I Am the Walrus

As I walk to the water pump with my bucket in hand, I am greeted by many village faces that have now become familiar to me. I stop to say hello to each of them. Mama Joyce asks if I am going to "chota maji" to which I reply "ndio." Then she laughs a bit, and asks if I can actually carry the bucket on my head. I tell her that I don't know, but I'm gonna try. She laughs a bit more and I continue to the well. I get to the well I wait patiently for my turn to get water. There are about 7 women at the well today and a bunch of watoto. An older boy greets me and asks why I don't just pay another person to get water for me. I tell him that I can get water for myself. He laughs and gives me a high five. It's finally my turn and the kids help me to fill my bucket. Then the time comes for me to put the bucket on my head. I have an audience. I wrap up my kanga into a ball and put it on my head. One of the Mamas helps me lift the bucket and place it comfortably on my head. I stand up and start walking. Granted yes, it was a small bucket and there are women in my village who run around with the monster buckets topped off with a smaller bucket on their head, but I'm working on it. As I say goodbye to the women at the well and turn to walk away, many of them can't even get the words out to say goodbye because they are laughing so hard. I knew that the walk home was going to be a tough one, not because of the bucket full of water on my head, but because of the attention I was going to get. As I make my way through the main road in my village, everyone that sees me begins to smile and greet me. A family outside their house sees me and begins to laugh, so I greet them and use my free hand to give them a thumbs up. I can hear wrinkly old bibis choking on their own laughter far off in the distance. I have a train of watoto quick on my heels. Finally I arrive at my house...and the buckets still full! I will need some more practice though. There are many instances in my village, such as this one, when I might as well be a walrus. Try as I might, I am not African, and I can't seem to blend in. That's ok though. I was laughing with all of them on my way home that day. I've gotten used to it. I really am the walrus of Nanjota.
Well, I've been in living in Nanjota for 4 weeks now. I have definitely learned a lot in such a short period of time. This past week, I was talking with some of the village youth at the local soko (shop) about America. They were all very interested to know if I knew Lil Wayne personally, as well as Fat Joe, and Akon. I said no, unfortunately we're not BFF, but I'll try to tell them that you say hi.
One day this week I got to help out at the village clinic. That day was baby weighing day! Kilian, the village chairman, came to my house and we walked to the clinic. As we walk up to the building, the sound of babies crying is overwhelming. We turn the corner to see the outside waiting area filled with women with their babies wrapped up in kangas. I take a seat at the table in the center of the room next to a man who begins to call out names. To my right there's a scale with a hook hanging from the rafters of the building, and on the table next to me are a bunch of blue shorts with a long suspender attached to them. On this day, I saw more boobs than I've ever seen in my life. As I look around, the room is just a bolstering chaos of watoto and Mamas, who are very auick to whip out the boob if only to shut the kid up. The Mamas who are being called begin to line up, and hand me the baby weighing cards. When a baby is born, they receive cards to track the baby's weight. There were many cards with fluctuating weight, and sometimes I could see that there had been a time period of weight loss for a lot of kids. The Mamas begin to shove the kids into these blue trousers and proceed to hook the suspender on the scale, allowing the kid to dangle and squirm around in the air as I try to get an accurate reading on the scale. Some of them just hung there, cool and calm, while others were screaming bloody murder. As I sat next to the scale, I think I definitely struck fear into the hearts of a few of them, and they were more scared of me than they were of the whole weighing process. I saw one of the Mamas from the AIDS group walk in with her baby. Amongst the chaotic noise of screaming mothers and crying babies, she and her baby, Fatuma, were very calm and quiet. She sat down and I smiled and greeted her, and couldn't help but wonder the Fatuma's status. But Fatuma wasn't scared of me! I held her for a bit and talked while Fatuma waited for her turn at the scale for a flying lesson.
The next day was Sikuku,and the last day of Ramadhan, so there was a huge celebration in the village. Everyone was very excited because they had been fasting for the past month and were starving! I started my day by visiting my neighbor, Mama Swaum, and she taught me how to make pilau, or dirty rice....delicious by the way. Then I moved on to Mama Lazia, who had cooked up the biggest sufuria of pilau I had ever seen in my life. I ate....and then I ate again....oh and then one more time. Once I got to the point of projectile vomiting, I waddled over to the village playing field to watch the big soccer game that would be starting at 4:00 that day. It was Nanjota versus a neighboring village (I can't remember the name). Everyone from the village was there, and I thought to myself that this is probably like the Nanojta version of the NFL, and I had a front row seat. There were people walking around selling corn and mandazi and things. The game was really exciting, and the Nanjota team was amazing! There was one player without shoes. They all played really well, and we won that day. Afterwards everyone in the crowd started singing and dancing and running on the field.
The next morning, I was on my way out of the house to go to a neighbor's house, but decided to go to the choo first. I close the door and take position, when all of a sudden my phone falls out of my shirt pocket and lands dangerously close to the choo hole. The phone fell apart and started sliding, and luckily I quickly slapped my hand down to catch it. I let out a sigh of relief, and lift up my hand to examine the phone.....where's the battery?.....ummm....where's the battery?....no really, am I going crazy? It should be here, where is it? where's the battery?! I run into the house and grab my head lamp. I run back to choo and look down into the pit of the choo to see my phone battery placed conveniently atop a heap of my own crap....I quickly weigh my options in my head. I can't buy a new battery until I go into town which isn't for another week, and my mom's going to the hospital for surgery in two days....I need that battery NOW. I run around my courtyard and outside my house. I find a few long sturdy sticks and some rope. I proceed to tie them together. I grab a plastic cup and tie it to the end of my new battery fishing rod. Once I decide my contraption is ready to withstand the depths of the choo, I decide I need to put on some armer for this battle. I grab a dirty kanga and wrap it around myself and strap my head lamp on nice and snug. Ok choo, I'm ready. I think I spent about an hour and a half with as much of my body down that choo hole as was humanly possible. It smelled bad, and I was tired, but didn't want to give up. I could see the battery at the bottom of the pit, and shoved it around for a good long while, but for some reason it just wouldn't jump into the cup I had tied to the end of the rod......(sidenote: CJ, the choo pit kind of reminds me of the Bog of Eternal Stench, so you should feel really special that you were in my thoughts at that moment in time...it did make me smile despite my position). It was dark, it was late, and the choo had won the fight. I gave up, retired my fishing rod, and walked back towards the house with my head hung low. The next morning, I visited my WEO for a bit and told her about my plight. She told me that my neighbor was going into Masasi that day. Yay! My Savior! I ran home and grabbed 10,000 shillings to give him before he left. He came back that day with a shiny new battery that didn't smell like poop, and I was ever so grateful. I charged it up with my spiffy solar charger and talked to my mom. The surgery went well, and all is right with the world once again. But my old battery still sits at the bottom of my choo. Thanks a lot choo for eating my battery.....I definitely learned my lesson.
I talked with Rebecca on the phone for a while too the next day. She's very far away, living in Mbeya. But she told me that her WEO gave her a live chicken as a present when she got to her village. We decided to name her Hitler, so that when the day came when it was time to execute her, she wouldn't feel quite so bad. During the first week of having the chicken, Rebecca and Hitler had a love hate relationship. Hitler had only laid one egg, and she kept running away. I told her she needed to get a leash and a collar for Hitler. She said the idea of killing her is looking better and better with each day. We decided that for Thanksgiving, we should try to reunite and maybe use Hitler as our turkey dinner. We'll see how long she lasts.
Next week, I'm starting my house to house survey of the village to learn more about what the villagers of Nanjota need. I've met many of them already, and have already talked to many families that I hope I will be able to help. There are many households with kids who can't go to school for various reasons, single mothers, or sick elders, and a lot of really young moms. There are a number of orphans in the village that I've noticed because they come to my house everyday while the other kids are in school. I've gotten to know one of my neighbors, Mama Anza, really well. She's lived in Nanjota her whole life, and has three kids. Their father left to go to school in Dar es Salaam, and isn't coming back. She works really hard taking care of her kids and cleaning house, so doesn't really have an income. We usually go to the watering hole together. She is definitely someone that I'm happy to know, and hope to be able to help.
I think that's all I got for right now. I will try to write again soon. Thanks to everyone for following me and all of your support. Here's my new address if you want to send me anything. You have no idea how happy I am to get letters once in a while! Until next time.....word of warning: if you happen to go to the choo, make sure your phone is secure. K thanks.

P.O. Box 218
Masasi, Mtwara Region
East Africa, Tanzania

I'm Still Alive!

I have survived the first couple of weeks at site, which I've heard is the roughest part. My house is still pretty empty. I'm been living off of oatmeal and spponfuls of peanut butter. I got a table and four chairs but the children quickly broke one leg of the table so I'm back to square one now. They're pretty much in my house all day everyday, playing cards, drawing, or making fun of me for not understanding a word they're saying. I hope I get to the point one day when someone talks to me and I don't have a dumb confused look on my face. But I rarely get to speak English anymore, so I'm sure I'll get there sooner than later.
On Monday, my VEO, Dickson, and the Village Chairman, Kilian, took me on a tour of the village schools. We started at the nursery, which was basically like a kindergarden. I walk through the gates and a swarm of short little bodies wearing bright green and yellow dresses and shorts swarm me. They are screaming and laughing and chanting "shikamoo!" at me. They are literally slapping each other in the face to get a chance to hold my hand. They were so cute. I decided that if I'm ever having a bad day, I just need to go to the nursery for a bit. Then we walked over to the primary school, which is right in front of my house. The kids there wear the same uniform as the ones in Kilulu, white blouses with blue shorts and skirts. Kilian and Dickson took me into the Mwalimu Mkuu, or Principal's, office to meet him and talk a bit. His name is Mwalimu Mawilo. After talking a bit, he went outside and I hear the stampede of kids beginning to line up outside the building, and I know what's coming. I can't see him, but I can hear him saying something to the mob of students in a very stern voice. He returns to the office and motions to me to come. I walk outside and the whole school of students are lined up waiting for me to introduce myself. Mwalimu Mawilo says, "Ongea, karibu!" In unison, the students all greet me with a "Good Morning!" I proceed to introduce myself once again in Swahili and tell them why I'm there. I did see some familiar faces of kids I had gotten to know around the village already, and I definitely already have a group that comes to my house daily. After the Mwalimu Mkuu says a few more words the students disperse and we say goodbye. We start the long walk to the secondary school next. These kids are around 14 to 18 years old. I meet Mwalimu Sarah, the Mwalimu Mkuu for the secondary school. She can speak more English than anyone I had met thus far, so I took the opportunity to ask as many questions as I could think of. Then, she took me to each classroom, and I gave each class my introduction shpeel. I also told them that I'd be around for the next 2 years and if they have questions about America...karibu! After hearing this, many of them literally jumped out of their seats, raised their hands and begged me to answer them. Mwalimu Sarah sternly told them to "Sit Down!" and that I would be able to answer all of their questions later.
After seeing the schools, I also got a chance to visit the hospital and village health clinic. There are two nurses and one doctor for the hospital. The health clinic is mostly used for vaccinations and pregnant mothers. I returned to the clinic one day this week to visit, and happened to come just in time to witness a woman give birth. The baby was 3.5 kilograms. I didn't watch the actual birth, but the nurses called me to come into the room soon after. They asked me to think of a name for the baby, and I just laughed. I told the new Mama hongera. She looked pretty tired. No meds for her. She just had to sit and wait for him to come out! I also talked with the nurse there about the patients that come in. She said they do have HIV/AIDS counselling for new mothers, but I don't know yet how much information they actually get.
After my day of meeting all the village schools, and birthing babies, I still had my village meeting with the wazee, or the village elders. We head over to the village office, and I take a seat at the front of the room with Dickson and Kilian. The elders slowly make their way into the room and we begin the meeting. Kilian starts the meeting and proceeds to talk a bit about me. Then, we go around the room, and each man stands up, introduces himself, and welcomes me. One man stood up and took a few steps towards me. He began to speak very quickly and muddled, but he did raise his voice, and he was gesturing with his hands. I was sitting in my seat with a look of fear in my eyes. I had no idea what he was saying to me, but I did know that he was talking to me and that he sounded angry. Later I come to find out that he was simply welcoming me to Nanjota and that all of the wazee are very happy to have me as part of the community. Dickson and Kilian laughed at me when I told them that I was a bit afraid of him.....it was a long day, and I slept well that night....except for the fact that I have a new bedtime friend. I'm sitting in the darkness underneath my mosquito net. I roll over and wake up to a high pitched squeaking noise. Dare I turn on my light to find the source of this mysterious noise?...Oh yes, I dare. I turn on my light and take a look around. In the right corner of the ceiling at the foot of my bed there is a bat hanging upside down. His beady little eyes reflect off the light of my flashlight. He begins to spread his nasty little wings. I quickly turn off my light and begin to play dead. Maybe he didn't see me. Oh well, I woke up alive the next morning so no harm done. I'm thinking of naming him, but haven't decided on a name yet....maybe Fredrick.
Over the next few days, I tried to get out of the house as much as I could. I visited the school again, I've been playing with the kids. I've been cooking with my neighbors, sitting at the duka (shop) or Nanjota chai bucks and trying to talk with people. I can't really go anywhere or do anything without people knowing. But everyone knows my name and yells "Kamerooni!" at me whenever I walk by, demanding that I come and talk for a while. He takes me quite a while to get anywhere.
I think I've had about 5 marriage proposals thus far. I was sitting outside of my house one afternoon playing with the kids. An older man with one bad eye walks up to me and puts out his hand.
He says, "Hello Mr. Kamerooni."
"Um...hello."
"How are you? Are you ok?"
"Nzuri sana. Na wewe?"
"No! No Swahili. I want to speak English to you."
".....ok."
"I want to marry you."
I laugh...."why?"
"I want to marry you. You will be my wife....because you are a daughter, and I am a son...his and hers....We will get married."
"....no we won't. I don't want to get married right now."
"Not right now? You say no today. I will come tomorrow..you will say yes."
"....ok whatever...kesho!"

I also get a lot of people asking me for money. One man has greeted me a couple times in the morning telling me that he needs me to give him money so that he can buy a machine to harvest his cashews. I have to explain to a lot of people that I'm a volunteer and that I didn't come to Nanjota to hand out money. Luckily my VEO lives next door, and we have dubbed him my bodyguard. He's usually around to alleviate the situation.
Yesterday, I went to a meeting for a group of women who are infected with AIDS. It was small, and I'm sure there are many more people in the village who are infected, but are ashamed to be open about their status. A couple of the women had babies, and they don't know their status yet. I couldn't understand a lot of what was being said during the meeting, but my WEO was able to explain it to me later. They are trying to open up a bank account for the group and start up some kind of business to generate income for themselves. They don't have much money because either their husbands have passed away, or they're too sick to work, or various other reasons. Many of them are farmers. They were all very welcoming, and I could definitely see myself becoming very involved with this group in some way.
Since then, I've just been trying to study more Swahili, talking with people as much as I can, cooking, and getting my water, which is quite a task. Water conservation has taken on a new meaning for me. I got to come into town again this weekend to see the other volunteers and to buy a bicycle. I was waiting at the end of the barabara, or road, to catch the daladala to get here this morning when a man in a long black trench coat and a bright orange beanie runs up to me from across the road. He has a camera around his neck that looks like its about 20 years old and he tells me that him and his friends want to take a picture with me. I say ok, and he begins to take my picture while various people are jumping into the frame and posing with me. It was such a bizarre moment for me. It was my first experience with the paparazzi of Tanzania.
While these guys all wanted to take a picture with me, or marry me, when it comes to younger children or babies, they seem to be deathly afraid. I was walking to the watering hole the other day with a couple of friends, and we walked by this house with three small children lined up outside. All at once they shouted "Shikamoo Mzungu!" at me. So I laughed and ran up to them and said "Nipe tano!" and held out my hand for a high five. They instantly broke out in tears and ran away....oops. I guess I'm really scary.
Apart from the frightenend children, I've made a lot of friends, and Nanjota is starting to feel more and more like a home everyday. I love the people, and am trying desperately to learn the language more. As far as the work I'll be doing, I'm really excited and can already see opportunities where I could help. It will definitely be challenging and I have a long way to go, but if my homestay Mama were here she would just tell me "Pole pole Kamerooni".....take your time, you'll get there.