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