. It is really weird for them that I live in a 3-bedroom house, alone. My Mkuu has about 6-8 people sleeping at his house each night.

I have been having health problems, so was told to come into Ndanda to go to the hospital. I have had diarrhea for about a month straight, and I have a bone growth on my clavicle. Anyway, once I had my doctor explain over the phone why I was there to the intake nurse, I was escorted to a room. The doctor spoke English, but he didn’t really understand that I needed a stool sample. I told him in Swahili “I need to poop in a cup” and he just asked me why. I got my PC Doctor back on the phone and he explained and then all of a sudden the doctor reaches across the table for my chest. He was feeling my collarbone, but still, I didn’t have any warning. He determined it was “hardy” and “boney”. So I’m going to Dar on Monday to see the PC Doctor.

Currently I am back in Ndanda waiting to go to Dar. I went to Masasi to go to the Posta and see where things are, and it doesn’t make sense for me to go back to my site, when I need to board the bus here at 6am. People in Ndanda are actually interested in me. At least 10 people know my name (it’s Allen, didn’t you know? They add the “y” sound on the end of EVERYTHING (Jakc-y, gift-y, guest-y, friend-y), but somehow think I’m saying Allen. Maybe I’ll start introducing myself as Al.) and yell to me when I walk around. I like being known here and more people here know how to speak slowly for me to understand. I got another marriage proposal yesterday. He was a 42-year-old farmer in Masasi. When I told him no, he said he wanted to give me a gift (“jifti”) of a cow so that I could drink milk everyday. Today I will go swimming in the pond and learn how to play bao (kind of like Moncala but has 4 rows instead of 2).

I will have internet access until Tuesday night at least-possibly longer depending on my diagnosis and treatment in Dar. Feel free ask me questions, or request topics to discuss in future blogs. I will be writing about: cultural differences, money conversions, typical food, typical day (once I start teaching), education issues, and water issues.