I know that for most of you who read my blog, Christmas started weeks ago, but in Tanzania, far removed from the manic commercialism of American Christmas, it begins today.
Actually, it is only starting today because the Lahash kids are writing Christmas letters to their sponsors, and Leah and I will be teaching them a few Christmas songs. We are all really excited about Christmas with these kids for two reasons:
First, Christmas is on a Friday this year, the same day as the Lahash kids program. In the States that would mean that the program is canceled to celebrate Christmas, but here it means that we get to spend Christmas Day with the kids! Because of extremely generous donations from a local bank, we'll be able to have a fantastic Christmas feast with the kids, complete with sodas for all!
The second reason we're all excited is the Lahash sponsorship Christmas program. We developed a program which allows sponsors to give toward a personalized Christmas gift for their sponsored child. As I get updates about sponsors giving to this program, we get to imagine Joseph riding his new bike, Jennifer and Noel looking so smart in their new clothes, or Zuhura learning to use her new sewing machine. So much better than getting any of those things myself, because I know how much these Christmas gifts will mean to the kids. (If you would like to give for one of these children who doesn't have a sponsor or whose sponsor cannot afford a gift, please contact me or my assistant at kpotter@lahash.net.)
Personal reasons I'm more excited for this Christmas than I have been about any Christmas in a long time:
- I was thinking that I would be going out of town with the Muhagachi family, but they've changed their plans, so I get to be here with my darling kids and beautiful roommates and wonderful friends.
- NO FLEEPING CHRISTMAS MUSIC! (fleeping is a word I made up to replace certain inappropriate cusswords in my vocabulary, feel free to use it) Although I did run into my roommate's bedroom to listen to someone on TBN singing Ave Maria, and I'm teaching the kids my favorite Christmas carol (Oh Holy Night) today, I could go the rest of my life without hearing Feliz Navidad, Santa Baby, or Rudolph. I know this all sounds like rank heresy to some of you, but I have loved knowing that for roughly the past month you all have been hearing Christmas music piped in everywhere, but I can observe my personal policy of no playing Christmas music until mid-December. It actually makes me excited for the two Christmas CDs on my computer.
- People here don't give a lot of presents for Christmas, and I already arranged my family's Christmas presents (months ago). Leah and I are thinking of buying chips for all of the staff for lunch one day as our Christmas gift to them, and I'll buy the Christmas gifts for my three sponsored kids (I'm thinking a bicycle for Kibiro, since he already does so many errands for me, it will make him even happier to do my errands! Potina and Anjela will probably get new clothes, but don't tell them!). I might buy something small for my roommates, and I'll be done! We're all allowed to be excited about Jesus, not presents. It's really nice.
Time to get my Oh Holy Night on! (that sounds oddly inappropriate somehow...)
11 December 2009
03 December 2009
You know you live somewhere odd when...
…you decide against your nightly bathing because you can’t get a lizard out of your bathtub.
…the man next to you in the internet café peers over your shoulder to read your blog, even though he probably cannot understand the English.
…you are grateful that your Swahili tutor smokes, because the bitter smell of stale tobacco just covers the odor wafting off of his feet.
…you listen to a young woman tell a story of flying on a basket with a witchdoctor and it doesn’t rouse an ounce of skepticism.
…you know how to say “I peed my pants” in Swahili, but will probably never have occasion to use it because you don’t wear trousers except to bed, and if you peed during the night, you’d say I peed the bed, regardless of what you were wearing while you did it. (you also know how to say that, although so far, you’ve never had to say either one.)
…you are invited to serve on the Board of Directors for a nursery school, but need the assistance of a nursery school student to read the letter of invitation. (Not really, you had a pastor read it to me.)
...you ask for instant oatmeal in care packages, and astound friends by sharing chocolate chips because they’ve never seen a chocolate chip before.
…you understand when you’re being told to stand up, but then can’t really figure out why you’re the only one standing.
…you notice the moon because if it weren’t for the moon, there would be no light for your mile-long trek to a friend’s house.
…you find teeth marks on your calculator case because Charles Chatanda believes that everything might be food, regardless of initial appearances.
…you have a pep talk for the “what if…” moment of your quarterly HIV test.
…you forget the name of the bus to your neighborhood, and choose the wrong bus, but decide to ride the wrong one across town just to see if you can get yourself home walking. (you do, but you’re really sweaty and tired by the time you arrive)
(After such a sad update yesterday, I thought I'd give you all a little upper post. Truth is I've had a really tough two days, and it encouraged me to laugh at myself while putting this together.)
…the man next to you in the internet café peers over your shoulder to read your blog, even though he probably cannot understand the English.
…you are grateful that your Swahili tutor smokes, because the bitter smell of stale tobacco just covers the odor wafting off of his feet.
…you listen to a young woman tell a story of flying on a basket with a witchdoctor and it doesn’t rouse an ounce of skepticism.
…you know how to say “I peed my pants” in Swahili, but will probably never have occasion to use it because you don’t wear trousers except to bed, and if you peed during the night, you’d say I peed the bed, regardless of what you were wearing while you did it. (you also know how to say that, although so far, you’ve never had to say either one.)
…you are invited to serve on the Board of Directors for a nursery school, but need the assistance of a nursery school student to read the letter of invitation. (Not really, you had a pastor read it to me.)
...you ask for instant oatmeal in care packages, and astound friends by sharing chocolate chips because they’ve never seen a chocolate chip before.
…you understand when you’re being told to stand up, but then can’t really figure out why you’re the only one standing.
…you notice the moon because if it weren’t for the moon, there would be no light for your mile-long trek to a friend’s house.
…you find teeth marks on your calculator case because Charles Chatanda believes that everything might be food, regardless of initial appearances.
…you have a pep talk for the “what if…” moment of your quarterly HIV test.
…you forget the name of the bus to your neighborhood, and choose the wrong bus, but decide to ride the wrong one across town just to see if you can get yourself home walking. (you do, but you’re really sweaty and tired by the time you arrive)
(After such a sad update yesterday, I thought I'd give you all a little upper post. Truth is I've had a really tough two days, and it encouraged me to laugh at myself while putting this together.)
02 December 2009
The ugliness of myself revealed
My cohort Leah has blogged about a woman called Cristina, an HIV+ client in the Home Based Care program at the church here. Leah was with the social worker, Mama Bette, on a routine visit to Cristina’s house where they found Cristina essentially starving to death. She was living with her parents and brother, but they were either refusing or just failing to take care of her.
It was really difficult for Leah to witness, though, I think, good in a way. This is a tragically common scenario for people living with advanced HIV in East Africa. We knew a woman in Kenya whose son had built a room onto the side of their house for his mother to, basically, die in. They refused to care for her, and were just waiting for her to die. It puts a hard knot in my stomach to think of what goes on in the minds of these families.
The result of Leah and Mama Bette’s visit to Cristina’s home was that Cristina was admitted to the hospital. About two or so weeks ago I mentioned that we visited her there. You can see from the photo how frail she was, but she was much improved from when they first found her. To be admitted in this kind of situation, the patient needs a family member to stay also to provide food, water, clothing, clean linens, and to advocate with the doctors and nurses. Cristina’s mother, having been severely reprimanded by Mama Bette, was there at the hospital. This was my first hospital visit to a client, but even I could tell that the mother was still not taking very good care of Cristina. We had brought clothes for her, which was good because the mother had only a few fabric wraps (khangas), and Cristina appeared to be cold lying on the plastic hospital mattress. Her skin was so dry it was cracking in spots, and until Mama Bette arrived, the mother had made no effort to change the wrapped diaper.
Poor Cristina suffered through nakedness and having herself cleaned by other people with as much dignity as can be mustered in those situations. Her eyes, huge in her head, were still pleading, and it was clear that she was extremely hungry. The staff of the HBC program had brought prepared food every day, although they suspected that the mother was eating it. Eventually, over the course of about a week, Cristina became strong enough to be sent home. We rejoiced, and hoped for the best.
Last Tuesday evening her mother came to the church with another woman. The woman told Mama Askofu (Esther Muhagachi) that Cristina was very, very ill, as bad as she had been before the hospital. The mother sat in dumb, resentful silence, as this woman, a caregiver to someone with HIV herself, volunteered to take Cristina in her own home. I listened to this conversation, parts of which were translated for Leah and I, and the anger I felt after hearing about that first home visit revived in my heart as I watched the mother, inertia and apathy etched on every feature. As Mama Askofu berated Cristina’s mother, vehemently enough that the Swahili speakers found reasons to turn away into other conversations, I reveled in the mother’s discomfort, indulging my pettiest self.
There was talk of doing a home visit immediately, but Cristina’s house was too far to walk so late in the day, and the church’s two vehicles were both in use. There was another HBC client, a woman called Grace, in the hospital, and the hospital’s limited visiting hours were fast passing. Leah was leaving in the morning for a little trip with the Muhagachis, and needed to go home to pack. I told them to fetch me if they went to Cristina’s, but the trip never happened.
The next morning word reached us that Cristina died during the night. She is neither the first, nor the last client who has been lost in the program. Hers is not the first death of a client that I have suffered through, but the battle of “right” emotions never becomes simple. In my spirit there is holy rebellion, rebellion that dates back to the Garden of Eden where sin and death entered the world for the first time. Death was never God’s intention, it was a necessary and merciful adaptation to save us from having to live eternally in a corrupt world where disease and neglect exist, but it was not part of God’s original plan, so the part of my spirit that is living for the renewal of God’s original design hates her death in the same way that I hated her illness and poverty.
Also in the mix is that anger toward her family. A desire for some kind of justice or retribution, abated by the pragmatism that there are no realistic legal consequences for this family who essentially starved their daughter to death, but unabated by any kind of mercy. There is honestly a part of me that wants them to suffer, not to the extreme of Cristina’s suffering, but enough to jolt them out of their indifference. Obviously it is impossible to impart compassion through those means, but an ugly part of me would really like to try it.
Finally, part of me is relieved for Cristina’s sake. From what I understand she loved Jesus, so release from her frail, sick body is release into a perfect peace and rest that would have always been impossible in this broken and ugly world.
So, rest in the arms of the Lover of your soul, Cristina. Rest in peace.
It was really difficult for Leah to witness, though, I think, good in a way. This is a tragically common scenario for people living with advanced HIV in East Africa. We knew a woman in Kenya whose son had built a room onto the side of their house for his mother to, basically, die in. They refused to care for her, and were just waiting for her to die. It puts a hard knot in my stomach to think of what goes on in the minds of these families.
The result of Leah and Mama Bette’s visit to Cristina’s home was that Cristina was admitted to the hospital. About two or so weeks ago I mentioned that we visited her there. You can see from the photo how frail she was, but she was much improved from when they first found her. To be admitted in this kind of situation, the patient needs a family member to stay also to provide food, water, clothing, clean linens, and to advocate with the doctors and nurses. Cristina’s mother, having been severely reprimanded by Mama Bette, was there at the hospital. This was my first hospital visit to a client, but even I could tell that the mother was still not taking very good care of Cristina. We had brought clothes for her, which was good because the mother had only a few fabric wraps (khangas), and Cristina appeared to be cold lying on the plastic hospital mattress. Her skin was so dry it was cracking in spots, and until Mama Bette arrived, the mother had made no effort to change the wrapped diaper.
Poor Cristina suffered through nakedness and having herself cleaned by other people with as much dignity as can be mustered in those situations. Her eyes, huge in her head, were still pleading, and it was clear that she was extremely hungry. The staff of the HBC program had brought prepared food every day, although they suspected that the mother was eating it. Eventually, over the course of about a week, Cristina became strong enough to be sent home. We rejoiced, and hoped for the best.
Last Tuesday evening her mother came to the church with another woman. The woman told Mama Askofu (Esther Muhagachi) that Cristina was very, very ill, as bad as she had been before the hospital. The mother sat in dumb, resentful silence, as this woman, a caregiver to someone with HIV herself, volunteered to take Cristina in her own home. I listened to this conversation, parts of which were translated for Leah and I, and the anger I felt after hearing about that first home visit revived in my heart as I watched the mother, inertia and apathy etched on every feature. As Mama Askofu berated Cristina’s mother, vehemently enough that the Swahili speakers found reasons to turn away into other conversations, I reveled in the mother’s discomfort, indulging my pettiest self.
There was talk of doing a home visit immediately, but Cristina’s house was too far to walk so late in the day, and the church’s two vehicles were both in use. There was another HBC client, a woman called Grace, in the hospital, and the hospital’s limited visiting hours were fast passing. Leah was leaving in the morning for a little trip with the Muhagachis, and needed to go home to pack. I told them to fetch me if they went to Cristina’s, but the trip never happened.
The next morning word reached us that Cristina died during the night. She is neither the first, nor the last client who has been lost in the program. Hers is not the first death of a client that I have suffered through, but the battle of “right” emotions never becomes simple. In my spirit there is holy rebellion, rebellion that dates back to the Garden of Eden where sin and death entered the world for the first time. Death was never God’s intention, it was a necessary and merciful adaptation to save us from having to live eternally in a corrupt world where disease and neglect exist, but it was not part of God’s original plan, so the part of my spirit that is living for the renewal of God’s original design hates her death in the same way that I hated her illness and poverty.
Also in the mix is that anger toward her family. A desire for some kind of justice or retribution, abated by the pragmatism that there are no realistic legal consequences for this family who essentially starved their daughter to death, but unabated by any kind of mercy. There is honestly a part of me that wants them to suffer, not to the extreme of Cristina’s suffering, but enough to jolt them out of their indifference. Obviously it is impossible to impart compassion through those means, but an ugly part of me would really like to try it.
Finally, part of me is relieved for Cristina’s sake. From what I understand she loved Jesus, so release from her frail, sick body is release into a perfect peace and rest that would have always been impossible in this broken and ugly world.
So, rest in the arms of the Lover of your soul, Cristina. Rest in peace.
18 November 2009
Sights and smells of Dodoma
Kate asked for more pictures, but I'm that girl who carries around a camera and never ever takes photos with it unless they're specifically required for work. I think part of it is an inferiority complex brought on by working with media geniuses (geniusi?) like Dan and Casey, but here are a few of the sights and smells (can't wait for smell technology on the internet!) of my week:
Smell: Pilau
Pilau is this awesome rice stuff with spices in it. Often it also has big chunks of irish potato and bits of meat. It's like the original, first and best Rice-A-Roni. My roommates made pilau on Monday, and at one point it actually kind of smelled like Cup-a-Noodle, which made me all nostalgic.
Sight: Pomegranates
The pomegranates at my house are beginning to be ripe, so Jackie and I sat outside Monday evening and ate a pomegranate each, fresh from the tree. We also stole one off of our neighbors' tree because it was hanging on our side.
Smell: Goat fart
There are goats that graze in a field that I walk through every day on the way to work. Yesterday as I was passing by them, one farted. Sick.
Sight: Dead rat
'nuff said. It was laying dead on a cinder block in one of the yards I cut through on the way to work.
Smell: Marijuana?
It's not really marijuana, but when people burn trash around here, it often smells like the first floor of Hewitt Hall in Fall 2001, if you Linfielders know what I mean.
Sight: Rosey and her mama
My friend Chitema's daughter Rose is always around, ready to play. In fact, because of her I've had lots of practice saying "Sichezi!" (I'm not playing!) Her mother, Chitema's wife, is probably seven months pregnant and the most beautiful and graceful woman I have ever seen. Yesterday she was fetching water, wearing a muumuu and plastic shoes, but looking for all the world like she could be posing for the cover of Vanity Fair. She had Rosey along to "help".
Smell: Smoke
Because the rainy season has started, lots of people can't cook outside anymore for lack of cover. Many of the families of the kids in our program here have only one room that functions as sleeping and living quarters, and, when it's raining, cooking quarters also. Lately whenever I've picked up a Lahash kid to sit on my lap I've been breathing deep the smell of charcoal or wood smoke in their clothes. It reminds me of camping and my friends who used to smoke pipes.
Sight: A small yellow ball whizzing at my head
Jackie has a game she likes to play that is basically like two person dodgeball. One person stands against the wall trying to dodge the high velocity pitches of the other player. You score goals by catching the ball, then throwing it back at the thrower. If you hit the thrower, it's a point. Jackie and I played for about 20 action-packed minutes on Sunday, then we did some stretches and the only yoga poses I could remember. We had some little competitions for stair-stepping (I lost because I fell off the stair) and wall-sitting (I lost, but I think she was cheating). I can kick her butt at arm-wrestling, though.
Final sight: The watchman's bemused face
Jackie and I did our stair-stepping competition outside, and our brand-new watchman, Maduka, just watched us like we were crazy. I suppose we are a bit. He's cool, though, and still likes us and we like him.
Smell: Pilau
Pilau is this awesome rice stuff with spices in it. Often it also has big chunks of irish potato and bits of meat. It's like the original, first and best Rice-A-Roni. My roommates made pilau on Monday, and at one point it actually kind of smelled like Cup-a-Noodle, which made me all nostalgic.
Sight: Pomegranates
The pomegranates at my house are beginning to be ripe, so Jackie and I sat outside Monday evening and ate a pomegranate each, fresh from the tree. We also stole one off of our neighbors' tree because it was hanging on our side.
Smell: Goat fart
There are goats that graze in a field that I walk through every day on the way to work. Yesterday as I was passing by them, one farted. Sick.
Sight: Dead rat
'nuff said. It was laying dead on a cinder block in one of the yards I cut through on the way to work.
Smell: Marijuana?
It's not really marijuana, but when people burn trash around here, it often smells like the first floor of Hewitt Hall in Fall 2001, if you Linfielders know what I mean.
Sight: Rosey and her mama
My friend Chitema's daughter Rose is always around, ready to play. In fact, because of her I've had lots of practice saying "Sichezi!" (I'm not playing!) Her mother, Chitema's wife, is probably seven months pregnant and the most beautiful and graceful woman I have ever seen. Yesterday she was fetching water, wearing a muumuu and plastic shoes, but looking for all the world like she could be posing for the cover of Vanity Fair. She had Rosey along to "help".
Smell: Smoke
Because the rainy season has started, lots of people can't cook outside anymore for lack of cover. Many of the families of the kids in our program here have only one room that functions as sleeping and living quarters, and, when it's raining, cooking quarters also. Lately whenever I've picked up a Lahash kid to sit on my lap I've been breathing deep the smell of charcoal or wood smoke in their clothes. It reminds me of camping and my friends who used to smoke pipes.
Sight: A small yellow ball whizzing at my head
Jackie has a game she likes to play that is basically like two person dodgeball. One person stands against the wall trying to dodge the high velocity pitches of the other player. You score goals by catching the ball, then throwing it back at the thrower. If you hit the thrower, it's a point. Jackie and I played for about 20 action-packed minutes on Sunday, then we did some stretches and the only yoga poses I could remember. We had some little competitions for stair-stepping (I lost because I fell off the stair) and wall-sitting (I lost, but I think she was cheating). I can kick her butt at arm-wrestling, though.
Final sight: The watchman's bemused face
Jackie and I did our stair-stepping competition outside, and our brand-new watchman, Maduka, just watched us like we were crazy. I suppose we are a bit. He's cool, though, and still likes us and we like him.
12 November 2009
Highlights of the past week...
It's been a crazy busy week, so I'm going to limit myself to one highlight from each of the past seven days.
Friday the 6th - HUGE thunderstorm to kick off the rainy season. I sat out on my little verandah to watch and listen to the spectacle. One thunderclap sounded right over the house (I've never heard one closer), scaring me badly enough to duck and cover my head, and making Jackie scream and fall down inside the house.
Saturday the 7th - We visited a woman who is living with HIV and had been so neglected by her family that she was found essentially starving to death. Leah had been to visit her several times, and was present the day she was found, but it was my first visit to her in the hospital. I'll spare you all the details, but they let me be a tiny bit helpful in getting her dressed and fed, but I wasn't the one who had to clean her up, if you know what I mean. She was so sweet, and so grateful to be alive, and she gave us a thumbs up as we left. (Second runner up for best highlight was a call from my parents.)
Sunday the 8th - I got my second roommate, another Tanzanian woman named Beatrice, and we had some Leah and two of our friends, Mseti and Paulo, over for lunch. It was the first time I felt like I fit in with these young people as one of their peers, in a similar, but different, way to my friends back home. We had a fantastic conversation, and had some meat for lunch that Jackie had cooked in the taco spices I brought from home, which turned out to be a hit.
Monday the 9th - Leah and I attempted our first public cooking spectacle: French Toast. It was the 14th birthday of my Tanzanian little brother, Victor, so we made some French Toast for the whole family, sweetening it by making a kind of sugar syrup and pouring it into the egg/milk mix. People enjoyed it so much I attempted it later in the week for another crowd, and got similar enthusiasm.
Tuesday the 10th - Small triumphs: I finished The State of Africa, which I had been reading for work, and The Man in the Brown Suit I re-read in almost one sitting out on the verandah.
Wednesday the 11th - So many great things happened this day. First Jackie, Beatrice, and I hosted the church staff meeting at our house in the morning, where I asked them to go around and affirm the person on their right. They'd never done anything like that before, and it was lovely to see them encouraging them one another. Mama Neema, the accountant, said such beautiful things about me that I nearly cried. Later at a planning meeting for the HIV Community Event, (remember how I was learning to dance for this event?), someone said "Why do we need to change the ngoma (dancing)? If Leisha can dance with her hips, surely the rest of us can." I'll take that as a compliment. Best of all, we finally got to the post office, and I had a book from my Grandma Adams and a stack of photos of my family from my Grandma Jones. Grandmas are the best!
Thursday the 12th - Does it sound callous to say that the highlight of today was firing my house help? She'd been making me dread the days she came to clean because she didn't clean well, didn't cook well, was rude to my roommates, always demanded breakfast that I didn't even have for myself, and might have been stealing sugar and oil. She's gone now, although she made it clear that I can call her if I want to hire her to do my laundry, which she's actually decent at. The lowlight of today is that I haven't had a soda. First day in probably two weeks that I haven't had at least one soda, although the day isn't over yet!
Friday the 6th - HUGE thunderstorm to kick off the rainy season. I sat out on my little verandah to watch and listen to the spectacle. One thunderclap sounded right over the house (I've never heard one closer), scaring me badly enough to duck and cover my head, and making Jackie scream and fall down inside the house.
Saturday the 7th - We visited a woman who is living with HIV and had been so neglected by her family that she was found essentially starving to death. Leah had been to visit her several times, and was present the day she was found, but it was my first visit to her in the hospital. I'll spare you all the details, but they let me be a tiny bit helpful in getting her dressed and fed, but I wasn't the one who had to clean her up, if you know what I mean. She was so sweet, and so grateful to be alive, and she gave us a thumbs up as we left. (Second runner up for best highlight was a call from my parents.)
Sunday the 8th - I got my second roommate, another Tanzanian woman named Beatrice, and we had some Leah and two of our friends, Mseti and Paulo, over for lunch. It was the first time I felt like I fit in with these young people as one of their peers, in a similar, but different, way to my friends back home. We had a fantastic conversation, and had some meat for lunch that Jackie had cooked in the taco spices I brought from home, which turned out to be a hit.
Monday the 9th - Leah and I attempted our first public cooking spectacle: French Toast. It was the 14th birthday of my Tanzanian little brother, Victor, so we made some French Toast for the whole family, sweetening it by making a kind of sugar syrup and pouring it into the egg/milk mix. People enjoyed it so much I attempted it later in the week for another crowd, and got similar enthusiasm.
Tuesday the 10th - Small triumphs: I finished The State of Africa, which I had been reading for work, and The Man in the Brown Suit I re-read in almost one sitting out on the verandah.
Wednesday the 11th - So many great things happened this day. First Jackie, Beatrice, and I hosted the church staff meeting at our house in the morning, where I asked them to go around and affirm the person on their right. They'd never done anything like that before, and it was lovely to see them encouraging them one another. Mama Neema, the accountant, said such beautiful things about me that I nearly cried. Later at a planning meeting for the HIV Community Event, (remember how I was learning to dance for this event?), someone said "Why do we need to change the ngoma (dancing)? If Leisha can dance with her hips, surely the rest of us can." I'll take that as a compliment. Best of all, we finally got to the post office, and I had a book from my Grandma Adams and a stack of photos of my family from my Grandma Jones. Grandmas are the best!
Thursday the 12th - Does it sound callous to say that the highlight of today was firing my house help? She'd been making me dread the days she came to clean because she didn't clean well, didn't cook well, was rude to my roommates, always demanded breakfast that I didn't even have for myself, and might have been stealing sugar and oil. She's gone now, although she made it clear that I can call her if I want to hire her to do my laundry, which she's actually decent at. The lowlight of today is that I haven't had a soda. First day in probably two weeks that I haven't had at least one soda, although the day isn't over yet!
06 November 2009
Things I love about my house...
I love that the front gate sticks, so you have to either finesse it open or use brute force. It's a good mark of my attitude which one I resort to.
I love the flowering shrubs and trees and bushes all over my compound. It's really peaceful, and it cuts down on the dust that blows everywhere else in town.
I love that the kitchen is big and has a table in it, so when my roommate, Jackie, or I are cooking (aka Jackie cooking and me cutting veggies or watching), we have plenty of room to move and hang out together. More about Jackie to come in the future.
I love, love, love my bedroom. It's large and still lacking in important furniture, but it gets lots of natural light during the day, and is just peaceful.
I love this spot. This is my favorite part of the whole house. It's my verandah, overlooking the fruit trees along the side of the house. Nearly every day after work I come here and relax, read, text with people in the States, or just sit and think. It's amazing how much free time there is with no internet access at home, no television, no taking work home with me (which I have promised myself that I will absoutely not do). This is where I relax and take introverted time for myself. Sometimes Jackie or Leah join me here, but we just have quiet conversation or read. It's really nice.
So now that you've seen my house, come join me! I have lots of room for guests, and you can even partake from the oranges and pomegranates growing in the compound. There might even be water, if you come at the right time of year, which is not right now.
Best to all of you!
27 October 2009
Various snippets of my life here
Leah and I got a special treat yesterday: apples. That's right, they sell apples here, although at an exorbitant price. A single smallish apple costs 500 shillings, or about 40 cents. Compare that to a huge mango at 300 shillings, or 22 cents. Nonetheless, in celebration of October and the autumn happening in the Pacific Northwest and the five minutes of rain we had on Friday, Leah and I treated ourselves to two apples each. Such luxury!
I went to a birthday party on Saturday for the one-year-old son of my good friends Manase and Neema Mhana. The first time I came to Dodoma they were recently engaged. The second time I came they were recently married. The third time I came they were recently pregnant. Now little Yohana (John) is a year old already! Like all parties here it was long...we came two hours late and were there for three hours. There is a program that reads very much like a church service, complete with multiple sermons and the same music we hear on Sunday mornings. These parties are a bit grueling, being entirely in Kiswahili, so my understanding is limited, and there is always a ton of great food at the end of the program, although I never can eat as much as is expected of me. Still, there is something charming and fun about these parties, which happen regularly for a huge variety of reasons.I moved into my house yesterday! I realized this morning that I still don't have any pictures of my house, but those will be coming soon. The whole house came furnished, which is good because a) I don't have much stuff, and b) I hate shopping, so I probably would have gone ages with one bowl, one cup, and a box to sit on. I'll do a dedicated blog post with photos, etc. soon.
What I'm reading, watching, and listening to:
Reading: The State of Africa by Martin Meredith, "The Case for Early Marriage" in Christianity Today, and the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde
Watching: Season One of Friday Night Lights and Lars and the Real Girl (which is so excellent!)
Listening to: Mars Hill Bible Church's series on the Sermon on the Mount, Imago Dei's sermon series on Living in the Story of God, N.T. Wright's speech titled "Living the Language of Life: New Creation and Christian Virtue" for the 12th or so time, and a free playlist of folk music that's really good.
Final note: If you read my previous blog post, you'd have appreciated that yesterday that gentleman had a solo, and he absolutely rocked it. It was beautiful. Also, one of our sponsored kids, Charles, is standing at my elbow watching me type, chewing on a piece of plastic that he found on the floor of my office. Guess I need to sweep this place!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)