I guess I’ve settled into a routine here in Moshi Town, not much to blog about in the past couple of weeks. Last weekend was great though, I was at a friend’s house on Saturday and he has really cute little neighbors, three girls. A lot of babies here are afraid of white people, so at first when he tried to hand me the baby she cried. But eventually I worked my way into her trust and had her on my lap and her older sister beside me nearly all day. At one point I handed her off to a friend and she peed on his lap (no diapers), which I thought was pretty great timing. Then later I was sitting there alone (I think the guys had gone to get soda or something) and the neighbor came in and without saying a word put the baby on my lap and left. Later we brought the kids with us down the road to walk a friend to his car so I had a baby on one hip and was holding hands with the older one. Then my friend tried to take the baby to say bye and she clung on to me and wouldn’t go to him. The Amani kids are older so it’s nice to get some quality cuddle time in with little ones.
Sunday I visited one of my coworkers at his house, got a proper tour, saw his mama’s compound, where he was born and everything. A lot of workers at Amani live nearby each other, pretty close to Amani actually. We went to the local pub (for lack of a better word, not really a pub, hard to describe) and had pork that he had slaughtered that morning. I had been invited to the slaughtering but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to watch that, and I didn’t really want to get up that early. The pork was really good, different than anything at home; we also had roasted bananas. I was stared at the entire time because there are rarely, if ever, white people at that place. And everyone was saying to my coworker that he must have lots of money, just because he knows a white person. Later I tried mbege for the first time, which is Chaga (a local tribe) banana beer. A lot of my friends had tried mbege and warned me how gross it is, it kind of looks like vomit, you nearly have to chew it. But it wasn’t that bad; you drink out of a bucket and pass it around sharing with everyone. While we had mbege we played cards with a bunch of his friends, well, they played, I was mostly confused. I still have no idea how to play that game. They were all really impressed with how I shuffled cards though; it was hilarious! Just the regular way most Americans do it. They kept asking me to show them over and over, and over and over and over again. Later we walked down to the riverside, there were a bunch of naked boys swimming there who at first freaked out a little because a mzungu was there, but quickly grew comfortable enough to see who could splash me the most. I wasn’t really comfortable swimming though; I wasn’t about to strip down with everyone staring at me like a zoo exhibit.
The discrimination here is quite strange. First off everyone thinks you’re rich, and comparatively speaking, you are. If only they knew how much I owe in student loans! Also, most people think you’re kind of an idiot; you’re not taken seriously. Mzungu means someone who wanders around with no purpose. It’s discriminatory and an insult. I figure it’s OK for kids to say it, but I ignore adults who do so. Today I actually had someone yell “Hey white!” to me, seriously. You’re also charged higher prices for everything, mzungu price. Even at formal institutions like museums you’re charged mzungu price. When you walk around you’re kind of like a celebrity, which I guess can be entertaining but for the most part is annoying. The more Swahili I know though the more accepted I feel.
I did walk to Amani a lot last week, it takes about an hour. There is a daladala but I need the exercise. It’s funny talking to new people here and realizing the things that have become normal to me. Goat skull on the walk to work, eh, normal. Guy on a pikipiki (motorcycle) with at least twenty 5 gallon buckets strapped to the back of it, like a bunch of balloons, eh, see that every day. Forty people shoved into a daladala (the size of a VW microbus), fifteen people in the back of a pick-up truck, cows standing in the back of a pick-up truck, live pigs in a box on the back of a pikipiki, normal.
We’ve gotten a lot of new kids at Amani in the past week. There is one in particular who is in really bad shape. He just looks awful, sickly, the worst I’ve seen yet, and he’s tested positive for HIV. I nearly cry just looking at him, but then he flashes me the cutest smile (his teeth are way too big for his little mouth) and I can’t help but smile back. I really hope to see him grow healthy and strong with the help of Amani. It’s hard seeing a little boy with HIV and knowing that he is going to have a short life. Hopefully he stays at Amani so he can receive the proper treatment and medication, but there’s only so much that can be done.
When diagnosed with HIV patients aren’t immediately put on medication, only when their T cell count gets below a certain point are they put on medication. Then, the virus is constantly mutating and becoming immune to the medicine, so they have to change to a new medicine. There are only so many medications, so once the course is finished, that’s it. HIV doesn’t kill people, but patients have practically no immune system, and can die from very common things that most peoples’ bodies would just fight off.
At first I see these kids and I'm sad that they've had to go through such awful things, then I think, they didn't have to, some human being did this to them. And that just makes me furious! The things people can do are just awful and shocking. We all know it happens, but to see the results of it every day is different. I have a new buddy at Amani, he's almost always with me (when not in class) and is always writing me love notes. He has the sweetest, saddest eyes. He has a big scar on his arm where his father cut him, nearly took his arm off. And scars all over from where his father burnt him and electrocuted him. What makes it even sadder is that he is still homesick, but it will never be safe for him to go home. He will grow up at Amani.
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On a lighter note, here’s some more Swahili for your thoughts:
Kweli - truth/true/really
Kicha – crazy
Ng’ombe – cow (like the ng in ‘singing’)
Kitimoto – pork (literally “hot chair”, because Muslims aren’t supposed to eat it, so they sneak it real fast, like the chair is hot :P )
Pikipiki – motorcycle
Bodaboda – motorcycle taxi
Daladala – public bus (like a VW microbus)
A lot of words are also like English, with a Boston accent:
Bia – beer
Numba – number
Pepa – paper
Penseli – pencil
Baiskel - bicycle
Gauni-dress (gown)
The months are practically English as well: Januari, Februari, Machi, Aprili, Mei, Juni, Julai, Agost, Septemba, Oktoba, Novemba, Desemba
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| We made shakers in music club this week! The kids (and staff) thought it was ridiculous to put rice in toilet paper rolls, "Hapana mwalimu, chakula!" (No teacher, food!). I think most kids broke them open and ate the raw rice after class, it was hard enough keeping them from eating it during class. |
