Mama Liz's Journal

ARCHIVE
10.1.03 - 12.31.03
1.1.04 - 5.31.04
3.1.05 - 4.30.05
5.1.05 - 6.30.05
7.1.05 - 8.31.05
11.1.05 - 12.31.05
11.1.05 - 12.31.05
2.14.08 - 2.07.09

02.14.08
Sent: Thursday, February 14, 2008 2:05 AM
Subject: nina hapa (I am here)
To:Everyone

Well, it's hot and dusty. My cabby drove like he was being chased by terrorists (Pedestrians are faster than ever, asante Mungu). There was no mint on my pillow BUT there is a mismatched pair of zoris for my shower. It's good to be back. I'm at the internet cafe down the street because the one at the hotel doesn't work. Neither does the TV, but the zoris more than make up for that.

The trip was long, I haven't added it up yet, but long will suffice. I had decided not to take a cashiers check, as they are NOT the same as money here. Also opted out of travelers checks, because the banks charge a fee PER check, which left me carrying a large sum of money on my person, in 50 and 100 notes.

My friend Debra took an old stretchy camisole and sewed the money into the lining, two bunches in front and one bunch in back. I wore it under a sweater. Comfortable, safe, yet strangely tittilating.So I traveled for 2 days, and across 3 continents with what amounted to a $10,000 brazierre. Sort of a Victorias Secret for the middle aged. Fear not, Debra, if your night job doesn't work out you can make a fortune outfitting Columbian drug mules.

A word about plane food. I went with the vegetarian option this time, the others being Kosher or the normal gut busting American fare. The vegan stuff wasn't bad, although someone should tell KLM that curried veggies is only one of many non meat options. Next time it's Kosher.

Flights were long but mostly comfortable,the flight from Amsterdam to Nairobi was fabulous. Because of the recent troubles in Kenya, the plane was less than half full so we all got to stretch out and sleep. I imagine flights to Iraq are even roomier now, although I doubt I'll have that Kosher option.

I'm a little sleep deprived so this will be short. I want to thank all of you for the support. These last few weeks so many of you came up to me with checks, or just slipped money into my pocket. It's good to know I'll never be stranded. And also thanks for the big party. You all are so good.

It's hot in the internet cafe. And you thought all internet places needed to be air conditioned. Nope, not at all. It's certainly a courtesy to the computer, but apparently not a necesstiy. And the keys are so busy, there's our alphabet, plus Arabic, and something else I don't recognise. And as I am a hunt and peck kind of girl, it's pretty distracting. Gotta go, lots to do, mostly buy some water. As I said earlier, it's good to be back.
Nakupenda.

[ Top of Page ]

02.18.08
Sent: Monday, February 18, 2008 3:59 AM
Subject: twiga na tembo na nyani O MY
To:Everyone

So that's Kiswahili for lions and tigers and bears... Only it was giraffes, elephants and monkeys. The ride from Dar to Mbeya was the normal 12 or so hours, however the driver was unusually sedate. Probably had a lot to do with the 7, yep, 7 major accidents we saw as we travelled. Big buses and trucks all smashed. The people in the vehicles, outside by that time, looked ok. Didn't get a chance to check out possible carnage inside, as we didn't stop. They never stop. Asante Mungu I am here unscathed.

Saw loads of animals on the way. It's rainy season and everything is green and lovely, and the watering holes are full. So theres animals lounging around, just like in the National Geographic. I think this is one reason why I like this place.

As a kid I always looked at the NatGeo, never read one article but loved the pictures. So I'm sitting at the bus depot in Dar and a Massai tribesman comes walking through. I LOVE THIS PLACE. I'm living in a magazine, I still don't read the articles, but you do. Pole.

Pole means sorry. Helen requested I translate Swahili words. Zoris, for all you who wrote to ask, are Japanese rubber slippers. So I was able to get up here with my limited Kiswahili. People are still laughing, but more snickers and not the hearty guffaws I got before I took my computer course.

I'm livin' large in Mbeya. The house has electric, running water and an indoor SITDOWN choo (toilet, Helen). The water is brown, actually more beige, but it's rainy season and I'm thinking things will improve as it drys up.

The choo is a bucket flush, a step up from the hole in the ground. All in all it's fine; but I miss the cows I could see from the window in my old outdoor choo in the village. I'll be in Mbeya for a couple months, then out to the village, where the water is probably still brown and the cows are waiting to watch me urinate.I tell you, I'm fascinating over here.

I had lunch with Martha, and she helped me buy a phone. Then she programmed it for me, a job that in America belonged to Debra. Also saw a bunch of my old street kid friends. They're taller, skinnier and smellier and it was good to see them. I always buy them food, so if it's ok with all you donors out there, this will be part of the monthly expenses.

Will go to dinner at a friends house tonight. I won't be doing too much work this week, mostly catching up and visiting. I'm headed out to Idweli in a few days to see the kids and everyone.

The internet has improved, I heard there's actually broadband in some places. Hot damn! But still no airconditioning. I tell you, you guys are spoiling your computers over there. Running out of time. Everyone take care. Nakupenda (figure that one out Helen)Mama Liz

[ Top of Page ]

02.25.08
Sent: Monday, February 25, 2008 4:22 AM
Subject: I am fat
To:Everyone

Or at least that's the general concensus in my old stompin' grounds Idweli. "O Mama Liz, you are fat." And then "O Mama Liz, you are very fat." But it was said with many smiles and I didn't feel the need to purge after dinner.

All is well.I spent the afternoon in the village, saw a lot of kids and old friends. The preschool is now located at the primary school so when I finish these first 2 projects I may move over there and do their preschool. The old head teacher, Mkopa by name but His Heinous to me, was demoted to regular teacher and sent to another village. This makes me happy for a number of reasons, the most important being that the new guy is ok (I heard). Maybe I can work with him and do some walls in the primary classes. We'll see.

My Kiswahili is moving along daily. The other day I went to the market and first bargained, then purchased, 1 pineapple, 4 avocados, 5 tomatoes, 2 eggs and a litre of maji (water) in near perfect Kiswahili, and all for 2200 tsh. That's $2.20 USD. Not bad.

I've found a place to hang out, a little duka (store) that sells fabric. The ladies are mostly my age, and between my Kiswahili and their English we do just fine. So at the end of the day I go to the shop and we sit around with our feet up on Coca-Cola crates and let them unswell. And while this happens other women come by with fruits and veggies in big baskets on their heads and we can shop without even putting our feet down. Life is good.

So the other day I was out of nguo safi (clean clothes) and decided to wrap my kitange around my reappearing waist and head to town. The kitange is a colorful local cloth worn by women as a skirt or wrapped in another fashion and used for a hat. Only in Africa are skirts and hats interchangeable. I love this place.

I'm walking around and my skirt is untying every 5 seconds so I'm required to walk with one hand clutching my waist, in mortal fear of being naked before God and all Mbeya with insufficient Kiswahili to explain cellulite, should they ask, and they would.

I decided to ask my new friends how they manage to keep their skirts on. I'm thinking I'm about to be initiated into some ancient african secret. So anyway Amina was very obliging and lifted her blouse and she's got a piece of string tying the whole thing together. So much for ancient secrets. Either way I am now modestly clad, Asante Mungu.

I've been noticing improvements around here, and in Idweli as well. THERE'S PHONES IN THE VILLAGE! It happened sometime last year. How cool. I have a phone too. The daladalas are charging twice the old fare, but they're not crammed so full. I like it, but still it's lost some of the old thrill you get packed in cheek to cheek, or butt to butt, (or cheek to butt). Still chickens on the bus, sitting quietly, unaware that this is probably their first and last ride.

The old chief in Idweli was run out of town, a wonderful thing. He was a crooked old geezer who ruled through fear and intimidation and everyone is happier with him gone.

Some details.. Lynette, Nancy V, Carm and Lori Mhoons emails didn't work, so will someone please ask them to email me and all will be sawa. How to donate. Lots of you have asked, so just go to the website www.everychild-everyvillage.org and press the donate button. Asante.

Started the first project on Saturday. Will do the preschool at my friends secretarial college. Have hired a local man to help with the prep work. The walls are chafu sana and need washing. Looking for a local artist to help with the actual work. Maybe you already knew this, but I have no talent, however I don't mind paying folks who do, and I can fill in and color pretty well.

You younger ladies need to get over here and check out my housemate. There are 3 of us, but Dominic is 24, and from Quebec. He has a French accent and he's very handsome. So you should come here. He's not the only cutie around either. Haven't noticed anyone interesting for me yet. Amina from the store said I should stay away from African men because I'm lazy and no self respecting African man would have me. This after she found out I don't cook and I hire out my laundry.

This is too long. Pole sana. But there's so much to tell. I'm hungry, so will head to Babu Kubwas for some vegetable samosas. Everyone take care of yourselves. For those who didn't get emails last trip, I can't answer personal emails but will try to address everything in the gangmails. Nakupenda.
Mama Liz

[ Top of Page ]

03.03.08
Sent: Monday, March 03, 2008 4:26 AM
Subject: I am fat, Part 2
To:Everyone

Went to Idweli again this past weekend, where I was reminded YET AGAIN how fat I have gotten. Only this time, Mama Rose (who in reality is fatter than I am), felt the need to not only exclaim over my recent weight gain but also to point out exactly where all this weight has landed. " Hapa, na hapa, na hapa" Translation, here, and here, and here. Oy gevalt! Still not feeling the need to lock myself in the choo and vomit, but I may be more welcoming the next time some malaria ridden female Anopheles zooms by my head at night.

The ride to the village was comforting in it's sameness. Saw the usual cows, pigs, chickens and goats roaming freely through the yards and gardens, stealing all the ground maize they could grab on the fly. (After the mahindi (maize) is ground, it's laid out on a mat to dry in the sun.Then it becomes ugali). One of my old jobs in the village was to throw rocks at the pigs when they tried to snatch it. That was my morning job, I taught English in the afternoon.

Then there are the grubby little boys, some no more than 2 or 3, who chase the cows with a stick. One was especially grubby, and wore only a dirty shirt. In America this kid would be head to toe in protective equipment. And pants.

I love the women here, this place would truly be nowhere without them. So strong, and they work so hard. Saw about 5 of them stopping by the roadside to chat and they ALL had these huge bundles of branches on their heads. 5-6 feet long, each branch as thick as my wrist. About 30 of them tied up in a bunch, balanced perfectly on their heads while they talk about their kids and complain about their husbands.

I try to close my eyes when we pass on a uphill curve in the rain, or just look out the window at the countryside; which is gorgeous, with all the different crops growing in patches up and down the hill. Very pastoral and calming. But even then there's usually some guy by the side of the road peeing, sometimes facing away from the road, often times not, but invariably waving at passersby.

Saw all my old friends in Idweli, and most of the kids. All the chekichea (preschool) kids are in primary school now, and they look so cute in their uniforms. Most of the older kids are in secondary school, doing fine.

Talked to the new, and hopefully improved, village chairman re the possibility of a remedial center/library in the village. I am going back next Friday and we will have a meeting. But all the kids and women I spoke to want it so hopefully it\s a go.

Having a problem with the computer here. All the little symbols above the numbers are mixed up, so you never know what you\ll get when you press the desired symbol. Up to now I have been using the trial and error method but I don\t have time for all that so today you can figure it out and I\ll go to another cafe next week. Safi.

Work continues on the preschool rooms. I have a wonderful prep guy. His name is Samweli, and he\s hardworking and most of all, on time. I pay him $7 USD per room|per coat. This is a tidy little sum for Tanzania. He works as a relief security guard at my friend Chris\s school, and this is very welcome money.

The prep work will be completed today, and the artist comes tomorrow. I am getting offers for work almost daily, so if anyone feels the need, come on over.

Not doing much medically so far, except a dressing change. I\ve been going to this kid\s home a few times a week to dress his wound. He was hit by a car and has a nasty wound on his leg above the knee. He lives in a mud hut in a maze of mud huts not far from my house. Asante Mungu for the local kids who are happy to direct me. The leg looks good, and last Thursday I taught his mom how to do it. I\ll check on the kid this week

. The most amazing thing is he got discharged from the hospital with a prescription for antibiotics and tylenol but no other instructions on wound care, or what to buy to do it. Maybe this will help you understand why I get so frustrated in America when patients whine about only having 4 channels on the tv.

Had three Peace Corps volunteers crashing at my house this weekend, enjoying the electricity and the restaurants. Three guys about the same ages as my kids, and just about as dopey. It was great, and it made me a little less lonely.

I do miss my kids, and think about everyone often. What I don\t miss is the endless documentation. So for those of you buried under a mountain of charts and such I can only say )Pole na kazi( Won\t translate, I'm sure you get the gist.

The computers are making noises like they\re about to crash, so I close and hope to send successfully.
Nakupenda. Mama Liz

[ Top of Page ]

03.10.08
Sent: Monday, March 10, 2008 3:51 AM
Subject: The good, the bad, and the very,very ugly
To:Everyone

It's Sunday, and I've got the house to myself. All the boys have left for Dar es Salaam and I kind of miss them. They were certainly a burpy, farty crew but very homey and easy to get along with.

One evening, Dominic, the very cute French Canadian, was sitting in the living room watching a bad movie and eating hot dog buns with mustard and ketchup. That's all.You've got to love a guy like that. However the house is now clean and the video games are put away so I don't break my neck/ arm/ hip on the cord. It's a tradeoff, I guess.

I never officially announced the closing of Godfrey's Children Center. Most everyone on my email list is either a work friend, and aware, or a friend from Africa, and also aware. But now I have had time to piece together the information I have received. However it is info from about five different sources so there are areas of disagreement as well as blocks of truth.

So here's what happened.What I heard was that people with access to Center money were misusing it. Not a surprise. I had my suspicions but with my limited Kiswahili I could only guess. There was an attempt to sack the bad guy, and here is where it gets so messy I am lost.

Allegations of bribery and theft were flung from one end of the village to the other. Then the District Commissioner got involved, then the govt of Tanz. Someone went to jail for a few days. In the end, everyone was mad and the kids were taken from the Center by the police. (at gunpoint I heard.)

It was all politics, and the kids got screwed. There's more, of course, but those are the highlights. I was in Idweli again this weekend, and saw alot of the kids.They're fine. They were better off at the Center but that is out of my control.

One of the kids I saw this weekend was Rama. He was a Center kid, and always wanted to be spoken to in English. He tried so hard and did so well. He's in Form 2 now, highschool to you in America, and passing. He kept up with his English, and he's a smart kid. We had an actual conversation in English. He needs to go to University. A lot of the kids do. But that's for later. Fear not, this isn't a shameless plea for funds. Yet.

Was going to Samweli's (kid with wound, not prep guy) house on Friday to change his dressing and decided to take a cab. They're cheap and fast but there's always the language barrier. So here goes. Him: "Unakwenda wapi?" (Where are you going) Me: Oil Com (a gas station near the kid's house) Him: Wapi? Me: Oil Com. Him: Sijui (I don't know). Me: Oil Com, Oil Com (accompanied with gestures and a dashboard map drawn with my finger. Him: OOOHHH.. Oily Comb. Me: Of course, Oily Comb.

Anyway we got there, him all the while haggling for more money. So Samweli is fine, the leg looks good. I had taught his mom to do the dressing change the week earlier so was happy to see it healing so well.Then on the way out she thanks me and hands me a nicely written note which, when translated, was a request for me basically to financially adopt her entire family.

This is a hard thing for me. All day long people are asking me for money, clothes, tuition, my laptop. I know why they do it, hell, if I were them I'd ask me too. I'd be an idiot not to. But I cannot give money to everyone and I'm almost finished venting (pole na whining). I'll just say that it's hard to stay focused here when everyone needs almost everything and I am rich.

There, I've said it. I admit it. I am rich. At least in Africa I am. Actually I am a multimillionairess, but that's in Tanzania shillings so it's much less impressive than it sounds.

The guy doing the artwork on the preschool walls is fabulous. He's talented, has adequate English, and he's punctual. I can't ask for more. He's so good, in fact, that he'd rather I didn't draw on the walls at all. And I agree.(Besides, I get nauseated standing on a chair to work.) So he's on his own and I will try to start organizing the Uyole project.

I'd like to be in Idweli in a month or so, I miss village life. Mzee Msemwa has given me permission to live in his house rent free. He knows I will renovate. I can't help myself, I have the renovating gene.

First on the list is the choo. (toilet) I have no plans to fix the hole on the outside wall because I like to watch the cows as I pee.(And vice versa) However I am for sure planning to raise the entry hole and add a door. I'm pretty adaptable but it's just not easy at my height to duckwalk into the choo while simultaneously turning to position myself. OK This is too graphic. I am through. So through.

My Kiswahili lesson is in a few minutes so everyone take care. Even though I don't answer many personal emails I still love to get them. And for my nurse friends, it should be time for the team payout. I'm on LOA so I assume eligible. Can someone check on it for me. To my kids, I love you. AND EMAIL ME.
Nakupenda. Mama Liz

[ Top of Page ]

03.16.08
Sent: Sunday, March 16, 2008 6:00 AM
Subject: revisitng my delinquient past
To:Everyone

I thought I had left my old drug days behind, as in far behind. But I was wrong. There's something wrong with my glasses and I feel like I'm walking around on acid.

I'll back up. Last weekend I spent the night in Idweli at Mama Jackie and the docs house. I dropped my glasses in the bathing area and broke the frame. So I taped them, no problem. I can look like a geek. I knew I had two extras so I went home and rooted around in my box of junk. I did find them but one of the spares was similarly taped, no doubt the result of a previous bathing mishap on my last trip. So those two are at the miwani fundi (glasses repair guy) and I am left with the old LSD standbys. God help me.

This is further complicated by the state of the roads; not great on a good day but remember this is the rainy season. (see God help me above). Most of the main roads are in reasonable shape, sort of. The problem is I'm not on foot on the main roads, but on those less traveled. I'm part of the great unwashed that walk up and down mostly dirt roads every day, rain or shine.

What amazes me is the locals don't ever seem to fall, or even come close. I, however, am walking on the same slippery, muddy, uneven walkways wearing my LSD goggles and it's frankly more of an adventure than I need.

Added to this are the rocks in the road. Imagine if a road was paved in mosaic tiles of varying shapes and sizes. Now imagine that every third or fourth tile was sticking up, in the mud. I'm grateful that I haven't broken my neck. AND THEN there's the pipes and things that have been broken off for whatever reason and stick up about six inches from the mud waiting to impale me should I stumble. But I remain unscathed. Asante Mungu.

Last week my friend Sharmala picked me up for dinner and we passed a police car that fallen over in a hut sized pothole/pond in the road. No kidding it was 15 degrees from being on it's side. The part of me raised in the sixties snickered, but the new and improved me just said Pole. Inatosha.

The chekichea (preschool) is marvelous. John, the artist, is so amazing. We're finishing up the second room and it's tres mzuri. There are two other rooms, both unfinished up till now. But they're cementing the walls and getting them ready because they want us to do them as well.

The teachers and kids are very excited. At first they thought it was just some wierd mzungu thing and said ok because it wasn't costing them anything anyway. We did consult with them and their curriculum, so we knew what to focus on. But as they watched they started to give more input and they're very much on board now.

It's a different method of teaching, interactive rather than the old colonial method of the teacher droning on and the kids sitting there listening (or not).

I'm meeting with my friend Gerald Mgaya and his pastor tomorrow to show them the walls and then we'll go to Uyole to check out the chekichea there. It's church run, and apparently ready to paint.

I'm picking up Joyce and Erica this afternoon. They're from Idweli, and will leave in the am for Arusha. Erica has a fistula and will have it fixed at a Silean Lutheran Hospital. Joyce will be her caregiver. In Africa whan you go to the hospital you are required to bring someone to cook and clean for you.

I told you last week it wasn't time for a shameless plea yet. Well, yet is here, and I think I've shown amazing restraint. So anyway, this is a request for continuing education for one of the chekichea teachers. His name is Andrew, and he's in his late 20's. He's married with one child. There is a one year program that he wants to do that will make him a qualified teacher. It costs 900,000 tsh, ($900 USD) He has 200,000. If anyone wants to ante up for this man, Every Child will match funding to make up the other 700,000.

That's all, at least for this week. I have others with educational requests but I'm going to space them out. The course begins in July, so there's time. Asante in advance.

Not much else to tell. But I did come in under budget this month, which is great. The walls are cheap to do, even though I pay the artist and prep guy very well. So we can do lots of walls. I'd like to try to do one project per month, but I plan and God laughs. So we'll see.

Still waiting word on whether or not there will be a team payout this year, hope so. Everyone stay safe. Email me with any news or just interesting junk I might get a kick out of. To my kids, I love you. Keep writing.
Nakupenda wote. Mama Liz

[ Top of Page ]

03.26.08
Sent: Wednesday, March 26, 2008 1:38 AM
Subject: What I did for Easter
To:Everyone

Jambo, na pesaka njema. That's hi and Happy Easter. We had a good holiday, decided to celebrate by having an Easter egg hunt at Deborah's orphanage. An ambitious endeavor, considering we colored 180 eggs on a two burner that's only slighly hotter than than a package of birthday candles.

We also used a charcoal cooker, plenty hot but we had to put it outside because of the smoke and it was raining paka na mbwa (cats and dawgs). But we got it donewith only 12 eggs sacrificed to cracks, falls and hunger.

Had a good time. It was the kids first egg hunt and they were fast and fearless. I say fearless because there's lots of construction going on at the orphanage and we hid most of the eggs in a huge pile of bricks. They We marked some of the eggs and the kids who found them got a prize. Then we had a great meal and that was it. I particularly liked the fried bananas.They like to fry stuff here and I have an enormous appreciation for anything immersed in boiling oil. One volunteer, John, was enamored of big pieces of fried pork fat, and he was misty eyed and lustful over his plate.

Totally finished the first project and it is beautiful. Asante John. I know I keep promising pictures and I do have them, but I'm having a hard time coordinating with David who can put the pictures in the email and the email itself, which goes off and on. Will try this week. I'm writing this at home on notepad.

Have begun the Uyole project, the rooms are twice as big and brand new so requires very little prep work. Good for me, not so good for my prep guy. It's in a beautiful setting, surrounded by shambas (farms) and hills. I can look out the window while I paint and watch the cows and goats meandering about.

It's always a comfort to me to see cows and goats and pigs going about their lives. That and a cup of coffee is about all I need. I guess I'm just easy to please, a big plus here for a multitude of reasons.

So here's a brakedown of the first months expenses. The chekichea at Shukurani Center cost 500 USD, still a good price in spite of the fact that I pay well. I could get the painting and prep done cheaper but I have no desire to swindle the guys who work for me. We also supplement Dr. Kwita's monthly meds,( the govt sends him enough for about 10 days and that's 20 days short each month). This is $100 USD. Then there's four men at Shukurani Center who are going to night classes trying to get diplomas. They work security and all have families. This is $10 USD/month for 10 months so that's 40 USD/mo. And finally got the fistula lady to Arusha, which came to 270 USD for the month (bus fare and food for her and her caregiver Joyce). So that's $910 USD for Every Child expenses. My expenses were about 700 USD this month, much of which was start up stuff. That's $1610, not bad. Had no school fees to pay for Feb- March. All in all a good month. Asante Mungu.

I have at times complained about the trash lying about all over the street and everywhere else. But truly, where else can it go, there's only a few trashcans in Mbeya, and none in the villages. I was walking with Deborah the other day drinking a soda. Some stores have canned soda which is nice because you don't have to drink it on the premises. Soda bottles need to be returned for refill so I was happy to be drinking on the fly.

I finished my soda and held onto the empty can because I knew there was a takataka receptacle on the next street, and I was happy to do my part for urban beautification. So I spot the trashbin, which is small, yellow, and attached to a pole about waist high. I throw my can in only to see it fall through a hole in the bottom and land on the street with the rest of the trash. I tried. My friend calls them self-emptying and applauds the city council for saving money on garbage collectors. Me, I just bang my head against a wall.

I am well and healthy, despite repeatedy whacking my head on a fist sized rock that the mzungu store owner uses to weigh down the sign welcoming me onto his premises. I'd probably feel a lot more welcome if I wasn't always grabbing my forehead and howling in pain every time I entered.

But in reality it's my fault. The sign is painted on canvas, and is hung from the awning above the door. So he's got rocks attached with twine to both ends and the middle to keep it from flapping in the breeze. I say it's my fault because I'm about six inches taller than the average Tanzanian so get it in the eye every time I go up the steps. I should learn to duck.

The same thing happens in Mzee Msemwa's house. The first time I walked through the bedroom door I ended up in tears with a knot on my head the size of a small mango. I guess I'm just a slow learner.

Not much more to add, except I'd like to know what day it is. They just blend together here, so although I know it's the end of March, that's about all I know. Anyway, to my kids, I love you, and take care. All the kids think you're very handsome, and my granddaughter is definitely mzuri sana sana.Nakupenda. Mama Liz

P.S. Have received four envelopes full of bandaids and such. So na shukuru sana Helen, Kay, Joanne and Bobbie. I especially appreciate the smaller envelopes as I no longer have to haggle with the customs guy. Enjoy the pictures everyone, I am sending them and hope they actually get there. L

[ Top of Page ]

04.04.08
Date: April 4, 2008 12:57:19 AM PDT
Subject: bits and pieces
To:Everyone

Hi, went to Idweli on Saturday with Molly, a volunteer from America. She's young and cute and redheaded, and I could have married her off to almost anyone in the village, but I have no place to put the cows so she's safe for a while. We were hoping to see all the kids and visit the doc and his wife but it was raining paka na mbwa AGAIN Êand everyone was undercover, including the chickens ( scroll to pics). So we sat at the docs and had some of Mama Jackie's wali na nyama na mboga (rice, meat, veggies).

Remember I told you the doc has a TV. Well he always used it for videos but now they have a few channels and he was anxious to share his favorite Saturday afternoon program with us while we ate. So there we were, 5000 feet up in the Southern Highlands of Nowhere watching WWF. Yep, his favorite show is American wrestling. I guess you just can't escape. O well.

You should have seen him, though, jumping around, hollering at the TV. Doing all the Splats and Blammos and rooting for his favorite wrestler, who is, by the way, Mysterio. Just like home. So I leaned over and told him, "Unajua, sio halisi." (You know, it's not real.) The poor guy, he just looked at me in disbelief. "Kweli?" (Truly?) "Ndiyo kaka" (Yes bro, truly). This went on for a while, but eventually he recovered and spent the next half hour rooting for Mysterio. I also told him that there was a Mysterio when I was a kid but he wasn't having any of that. Next week I tell his kids about Santa.

Before we left for the village we spent the required hour waiting on the bus. Here's why. There's a place called Mwanjelwa where about a hundred buses gather to fill. So there may be 6 buses going to the same place, and you'd think they'd fill them in some kind of orderly fashion and send them on their way. Wrong, so wrong. What happens is this.The buses sit there in line and the touts ( bus pimps) try to lure you onto their particular bus with promises of good seats and a smooth ride. So in the end all the buses fill slowly and it takes about an hour. Then you have to add all the bags of maise, luggage and livestock. (So much for the comfortable seating)

So while we wait we watch out the window and it's quite a show. Because we're a captive audience the vendors come by and try to interest you in anything from knives and flashlights to bras and panties. I'm pretty flexible but somehow can't bring myself to buy my undies from some guy standing outside the bus w aving a bra in my face yelling "Very good, very nice, you buy." But I finally did find something I wanted, and don't ask me why.What I purchased was a wallet with a picture of Sadaam Hussein on the front. It was only a buck, and according to another volunteer, worth every shilling. But you have to wonder who makes these things.

Do you want to know how fascinating I am? So fascinating. But you would be too, if you were here. The other day I was at the site mixing paint. It was tedious, it took about 15 minutes of adding thinner and stirring with a stick. But through it all the kids watched me, rapt, like I was the Cirque du Soleil (sp?)

It's vacation time, and the kids haven't much to do. So that makes me and John, the artist, the best if only show in the village. Throughout the day there's hundreds of them poking their heads in the windows, watching, giggling and trying to get me to take a "picha". They try all kinds of goofy stuff to interest me, sometines it works and other times not. But the other day I was painting numbers and looked up and there was this kid contemplating my work while he munched on an entire head of cabbage. Works for me.

Asante Mungu for John, the guy who actually does all the real artwork. He's wonderful. Sometimes I'm in my corner doing letters or shapes, (my speed), and I'll look over and he's got something wonderful happening. He just stands there and paints, sometimes I do like the kids and just sit and watch.

Asante Mungu for David. He and Chris, his wife, run a secretarial school in Mbeya. David is putting the pictures on the emails for me. He's also trying (yikes) to teach me to do it.I've had mild to moderate success ( I think) and I'm sure in time his hair will grow back.

And a HUGE Asante Mungu to whoever invented text messaging. I'm sure this will come as a shock to those of you who know me best but yes, I text messge now. Dr. Kwita has a phone now and he's my Idweli

connection. So we're now able to communicate and arrange projects without me schlepping off to the village every 2 days.

Received the bandaids, postcards and stickers the other day. Asante dada to Kawila and Sr. Regina. I have 9 minutes left. My friend Carlee is coming from Canada in June. She did the artwork in the now defunct childrens center. Her style is different from John's, but just as wonderful.

Gotta go, there's a leak somewhere in the internet cafe and the floor is coverd in water. The guy in the next chair assures me I won't get electrocuted but as frayed wires are the norm here I am skeptical. Nakupenda. Mama Liz, or as I am now called, Mama Max. A woman with kids is named after her oldest son. So there you go.

[ Top of Page ]

04.10.08
Sent: Thursday, April 10, 2008 1:22 AM
Subject: T.I.A
To:Everyone

No,it's not short for transient ischemic attack, although sometimes it seems like a reasonable alternative. It means, for everyone who hasn't either seen Blood Diamond or lived here, "This is Africa".

It's a phrase you hear daily, and in a warmer, fuzzier country you might be referring to pastoral village scenes with happy children playing in the sun. But here it describes all the things that make you want to bang your head against a wall. Again, daily.

Please understand that what I say next has no real judgement attached, it's just how it is here. And remember how often I say I love it here. It's been a frustrating week, and not getting much better.

I've been wanting to go to Kiswahili camp in Iringa with my friend Chris. Most people do something like this, but we haven't yet. We found one on the internet that some friends absolutely loved. And we'd be more than pleased to plunk down good money for a month near a river soaking up all the verbs and pronouns we've so far avoided learning. If we could just get someone to answer the phone.

Chris tried calling the camp for two weeks and gave up. I picked up the torch and have been trying these past two weeks. Not even a message machine, let alone a breathing person.

So a friend gave us some numbers of people who went and again, loved it. Have text messaged, and phoned, but all I get is a very nice recorded lady who tells us (in kiswahili) that the numbers aren't working. I think. If I spoke better Kiswahili I'd know for sure. And there's no email address because it's rustic so I may just take a bus to Iringa and check it out.

There's also a school in Morogoro but aside from being way too hot it's the malaria capital of the region. Strange that in a place where people continually try to con me out of money I'd have such a rough time giving it away voluntarily.

The saga of the fistula continues as well. Joyce and Erica left for Arusha weeks ago, Erica to have the surgery and Joyce to be her caregiver. There were some complications and Erica was transferred to a hospital in Moshi. Her kidneys faltered but all is well now. She is eating and walking, but with the additional meds and things they ran low on money. Hakuna matata.

I went to Western Union and sent 60,000 tsh (about $60 USD). Joyce doesn't speak English so we're communicating via multiple text messages through the doc in Idweli. It's a phone triangle and very time consuming. But still hakuna matata. Or so I thought.

Matata,lots of matata. Joyce went to get the money at Western Union and they refused to release it because she hasn't got an identity card. Many people here don't. But if the amount is less than 100,000 tsh it's no problem. All Joyce needs to do is correctly answer a question that I provided on the form. This is spelled out under the rules and regulations of Western Union, (with an official stamp of Tanzania), on my receipt.

I would go down to Western Union myself to straighten out, but it's a three day weekend commemorating the death of one of the presidents.The doc said I can send some money on the bus and Joyce will pick it up in Moshi but I've alredy got 60,000 tsh locked in cyberspace and that's enough.

It will all work out,everything does, but all this texting and calling is giving me a headache. Either that or it's all the head banging I've been doing. Again, daily. Inatosha.

Work is great, we've got about one week left on this project and it's so beautiful. (scroll to appropriate pic). We have some options for the next project, but I'd kind of like to meander out to Idweli for a month or so to do prep work on the homework center/library. Town life is good, but I prefer to live in the counrty and come in for a few days rather than vice versa.

Had some fun today. We have a cat, Tom, who sneaks outside whenever he can slide through the legs of whoever comes to the door. We can't even open the windows because he escapes through the holes in the security screen.

But I fixed it all today, and thanks to some orange rope and my shoelaces we now have a breeze blowing through the living room. Pole sana Tom. He's been trying, but no luck.

Don't get upset when you see the picture of the wound, it's fine now, all healed. The rest of the shots don't need captions. Poor Tom, he's been trying for hours to get out the window. Currently he's plastered himself against the all and hanging on by a claw. I'm feeling much better now that I've passed on my frustration on to the family cat.

To my kids, I love you. Write to me. I think we can stop sending bandaids now. I have a boatoad and am looking around for a large group of people with wounds.

However I do have another request. I'd like to give John some actual artist paints and brushes, which are unavailable here. The poor guy has been using house paint most of his professional life. So if anyone wants to, just buy a few small tubes of artist paint and maybe a brush and put it in the usual manageable and non-bribeable envelope and send it to my PO box in Mbeya, Tanzania, East Africa.

This is not work paint. I'd just like for him to be able to sit down after work and make pictures with proper paint. And if you do send some paints please throw in a pack of black licorice for me. Asante sana.

Everyone take care, write to me. Louise, I have a monkey picture for you. Nakupenda. Mama Max

P.S. New day, just spent two hours at Western Union and I believe we are circling around an actual transaction.I'll tell you next week, as it just may take that long. P.S. Another new day, Joyce got her money, Asante Mungu, and no thanks to Western Union.
Nakupenda watu wote.

[ Top of Page ]

04.29.08
Sent: Tuesday, April 29, 2008 5:16 AM
Subject: Hot Tummy Slides
To:Everyone

Yes, the all important email title. I always try to find an interesting opening so you all don't scroll to the pictures and bypass the text. Sometimes I come up empty and then there's the motherlode.

A few weeks ago a bunch of us went to Mbeya's Muslim owned, African operated, and only Chinese restaurant. We sat down and ordered drinks, half of which were "hamna", so we got what they DID have and settled down to peruse the menu. That's when the fun started.

So here's a sampling of our culinary options; Hot Sour Shreds, Bean Treated Beef, Tummy Slides in Brown Sauce, and the ever popular Beef Slides in Pugent Sauce (as opposed to pungent sauce).

We asked the waitress what these items might look like on a plate but she had no idea. So we ordered them sight unseen, but they were "hamna" (like most of the drinks). We had some pineapple chicken and fried pork instead. It was great, but I'm still curious, and have vowed not to leave Tz until I've eaten the Squirrel Like Fish.

I must confess; I've littered. I've tried not to, in spite of the fact that the rest of the Mbeya is busily flinging takataka (trash) all over town. I have on a daily basis littered my own backpack and taken my personal garbage home for proper disposal. But the other day I got caught between local culture and my old hippie roots.

John and I were on the daladala going home after painting all day,and I was gnawing on some roasted maize. After I finished I just held my cob because there was no place to put it in my bag.

It was a long ride and the man next to me kept looking back and forth from me to my cob, back and forth, tena na tena (again and again). After about ten minutes he opened the window and said "Throw it outside".

I didn't have the Kiswahili to explain my moral dilemma and as I stated before everyone flings stuff on the ground here, so I flung my cob. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

Still rainy season, so I'm still picking my way ever so slowly down the roads (scroll to muddy road pics). The first pic is the best path, there's some definite dry areas to jump to (but this was taken on a sunny day). The next pic is my other, though less attractive option.

I hate walking along this wall, especially when it's wet and rainy, and I'm carrying my backpack and computer, but so far I've managed to maneuver safely. I only use the wall when the other path is underwater. There's lots of "Pole, dadas" along the way. Pole dada is basically sorry sis, and you hear it all the way down the road. At least I don't have to do it with twenty kilos of wood on my head. Asante Mungu.

The folks at my favorite mzungu store, (remember the one with the dangling rock weights) must feel sorry for me. Either that or they're tired of me cussing my way down the steps holding my head. They've shortened the strings and now I pass under the welcome sign freely and without pain.

However I'm still banging various parts of me on various parts of the daladala.It's not a tall bus. The other pssengers are sympathetic though, patting me on the arm and giving me lots of Pole Mamas and mrefu sanas (very tall).

Just got back from dinner with friends. We went to the Sombrero Restaurant, and the food was wonderful. We were discussing the quality of the food in Africa, and have decided that taste is directly proportional to scarcity. The ice cream at the Oily Comb is the best we've ever had only because it's the only ice cream for miles and we'd be idiots to think otherwise. And that's my take on third world cuisine.

I've always wanted to be an inventor, find something everyone wants and make a fortune. Well, recently I stumbled on my own verision of the pet rock and I'm cornering the market. Sincere apologies in advance to anyone who is easily offended, because this is without a doubt the most supremely offensive, politically incorrect, and horrendously tacky souvenir in the history of souvenirs.

Last week or so I sent you a picture of me with a Sadam Hussein wallet. I've decided that all my perverse friends and all my kid's equally perverse friends will pay top dollar for them, so am in the process of collecting as many as I can. There's also Osama Bin Laden wallets but the printing says Ben Laden. Must be his brother. Have no idea who makes them, probably some old burned out Peace Corps guy who never left.

Again, my apologies, but look at it this way, all profits go to the organization. So in essence the Iraquis and Afghanis are helping us educate orphans in Africa. I'd send a thank you card but that'd be a bit much...even for me.

The Uyole project is done, and it's definiely the most beautiful preschool in Tz. We finished on Monday in spite of the fact that John had malaria. I brought some meds to the site and he was able to finish.

Now we're on a little break. John has gone to Chunya to be with his family and I'm here missing mine. We have our next school all lined up; I'll go to Kyela next week and see what prep work is needed.

We came in at $475 USD for the preschool. Total expenses for projects and ongoing commitments was just under $1000 USD. Plus my monthly expenses and we're right on target.

Had some requests about what kind of paints to send. I guess just regular artist paint (acrylics) in tubes. I don't know much about it. Just send some colors and I'm sure it'll be fine. John has none, never has had any, so whatever he gets will be the best. Kind of like the food.

This is a few days later. Just came back from Mahonga, a village about 90 minutes from here. We had a mobile clinic and it was fun. I miss medicine. Saw lots of shistosomiasis, malaria and general aches and pains. Plus some gonorrhea in guys who swear they have only one wife to whom they are unfailingly faithful. And I'm the Pygmy Queen.

Hope everything is fine at home, I imagine it's almost time for JCAHO (sp). Pole sana na cheka checka (laugh laugh).I can't help but snicker when I see John perched atop an upturned bucket on a bench made of leftover planks while he draws. OSHA would plotz. But then, there's no OSHA here. Cheka cheka..

To my kids, I love you. Write to me. Nakupenda wote. Mama Liz/Max Re the pictures, the little girl is getting her temp taken. Her mom looks just as pained, but in a different way. Re my computer, I apologize if anyone picked up a virus but all is well now, virii free.

[ Top of Page ]

05.06.08
Sent: Tuesday, May 06, 2008 3:18 AM
Subject: Adventures in Cerebral Malaria Land
To:Everyone

Habari! I like to think of myself as an intrepid type traveler. I can laugh off most of the bizarre/scary things that happen here, mostly it just makes good email. But this last trip was just too much. And again, the trip was the adventure.

I know I spend alot of time talking about the daladala. We all have our daladala horror stories here and we love to sit around and try to top each other. We also all have our own losing control of our bowels in public stories, but I'll save that for another time.

I should have gotten a Coaster in Mwangelwa, they're bigger, more comfortable and generally safer. But I was in Soweto and didn't want to backtrack so just got on a daladala thinking I'd get off in Tukuyu and transfer to a big bus.

We got from Soweto to Uyole and sat there for about an hour so we could fill to extreme discomfort with people, maize, onions and chickens. In an effort to appease all the sullen passengers and make up for lost time the driver took off like rhinos were after him; talking and laughing with every Tom, Dick and Kwesi in the front, and looking every which way but moja kwa moja (straight ahead). Passengers started complaining, usually they just sit quietly contemplating their respective demises.

I hollered for him to stop so I could get out, it was really too nuts. He promised to slow down and did, so we got to Tukuyu and I switched buses. And on the way out I told him he was a crazy #$*^%^$(*&^@$. He just smiled, he's got about four words of English and fortunately none of them are crazy #$@^%&*()^%^.

The big bus was an improvement, I just sat back and concentrated on the drama onboard. There's always someone argueing about the bus fares, I've been known to have a go at it myself. This lady in front of me wouldn't pay the fare to Kyela because she was only going halfway. Made sense to all of us, but not to the condo (conductor).

They bickered back and forth for most of the two hour ride and eventually she just stared ahead and wouldn't speak to him, despite all his efforts to engage her. When the bus arrived at her stop the condo tried to make her pay be blocking her way out. Hakuna matata, dada just pushed her way through, to the snickers of the passengers. I love this place.

Spent four days in Ngonga, a small village about an hour bike or taxi from Kyela. It's on the border between Tz and Malawi. My friend Judith from Austria has been living there for years and has a small house and kindergarten in the middle of the village.

It's gorgeous, reminds me of pictures of Hawaii about 200 years ago. Lush with palms and bamboo and fruit and flower trees. There were cows in the yard, and chickens and baby pigs. I was in heaven.

There's also a clinic and library that just got completed (sans books and meds). So when Judith goes home on vacation for two months I get to stay there. John and Carlee (surprise, binti) will be there and we'll paint the outside as well as the inside. It's about two months work. I can't wait. I'm gonna bring some meds too, and have a whack at some of the head sores and wounds etc...

It's the rainy season, (again with the rainy season, pole, but that's life here) and it's bad in Kyela and around. Aside from a billion mosquitos, there's been major flooding in the outlying areas.

I saw a picture of a river nearby that got so high people had to cross with their hands and feet on the handrails and crabwalk to the other side. One woman had a baby strapped to her stomach while she crossed. It wasn't as bad where we were except quite a few people had their mud huts melt in the rain.

A woman named Mary got some emergency food and we bagged it and gave it out to everyone in the area whose house disappeared. We set up in the just completed clinic and played Classic Rock while we organized and distributed. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young are alive and well in Ngonga. Asante Mungu.

The rest of the time I sat around and read and listened to music with the kids. I love it that the only phone reception is in the rice fields. Best time is around 6pm, coinciding nicely with the sunset. In June I'm bringing a chair.

The night before I left it rained so hard the only way out was bike or pikipiki (motorbike). A friend of Judith said he'd ride me out for 4000 tsh, not a bad deal. So I left in the morning and walked out in water up to my knees.

The road was better, but not much.I got on the back with my two backpacks, and off we went. The dirt road was full of potholes and mud, not to mention pigs, chickens and cows (the big ones don't move) It was a hoot.

But because modesty is such a big issue here my overriding concern was keeping my skirt from flying up (Yet all around me, everywhere, are barebreasted women in varouis stages of childfeeding. I've seen women detach a child, get off the daladala and resume feeding down the road, all the while with her breast out. I love this place).

Then when we got to Kyela I had to hop off the pikipiki without showing my chupi. It took me a while, my driver telling me Pole, Pole, while I wiggled off.

We had a peaceful ride to Mbeya, except for this chicken who wouldn't keep his beak shut. But here's the kicker. I hopped off in Mbeya and went toward my last daladala to home and I heard, "Mama, twende, kaa hapa" ( lets go, sit here) It was the right bus so I hopped in and the driver smiled at me and it was the crazy (*&^%$#@#$%^!!!!

The whole daladala heard the story and we laughed all the way home. And he was STILL looking every which way but moja kwa moja.

John is in Lupa doing a preschool near his family, so he's happy. Patty from lab I got the paints. Asante sana he's gonna love them. As I have no real work until June when I go to Kyela I'm leaving tomorrow for a few days in Malawi.

I can renew my visa on the way back. A friend of mine is a retired teacher and has agreed to help me with a pamphlet explaining how to use the walls. She'll do the Kiswahili, it'll have pictures and everything.

Every chekichea will get one when we finish the walls. So I get to sit by the lake and read and work on the English portion. Life is good.

I wrote a couple of months ago about one of the chekichea teachers who wants study for a certificate. It will be 900 USD.I will match funds and he has some money as well. If anyone is interested email me. Asante.

That's been my week.The pictures are of Kyela, where I'll be for June and July. Kyela is the cerebral malaria capital of the world, apparently, so I'll take prophylaxis. The side effects of this particular type of malaria are especially nasty so I bow to the mosquito.

The old woman in the photo is the bibi who lived in the former hut in the other picture.The sad thing is she's probably my age.

To my kids, I love you. Everyone write to me.Debra told me about the new JACHO rules. Pole.
Nakupenda. Mama Max

[ Top of Page ]

05.17.08
Sent: Saturday, May 17, 2008 5:50 AM
Subject: Easier for a camel to pass theough the eye of a needle....
To:Everyone

Than for an immigration officer to enter into the kingdom of heaven. That's from the Book of Liz, it's my mantra. I was thinking of putting it on the front of a T-shirt but I've already had enough matata from these guys.

About three months go, just after I arrived, I got called into the District Commissioners office because I neglected to make a courtesy call. Didn't know I had to. I went, and explained why I came to Tz, and she said to get a work permit from Immigration. That was on a Monday.

On Tuesday a couple of well dressed, well fed young men from Immigration came to see me at my friend Chris Watson's secretarial college. They requested my presence as well as my passport the next day so I spent 6 hours there giving them my life story. Kweli (truly).

I always pray before I go to that office, if you get mad you lose. But really what difference does it make what grade school I went to (an actual question). Anyway I have applied for my work permit, am legal, and I visit my application every week or so to check on any changes.

Every time I go they ask me "Well have you been to so and so's office?" "No, nobody told me to do that. Don't you guys have a list somewhere? I'd be glad to comply,just give me a list". But there is no list, and the rules change weekly, apparently. But I've got my paperwork in so everything is ok.

Except I have to get my visa renewed every three months. I have a one year multiple entry visa from Dar es Salaam so I can cross the boarder every three months and get a new ninety day stamp without paying any renewal fees. Hence my recent trip to Malawi.

My original plan was to stay for two or three days and hang out by Lake Nyasa and read. But Malawi is joto sana sana (very,very hot), and the price for a local hotel without AC was 2500 kwacha, twice as much as Tz for a comparable room.

About thirty minutes down the road was a hotel with AC for 5500 kwacha. I won't even tell you how much that is in USD, because I'm ashamed to say I paid. I was covered in dust and sweat, and there was a huge tub with maji moto so I had about three baths. I guess it was worth the 5500 kwachas to get my feet that clean.

There's only two speeds on the ACs in Africa, at least in my experience. You have a choice between two temps, freezing and off, so I bundled up and read a book. I woke up a few hours later in a sweat, but it wasn't malaria asante Mungu. The electitiey was gone. It resumed a couple hours later, back to freezing.

By the next morning I'd decided to just cross back, get my visa and return to Mbeya where it's cooler. Everything went fine, other than being continually harassed by the moneychangers at the boarder. These guys are aggressive, and apparently none too bright. They hang out in large groups by the boarder with big wads of kwacha and try to rip you off in the exchange. When you refuse one, the next one asks, and on down the line. Hope springs, don't it?

I got through the mob and went to the Customs/ Immigration/ Bribe counter on the Tz side and this extremely well fed officer tells me it's going to cost me extra.

I explained (nicely and calmly) about my visa and we went back and forth for a while. I finally agreed to pay him, but only if he'd give me his name and officially call it a bribe (my friend tried this and it worked ). He told me "Maybe you need to talk with my boss".You bet.

Went to the boss and we politely went at it for a minute or two, during which I repeated my previous offer (nicely and calmly) and he finally said "Madame, you have won the match today." Immigration 0, unwashed masses 1.

The first guy stamped me, but with a noticeable lack of grace. I said my asante sanas and told him I'd be back in August and we could do it again. But I think I'll cross at Uganda, spread the joy and all that.

I always try to be nice, but these guys exist to take bribes and they're just too oily. In a country where most folks are on the slender side you have to wonder why these guys look so terrifically well fed.

Work is good. We had a request for walls from this local couple who rent their chekichea space and can't paint. So we decided to try it on canvas sheets.

It turned out great, but we need to find a better grade of canvas for the next time. Now we can ship the walls. Cool. I'm kind of in between jobs. John does most of the work, so I've been lining up schools to paint. It's been easy. People tell people and we get requests.

A friend is helping me write a grant, and I'm almost done. we could hire more artists. And I wouldn't have to come home. You know nakupenda wote but if I can stay I will. Inshallah.

I went to the market today to take pictures, and since I can't and won't pay everyone for pictures I need to walk around with my camera at my side and just snap. I took about 50 shots and got a few good ones so this is what you get this week.

The little duka with the small barbeque is a roast meat stand. Smells divinely meaty but ever since I got typhoid in Ghana I am reluctant.

The brown and tan and white things that look like little dirt logs are in fact little dirt logs. Pregnant ladies eat them. In exchange for the pictures I bought five. They cost 200 tsh each, about 20 cents. Unsure whether the colors represent flavor or type of mineral. I might try the chocolate one and get back to you. How bad can it be?

That's it for me, it's late. Hope everything is good with wote. Got bandaids and postcards from Linda Tagawa from high school, plus art stuff from Clydie in Staffing and Patty from Lab. Asante sana dadas.

So far everything sent has arrived. And so far I haven't had to go round and round with the Tz Revenue Authority take it home. Mungu ni mzuri. Keep the emails coming, and how come nobody told me JLo had her baby?

Am getting requests from home for the Sadaam Hussein wallets, so have acquired a mess of them. And I have to say you guys are much more perverse than I thought. To think I agonized (for a minute) about even telling you about them. Don't want to ship them individually so will bring them when I return. Wonder how long I'll spend at Customs.

I've got the word out to the guys who sell all the cheap junk to find me some George Bush wallets. They'll find some, you can find just about anything here if you look hard enough. Except maybe an honest immigration guy.
Nakupenda. Mama Liz

[ Top of Page ]

05.27.08
Sent: Tuesday, May 27, 2008 1:45 AM
Subject: Eating dirt
To:Everyone

At the African/Chinese restaurant we frequent they serve a pilipili (pepper) sauce that puts hair on the girls chests and burns it off the boys,(because the guys don't know when to stop).

Ben and John are two Peace Corps volunteers who divided the dish between them on a mutual dare and then turned red and cried. The wierd thing is they repeated the same performance two weeks later.

A bunch of us were in the kitchen a few days layer. We were laughing about this, and wondering why guys feel the need to do this, when someone picked up one of the dirt logs I told you about last week and wanted to know what it was.

I explained that pregnant women eat them and somehow or other we all dared each other to eat one. In the end, Deborah and I stepped up to the plate and took a bite. She had the brown log, I took the greyish one. So they just tasted like dirt, a little chalky, but still dirt. We only did it once though, because we know when to stop.

The next day I asked Atu, a local woman who works at our house, if she knew a pregnant lady who might want them, and she said she eats them herself. Apparently lots of ladies here do this, pregnant or not. My Kiswahili wasn't good wnough to get an exact reason, but it's chalky and it's cheaper than calcium pills. So there you go, I ate dirt. (I need a hobby.)

Going to Ngonga on Tuesday to organize the room prep. The walls are very nice, so it shouldn't take too long. We plan to start in about two weeks, and I'm looking foreward to the time away from Mbeya. I like town, but I'd rather be farther away. The cows and pigs in the Kyela yard are a plus as well.

Two years ago, just after I got to Idweli, I was at home when I heard this uproar from the center of the village. Elia told me villagers had caught a thief, and were even as we spoke beating the hair off the poor guy. After it was over we took him to the doc who stitched him up and cleaned him off. I was aghast and appalled but he just said, "He is a thief.This is what happens to a thief."

Last Friday I was walking to the Oily Comb to buy some cake fixins, and I saw two men hustling a thief down the street. Lots of little kids were running behind, shouting and throwing odds and ends at him.

Everybody stopped to watch, myself included. They had the ill gotten booty with them, so I figured he was going back to the scene of the crime to get what he had coming to him.

I guess I'm bringing this up to tell you that I was neither aghast nor appalled this time. I'm also neither proud nor ashamed of my lack of compassion. I found out the first time that the police won't respond to a burglary, or to anything else for that matter. But I am a little wierded out about not being appalled at not being appalled. If that makes any sense.

Mt friend Carlee arrives in a few weeks from Canada, and will join us in Ngongo. Another friend, Amber,is coming too. She's a PCV, and an artist, and she's bringing a few girls from the secondary school where she teaches. This is turning into a great project. There's lots to do, and lots of artists. I'm definitely outclassed so I think I'll stick to wound care.

I get to start the worm and weigh program, it's a personal favorite. If you worm the little kiddlies every three months they gain weight and do better in school and generally enjoy life more. They also look better without those distended bellies.

But the little blighters like to pocket the pills and spit them out, so I check their mouths, and give them all some candy and all is well.

Remember the five foot worm that came out of Paulina's behind when I was in Idweli? Well if we get another one I'll make sure to take a picture. One of my lifes regrets is I didn't take a picture the last time. (Willing to entertain suggestions about a hobby.)

It's been a little over three months since I arrived so I thought I'd recap what we've done. Your tax dollars at work, sort of.

Almost finished the grant proposal, will take it to Dar next month. You never know. Mungu akipenda we make some bucks and expand. Have finished the English half of the pamphlet for the walls. Victoria will do the Kiswahili part.

Victoria is the aunt of friend of mine, a retired teacher, who spent a few years in the US going to school and working for the State Dept. I'm lucky to have met her. When we finish we'll print some and give them to the preschool teachers. It's got all sorts of games and things to help teach.

I've seen pics of the school we've been trying to build in Burundi. It's progressing, looks almost done.The thing about building in Africa is it takes forever. No loans here, it's cash and carry only.

This means that wherever you go you see partially finished houses, some with trees growing inside. It can take ten years or more to finish a house, and some never get finished. We'll finish the school, though.

As well, inflation is killing us here too. The daladala hasmore than doubled in price since my last trip, from 100 tsh to 250. Food has gone up, and building supplies have gone up like crazy. Everything here takes a long time, but I'm used to that by now.

I was at my friend Jane's house last night for dinner and we were listening to music on my laptop. We don't get too many kinds of music here, so everyone likes to peruse my ITunes for new sounds. It's too much fun to introduce people to new types of music, and as my musical taste is truly schizophrenic there's lots to choose from.

I digress, what I wanted to tell you about was my pics of Ayla, my granddaughter. She's almost 10 months old now and I've got pictures on my laptop of her underwater when she was about 3 months old. This was such a shock to my friend and her family, they've never heard of such a thing. So Ayla, sweetie, my friends think you're very brave. They think your mommy and daddy are crazy, but that's beside the point.

I need to find a place to take a good shower tomorrow. We have running water most of the time, cold but flowing. It goes out sometimes and has been out now for over a week. We get water brought up from some tank nearby but it's not too clean, and we've had to limit our bucket showers in both frequency and bucket size.

We've been managing but the three of us are starting to wonder where the smell is coming from and hoping it's the other two. As I'm traveling in two days I feel the need to scrape off the top layer, out of respect for my fellow travelers and all that. Although if I travel later in the day it really won't matter much.

Re the pics. The one that looks like little metal things sticking up out of the ground are just that. They're all over the place in various shapes and sizes and the locals seem to know where they all are, but I need to keep my eyes open, and trained on the ground.

The market picture represents the universal response from babies to their first mzungu. You just haven't lived till a child looks at you and screams.Yep. Nursing staff pls note the hospital ward pic. The ladies mopping are the nurses.

Everyone take care. My kids, I love you. LOUIE EMAIL ME.I'll write from Kyela. I heard there's two internet cafes there and they mostly work. Life is good. Nakupenda. M Liz

New day. WE HAVE MAJI!!!!!!! Asante Mungu!!!!!I'm going now to, as my friend Dominic says, make a cleanness.
Nakupenda

[ Top of Page ]

06.27.08
Sent: Wednesday, June 27, 2008 2:23 AM
Subject: Let us play
To:Everyone

As R and L are interchangeable here, this is what the kids say as they bow their little heads and fold their little hands to give thanks for the ugi. Ugi is a corn porridge provided daily at Judith's chekichea, and it tastes like cream of wheat (sort of). (scroll to pics of playing kids and ugi)

I'm back in Mbeya, but returning to Kyela on Thursday. Have a ton of stuff to do before I go, but I'm excited about being there and about the project. And especially excited about sitting on the porch in the morning, drinking my coffee, and waching the cows.

It's rural sana so will try to get back every ten days or so for business and chocolate. I'll be four and a half hours from any store that sells it. I'd load up before I go, but the Ngonga kids would probably smell it on my breath and stare at me with their UNICEF eyes. I'm a sucker for those UNICEF eyes.

Fell in love with a kid last week, he showed up with his sister at Judith's. Her name is Bahati, which means luck. Forgot his name, but he's a little slow and and has trouble talking. He's got burns on his arms and a sweet smile and some of the other kids beat him cause he's slow. He'll probably get a lot more chocolate than they do. (scroll to kids on the bench)

Remember a couple of weeks ago when I left Ngonga on the back of a pikipiki? Well we arranged for another this past week, but he never came. Hamna shida, Adamson and I just took regular bikes and rode to the local Saturday market to wait for a share taxi.

It's a nice market,food and fabric and used clothes etc and we sat and had a soda and some stale cookies (the only kind available in Ngonga). We parked our butts under a beautiful shade tree and in a few minutes I was covered with huge ants who asante Mungu they were bigger than they were hungry.

The taxi arrived, there was the usual bargaining unto death, and finally we were ready to move. But the car wouldn't start. So the driver went to the trunk and came back with a new battery, removed the old one, and put in the good one. He started the car, then removed the good battery and reinserted the old one again. He pounded the connectors in with a rock and off we went.

The road was a mess, full of car sized potholes/puddles, but he just looked at me and laughed and drove right at them like it was Six Flags.

When we got to town we dropped off some passengers, and the car stopped again. Hamna shida, he got the good battery and did the whole thing again. After he pounded the connectors onto the terminals he threw the rock, (the same rock), under the hood just below the windshield.

Obviously this is his routine, he probably does this twenty times a day. What's so great is that there's no angst or frustration with this, it's just how it is. I love this place.

Anyone want to work in my friend's clinic? One of my housemates (until Thursday) is named Deborah McCracken. She's a twenty six year old Canadian who came to Tz four years ago and never left. Her parents are wealthy and supportive and she was able to take over a bad orphanage and now it's wonderful.

She works so hard and has done amazing things. They've just finished the clinic and it's too beautiful. The four boys from Idweli are on the construction crew and still doing fine. There's two Canadian docs here for a few weeks, and wote karibu.

I might work there for a while after Kyela, and someday I want my own clinic/preschool, but you all know that. It's a huge commitment, and I'm just not ready. Remember the pictures of the Kyela project? That's what I want. I can commit emotionally, but don't want to stay in one place yet. Someday when I'm too old to travel.....

My friends Chris and David have been having electricity problems, a truck knocked out their wiring and they were without elec for a few days. Chris spent most of those few days in the Tanesco office trying to get it fixed, culminating today in actual tears.

They felt sorry for her so finally sent the repair guys out. The Tanesco guys fixed it, and on the way out of the school, they drove right through the wires again.

Hope you like the pictures, I got most of them on the bus ride to Kyela, very surreptitiously. The little glass and wood case is full of fried or roasted bananas (very good). The round, greasy things are typhoid balls.

I'm sure there's another name, but it's fried meat in a glass case in the sun and no doubt deadly as well as tasty. I've heard they're good, and have seen people eat them, but one typhoid email (Ghana) is all I get so I'll pass.

The picture of the building is a hair salon, I think that's apparent. What is not so obvious is that the woman to the right is caning her kid. Don't know what he did, but it must have been bad. The wheat is actually rice. It's harvest time in Ngonga, and everyone is eating well and getting fat.

The fields are gorgeous,and I look foreward to phone time every evening. Notice the shoes on the girl with the striped socks. They must belong to her brother, her much older brother. The socks are a little strange, but not uncommon. Mostly it's just good to have them.

The three bibis (grandmas) are, I think, married to the same man, and he's dying. The bibi on the left is the woman whose house melted in the floods last month. Judith was able to finance the reconstruction of her house, as well as some others. Costs about twenty USD for labor. The bamboo and mud are free and everywhere, and Bibi is very happy now.

They're not smiling because they're all missing teeth. The chicken isn't.

The water is still on and off, mostly off. But today it mostly on and Molly is so clean and smells so nice that I am inspired to do my own cleanness. We have a nice house in Uzunguni, which I believe in Kiswahili means Mzungu Heaven.

We're on municipal water but it's better to have tanks, like most of the non mzungu, who get to bathe regularly. Besides, it's June. Someone told me that today so I assume June is a bad month, waterwise.

So many of you send me funny stuff to read and pretty pictures to look at over the internet, but it's slow here, and downloading is an absolute migraine. I generally don't get to read them, but I keep opening them in case someone needs to tell me something. So can you keep them till I return? Either that or crop the pictures so the estimated download time is under two minutes as opposed to the twenty minutes it usually takes. Asante sana.

Molly will have my POBox key while I'm gone so feel free to keep sending stuff, especially things I can't get here like licorice, cookies that aren't stale, and licorice.

Mol says her emails are even longer than mine,so count your blessings.
Nakupenda wote. ML

[ Top of Page ]

06.23.08
Sent: Monday, June 23, 2008 2:05 AM
Subject: from the jungle
To:Everyone

Jambo, We've been in Ngonga a week now,and it's very good. We have five guys doing the prep work and John has started two murals. I'm trying to sleep under a mosquito net but it's hard. I get tangled up in it at night when I get up to pee and then one always gets trapped inside the net with me and buzzes around my head all night.

We've got solar electric. It's a comfortable house with a porch and on Monday I'm buying chairs for my morning coffee and afternoon tea. Life is too good.

I've asked everyone to speak Kiswahili to me,as I'd like to advance beyond the level of a six year old, and for the most part they've been cooperative. I say for the most part because most everyone here speaks Kinakyusa.

A hefty percentage of Ngongoans don't even speak the national language, and this makes it hard for the kids when they get to primary school. I'm really in the back of beyond now.

So I've learned to greet in Kinakyusa, and this seems to be enough for the locals, who think it's a hoot. Most of them, I think, just talk to me to get a laugh before they head out to the shamba every morning.

I've talked before about the little kids being afraid of wazungu,but what I haven't mentioned was the desensitization process. Sometimes while I'm out and about I get called over by one of the locals. They've usually got a little kid trapped in their arms, and the kid usually looks about ready to wet himself. So they drag the kid over and tell him, "Salamia mzungu." Greet the white person.

I've never gotten a Salama, mostly they scream. And everyone just howls. The last time this happened I gave the kid a lollypop, which he took, but he still gave me the stink eye.

The only way into Kyela town from Ngonga is either by pikipiki (4000 tsh) or regular bike (1000 tsh), so I've been taking the bike. It's twelve km each way,and a beautiful ride. There's trees and rice fields and ponds and huts.

The road isn't uphill, but it's full of rocks and farm animals. It's twisty and about a foot wide in places, and everyone hollers out a greeting and the chekichea kids chase me. Haven't fallen off yet, but I'm hoping to be near the big pond when it does happen.I love this place.

Was riding home the other day and decided to take a pumzika (rest) just before crossing the wood bridge. I parked in front of what I thought was a clinic, as the walls were festooned with HIV posters and it was a clean and modern building.

I got karibued by the guys lounging out front, who I assumed were the medical staff. I figured I'd go and greet them and check out the facility and maybe offer to do some volunteer work, whatever.

I asked if it was a clinic and the main lounger said, no, it's Immigration, and repeated the karibu. So I said Bado (not yet) and pedaled off. Haven't I got enough problems with these guys without cruising up voluntarily with a big dumb grin on my face? If they want me, they can find me. Just turn left at the screaming watoto.

My day is mellow. Not doing much artwork, The prep guys are doing their thing, and as Carlee and Amber will arrive soon I can leave the art to the artists.

So I take lots of pictures, read, go to town, and hang out with the kids who don't have a wazungu phobia. It's really just the very little kids who scream, but there's lots of them.

This place is so beautiful. It's truly stunning, and photos are so inadequate. I have no appreciation for poetry, but if I did I'd write a big poem about this place. The climate, trees and flowers are so much like Hawaii when I was a kid. Sometimes you can go home again.

I was returning my bike the other day and took a stroll down the road afterward. Mama Atu, the uji lady at the chekichea, called me over to her house. I met her family, greeted them, and they laughed at my grammar and gave me a huge papaya.

I walked home with my papaya and looked around and it was so lovely. Sometimes I can't believe my luck, to be in this pretty place where folks give me fruit and all I have to do is hang out while people paint.

I'm in Mbeya for a few days. Ran out of money and there's no Stanbic Bank in Kyeka, (no real surprise). But there's also no ATM so I'm here visiting and stocking up on batteries, chocolate...Will return on Monday.

Had the best trip to Mbeya. I got on the bus in Kyela and it took off with only about ten passengers. Amazing.Usually we are packed to bursting. So we cruised along at a moderate speed, in total comfort. The sky was blue, the sun was shining,I was listening to Hawaiian music.

Then we arrived in Kiwira, which is where all the produce in the area winds up. We stopped and loaded up on big bags of rice (it's harvest time), bananas,kids and a group of blind church singers.

Everyone was laughing and talking. I took pics of the kids sitting next to me, and then almost everyone else. The kids love to look at any pics, but especially pics of themselves. Folks don't have lots of photos and mirrors lying around here, and everyone just points and giggles.

There's usually about three guys who work the bigger buses, a driver, a condo (conductor) and a guy who helps the condo load stuff. They loaded the top of the bus with everything you could imagine and some you couldn't and we took off.

I was sitting in the back watching all the activity and noticed the loader was still on the roof when we resumed our safari (a journey, does not necessitate animal viewing and/or shooting).

I got busy with the kids next to me and forgot all about him till a while later when I saw the loader looking through the window at me from the roof of the bus. He motioned to me to open the window and then he climbed over the side of the bus and through my window. All this at cruising speed.

I tell you this was the craziest ride. These guys were crawling all over the bus the entire ride. When we stopped to let people off or on they waited till the bus was moving, then ran like crazy and jumped on. This happens all the time anyway, but that day it seemed to be some kind of contest between the bus guys and all the locals en route.

These guys are in top form, it should be an Olympic event. During the ride the condo and the loader ran to the back of the bus and crawled up onto the roof to have a smoke. Again, at cruising speed.

I held my camera out the side and hollered Tabasamu (smile) and just snapped. Got a good picture too. Anyway at the end of the ride everyone said their kwaheris and that was it.

When I got back to Deb's house the first night there was a birthday party at the house and among the guests were a group of drunk expat south Africans.

What a bunch of drunk dopes. These guys start early and just don't stop. That being said, they brought about fifteen pounds of sausage, chicken, and lambchops to grill, thus partially redeeming themselves.

I've hardly eaten meat since I've gotten here, but this was quality stuff, and this weekend is all about food.

I'm eating healthy in Ngonga, not much junk around. The biscuits are stale but they've got decent mandazi. This is a lump of fried dough, slightly sweet, good for breakfast with tea. There's also a chapati lady in the village, she's been gone for a week but she's back now. There's eggs and rice and fruits and veggies.

When Judith was here we ate more cooked stuff, but she's gone now. I cooked once or twice, and that's enough. Bahati makes rice for me and John, and she makes it with coconut oil. Very nice. Sometimes a guy comes by with fresh fish from the lake. I feel good, but it's still nice to come to town and go to the Oily Comb for junk. Molly and I had hotdogs today.

Can you guys send me some movies? We've got mostly action stuff here at the Mbeya house, and the dukas (stores) sell mostly garbage that other countries don't want.

Most of our movies freeze, usually in the last half hour. Old black and whites would be nice, just stuff you think I'd like. I like foreign stuff too, just anything besides Bruce Willis. Calandar Girls is a good movie. Old westerns...To Kill a Mockingbird. The Good Earth. Can't watch them in Ngonga, we have lights but no plugs

You can figure out most of the pics. The two guys on the roof of the bus came out good. The guy holding the piece of wood is the condo, the wood is a locally made brake. Those are yams in the buckets, people put them out on the side of the road and you can buy them from the daladala. About a dollar, bucket not included. The street scene is downtown Kyela. It's a small town, about six streets wide and deep. The sign is in Mbeya, at the Oily Com. I've started collecting pictures of signs, and Africa is the motherlode of strange signage.

Janet I got the tea, Diane got your stuff too. Asante. Inatosha sasa. Wote andika, na nakupenda.ML

[ Top of Page ]

07.09.08
Sent: Wednesday, July 09, 2008 4:31 AM
Subject: Traveling with Barbie
To:Everyone

Jambo, habari? All is well here. Just loving Ngongo. We've finished the first room and it's beautiful. My friend Amber spent a couple of days, and she drew numbers and letters all over the walls. Had a little trouble with the big Q, ( scroll down).

There's always something. I, for one, tend to skip or repeat numbers, John misspells English. Carlee's here now, and tomorrow we'll go to the Uyole project we finished a while back and help with the first day. We also have to fix the extra M on the alphabet section. Somehow we missed that. Pole.

It's good to have Carlee here. We worked together in Idweli and did the walls there. She's Canadian, 23, has curly blond hair and looks a little like a porn star.

Everywhere we go guys come up to me and ask if they can speak to my daughter. They whistle and do the psst, psst thing, and holler at her from cars. I told her that she can pick the fabric but she needs to start wearing a burkah. Mwachi mtoto wangu peke yako means Leave my child alone, just in case you need to know.

Our trip from Ngonga to Kyela was very fine. We started off on our bikes with full backpacks and got a few minutes from home and there in the road was a huge truck loading 100 kilo rice sacks.

Fruit and produce trucks are my favorite mode of travel, so we asked and bargained them down from 5000 tsh each to 1000. They wanted us to sit in the cab, but we opted for the top of the truck.

The view was amazing. It's the same road we travel amost daily, but on the bikes we're so busy staying on the road that we miss some of the landscape. And from 10 feet up it's even better.

The overhanging branches were a mild to moderate hazard, and sometimes when I wasn't paying attention one of the loaders would push my head down for me so I didn't lose an eye.

We picked up an elderly local couple, who paid 200 tsh. Remember we paid $1000. But it was worth the money, actually it would have been worth more. I could travel everywhere on the top of a rice truck.

When we got to Kyela we thought a Safari would be good. Safari is a Tz brewed beer and really good. Unfortunately we forgot that we hadn't eaten, and that it was hot, and that Safari is a big beer with a hefty alcohol percentage.

Soon after we were roaming the streets of downtown Kyela with a pretty good buzz, looking for a bus to Mbeya. The bus found us, the guy said "Get in" and we did. God protects babies and drunks.

I need to tell you about the chekechea shelves. First let me say God bless donors, and having said that let me say sometimes they just don't get it. When Friends of Tz built the schoolrooms a donor was adamant that every classroom have a nice bookcase. Very nice, but they neglected to donate books.

So when we started the prep there were these beautiful, and I should add very large and very empty bookshelves exactly where we had planned the murals.

After some discussion it was decided that the donors as well as the artists would be satisfied if we dismantled them, rebuilt them, and put them somewhere innocuous. In the meantime the guys are sitting on them while they paint the rafters.

So they're finally being used but now they're covered with paint so we need to fix that before reassemble them.

Foodwise, we're living large. The chapati lady is back, and she delivers every morning on her bike. Mama Atu keeps the papaya coming, as well as a lady whose kid I treated for sores. We bike to the local outdoor produce and fish market everyday, so with all the fruits and veggies and biking my waistline has reappeared and I have the colon of a two year old. Life is good and that's all I have to say about my bowels (so far).

My feet, however, are another story. This place is rough on feet. So every Sunday I soak them in Omo (laundry detergent) for about thirty minutes and attack the cloven part with my Leatherman (knife).

The results are so so,sometimes I cut myself, but they stay pretty clean aside from the paint that apparently will never come off.I can't bathe with my glasses on, and I can't see too well without them. Damned if I do, and all that.

I just poled all the people here at the house tonight and their friends all get the same blow by blow as you guys, re bowels and gnarly feet. Pole.

Mbeya has pizza delivery! It just started a couple weeks ago, it takes forever and the pizza is mediocre, but it's the only one in town and we're happy it's here. It's the first time I've ever salted a pizza.

Haven't set up any clinic yet, all my stuff is still in my room, but folks stop by everyday for this and that. I don't look very nurselike in my painting clothes carrying my brush, but nobody seems to care. I work cheap and my office hours are whenever I'm around. I love this place.

Some things I can do, sometimes I refer.A man came last week with his little daughter, who had malaria. He'd been to the clinic a few villages away, but she was still lethargic, and had stopped peeing, so I sent them to Kyela Hospital for a few liters of fluid and meds.

She's home now, I saw them on the road the other day and she looks good. So a few days later the father came back with a prescription for glasses. I treat kids for free but I can't start buyng glasses so he's working with the prep guys for four days till he makes enough for the miwani. I like the barter system. Keeps me in fruit and cheap labor.

Debra I got the shirts, asante, they're mzuri sana. I won't go into too much detail re the retrieval, but it did involve two trips to the Post Office and one trip to the Tanzania Revenue Authority. That's pretty smooth for Mbeya. I've been here long enough to just go with it, mostly we just laugh about it.

There's been some problems with paypal on the website, so anyone wanting to send money should just let me know and I'll send my B of A acct number and you can do it direct.

Re the pics, that's a coffin on the back of one bike, and a pig on the back of the other.I think the pig was going to the same place as the coffin.

I like the one of the sawpit. It's too hard to move the trees, so the guys just dig a hole and do the work on site.The cubicles are Kyela's internet cafe, it works pretty well,and there's a fan.

The little girl in the Snow White outfit came by to watch us work. People donate some strange stuff.Whatwe really need here are zippers, there's not a one here that works,mine included.

Hope all is well at work, and you're having fun. I know I am. This is the best job ever.
Nakupenda. L

[ Top of Page ]

07.27.08
Sent: Sunday, July 27, 2008 3:57 AM
Subject: Ripped off yet again
To:Everyone

Habari. Haven't written in a while, the days just seem to run together here in this jungly place. The project is going fine, we've got two rooms completed, two more to go and the outside walls as well.

Everyday people come by and peek in the windows to look at the pictures (scroll to pics). It's a huge project, and we're spending a load of hela on paint but I live on pennies here so it all evens out.

John just finished the second mural, this guy is amazing (scroll tena). The really extraordinary thing about him is that he only took a couple of art classes in secondary school, like the rest of us. Imagine what he could do with actual training.

So I've been ripped off twice now. Three weeks ago a mwezi stole my phone,in Mwangelwa. Bus stops are a thieve's paradise and it was in my shirt pocket so I guess I had it coming and won't complain.

I can, however, whine about my replacement instrument. I would normally call it a phone but then there would be an assumption of actual usage.

What a piece of takataka. It's a cheap promotional model that gets limited reception in Mbeya so you can imagine what happens in far away Ngonga.

Today a different mwezi got my wallet in Kiwira while I was buying pineapples through the bus window. Never saw it coming. Or the mwezi for that matter. But I assume it happened because I don't have a wallet anymore.

And giving credit where it is due, I will say I admire his technique. This guy is a true fundi (craftsman or expert in his chosen field, such as it is).

He only got about 30,000 tsh and my POBox key, all replaceable. He didn't get my camera, which would have truly saddened me. My memory chip is full and I love my pictures.

I problem, I think, is twofold. First, I've gotten so comfortable here that I forget to be paranoid. And second, I guess I just don't care that much anyway. I try to be careful, but these guys are really good.

They need to be, as an apprehended thief is generally beaten to death. So if it happens, it happens, kind of like malaria. I don't have that much of value here, cept the camera. But it's the second time I've gotten replacement keys for my POBox so they're gonna think I'm an idiot. O well, we are what we are.

We're finishing up the worm and weigh at the chekechea, except for a few kids who've been sick. So all the kids have had their deworming meds and we'll reworm and track their weights every three months.

I have a snicker or two when I enter them in the worming record. The names. The names. They must get them from a baby book written in 1910. We have two Hildas, two Gladyses, one of which is spelled Gradice (R and L are in a sort of grey zone here).

But then there's Ziggy Willie, no doubt the son of the village rasta. We have a Checknories, which I assume is a misspell of Chuck Norris. And we have an Adolf. It's amazing to be in a place that doesn't know Hitler. Believe me, I asked. Nobody knows. And who names a kid Nerbert?

One of the things I love is taking pictures of everyone. Music and pictures are my icebreakers. And unlike myself and most of my friends, nobody here ever hates their pictures. They just look, and laugh, and point at my LCD screen and leave smudges, but there you go.

And they love to jump on the scale. We got a scale for the worm and weigh and everyone wanted to try it. Even the women hopped on, and right in front of everyone!!! But then most people are thin in Ngonga.

Weight is certainly an issue here, but from a different direction. Godfrey, a Zambian man who works here, is about 6 foot 3 and weighed in at 68 kilos. I got on as well, but in the privacy of my home, in the morning when we all weigh less,naked, and didn't tell anyone.

The good news is I've lost a bunch of weight, and without getting malaria. I've had my stretch pants taken in twice. But Hilda the teacher says I'm still fat. I told her that in America I'm not considered too fat and there's lots of people bigger than me. She looked at me and said "Mama Liz, even fatter than you?" It's not a PC world here, that's for damn sure.

I was in Mbeya three weeks ago,first, to get my phone stolen, and then for the first day of school at the Uyole project, which was more fun than the phone.

When first world kids start school they generally have a pretty good grasp of the ABCs, numbers, all that Sesame Street stuff.

Not these kids. They live in mud huts, sleep on the floor, and have no electricity. And while they can herd cows,cut grass with a machete, and other things western preschoolers can't, they have no clue when it comes to anything academic.

It's not a warm fuzzy place, village parents typically don't read to their kids in the evenings. Carlee and I were looking to buy little kids story books and found three.

Anyway it was a hoot. The kids were cute and sweet and wore their best clothes to school, which most will wear every day until they fall apart. One girl had a brand new dress for the occasion, very fancy.(scroll to kid in prom dress)

Anyway, the teacher is great, about my age, very energetic and interactive. We tried to teach the kids a relay race and it was like trying to teach Martians. They liked the running part but everything else was just kind of confusing. They'll get it.

Someone donated some educational games and before we showed the kids, we had to teach the teacher. We are relatively toyless here, educational or otherwise.

Some mzungu volunteer brought in a sickness, and I was coughing and hacking for about two weeks. Poor Meg, she had diarrhea, which is a drag when you have to travel, which she didn't, but I did.

On my last trip to Tz a man was ejected from the daladala for excessive coughing, so I was a little concerned I'd be stuck somewhere between Mbeya and Kyela, hacking up a lung. It was ok, though, nobody cared. As it happened, my pulmonary difficulties were ignored because there was a woman sitting near me who spent the last half hour of the trip vomiting into her purse. She didn't get thrown out either. I'm fine now, thanks for asking, and I assume she is as well.

The pictures, the old woman is bibi. She's my friends mom, and she's about eighty, or thereabouts, according to her family. She's about four foot nothing and runs the house while Gerald and Margaret work.

She makes baskets in her spare time, and is making me one. She never went to school, can't read or write, but managed to get her kids through school.

Gerald even went to university. She did this by making and selling pombe (local beer). It's a solid cottage industry here for alot of people, especially the bibis. In fact, there's a bibi living behind the chekechea who has a still going from morning till night.

Ithink that Godfreys Children Center, (where I worked in '05),would still be thriving, and making a profit, if we had opened a still. Orphans selling homemade hooch. Politically incorrect, morally suspect, but profitable.

The guys in the bamboo hut are having a small pombe party. It wasn't easy getting the shot, mostly they want money in exchange for pictures. But I generally give a copy of the picture instead, and now they all have a picture to remember a night they otherwise wouldn't be able to recall, from the looks of them.

The woven bamboo is a table being made by Adamson, for his wife, to dry dishes in the sun. The river scene is a mom bathing her mtoto. When you have to fetch water for everything this is better. Besides, sometimes you see monkeys.

That's my friend Feli, the slow kid. According to Adamson, he's not slow, and just making believe so he can con me out of food. Obviously, it's been working.

The deformed hand belongs to Adolph. He got burned while his mom was cooking rice. According to his Dad, they took him to the hospital, but the medicine made him cry, so they left. And this is what happened. We're going to try to get it fixed.

Have fun at work everyone, and I'm with you in spirit. Actually, no I'm not. You're all on your own over there.All you RNs, don't forget to initial everything, and dates, dont forget the dates.And charting, remember to do all your charting. Pole dadas.
Nakupenda. L

[ Top of Page ]

08.11.08
Sent: Monday, August 11, 2008 10:04 AM
Subject: Salmon cookies
To:Everyone

Life in Africa is full of firsts, my first dose of malaria, my first long distance ride on a banana truck,and now lunch with a killer. A sweet, funny killer, but a killer none the less.

Adamson is our askari (guard), and handyman at the Ngonga site. He's twenty seven, married, and just a happy, energetic guy who does whatever you ask him to do. And then some.

He came to Mbeya from Ngonga last week to pick up some paint to prep the walls for the fourth classroom, and I invited him to lunch. He was saying pole sana for my recent wallet theft, and we bagan a discussion re punishment for thievery here in Tz.

Then with his mouth full of chicken and chips he told me the following. Three years ago, in Ngonga, a thief was caught in a villager's house; and as this was a chronic problem, our askari and his buddies grabbed sticks and rocks (Ada had a hammer), and beat him to death. Like I've said many times, it's not a warm, fuzzy country.

He did say that there are criteria,a young child will be lectured, a teenager may be beaten, but the gloves are off for an adult. Then he offered his services should I need them.

I said asante, but declined, and mentally vowed to keep my mouth shut if ever I catch someone in my house/ purse/ wallet. This is not something I want on my head, I have enough explaining to do as it is.

And then he said that the dead man's mother, who lives nearby and fetches maji from our well,has not spoken to him to this day. Imagine that.

But the crazy thing is how easily I've come to terms with this. When Ada told me, he wasn't boasting or justifying, he was just telling me how it is. The police are corrupt, they won't even come to a crime scene without a bribe.

There's no justice here for poor people, so this is how they deal with it. Everyone knows it, and from an early age. Besides, he's my friend. And that's all I've got to say about that.

John and I have been in Mbeya this past week for nane nane. This is a yearly agricultural celebration/ exhibition, and it's a huge deal throughout the entire country. Nane means eight, and the festival lasts one week, ending on August eight, hence the nane nane.

Most people come to sell their wares and make business contacts, and as we're non profit, we came to see if we could drum up interest and business. And we have, so it's been good for us.We already have more work than we can handle, but we've met some people in high places who like the concept. What we want is for people to take he idea home and do their own walls, it's not rocket science.

The local culinary school has a booth, and the food is good, so I have somewhere to eat. I do love being served food. As well, lots of local ladies and kids walk around selling eggs, fruit, peanuts and such.

Sunday was John's day off, (he goes to church 2-3 times a day on Sunday), and I was by myself, speaking bad Swahili all day long and getting parched and hungry.

So I was happy to see a cute little kid walk by with a green bucket full of what looked like sugar cookies. Yowza. And they were only mia moja each (about ten cents). I got two.

They weren't too sweet, no big surprise. Pastry isn't as sweet here as it is back home. Fine. However, if you're going to use the same oil for cookie dough as you use for frying fish, then please fry the fish last.

Two months ago I ate dirt, this month, salmon cookies.What's next? Maybe I'll finally have the squirrel like fish at the local chinese place. Perhaps the deep fried cubes. Cubes of what? I have no idea. That's how it appears on the menu, but I do love deep fried anything and I'm definitely interested.

Sometimes I have trouble sleeping, and when I wake up in the middle of the night I can't get back to sleep. Like in the US, I'm just a bad sleeper. So I went to Bojhani Pharmacy for some Benadryl.

This is the pharmacy that supplies ALL the hospitals in the area, but they don't stock Benadryl. So I explained my problem and asked her to give me a reasonable alternative. Rohypnol."So I can't get Benadryl, but I can get the date rape drug? Well what the heck, I'll take twenty." They work better than Benadryl. Only in Africa.

Only in Africa, part 2. I was on the daladala the other day, happily lounging on the front seat, minding my own business. About eight church ladies signaled to get in, but the daladala was very full already and one woman had a baby strapped to her back.

There was some discussion between the women and the condo (I was uninvolved) and then the condo unstrapped the mtoto, passed him through the window, and plunked him in my lap. He was a cute little thing and I was happy to be holding him. He looked a little alarmed at first, but mellowed out, and I spent the rest of the ride smelling his baby head and thinking of my granddaughter.

It's good to be in a place where a woman will give her child to an absolute stranger then go sit in the last seat on the bus and relax for a bit.

Went to Immigration today. I've done everything I've been told to do, and in a timely manner I might add. But I've been given faulty information by one or two people (no big surprise).

So today I met with the heads of Immigration from Mbeya, Tukuyu, and Kyela, two investigators, and the regional somebody who is apparently the Immigration Pope.

They were very nice, and I'm ok, but I can't work until I have my registration papers for Tanz. Can't even pick up a paintbrush. But John can,and he does most of the work anyway.

So tomorrow I make a border run to Malawi for another ninety day stamp and then back to Mbeya to fill out registration papers. It's not a problem, it will be fine. I just wish I had been given the correct information in the first place.

And I was nice, through it all (big surprise). They're good guys (maybe), they want me to stay and do walls (they say), but I need to register Every Child in Tz. I was whining about it to Azar, my friend in Mbeya who runs the mzungu store, and he said it's even worse trying to get into America. O well, it'll work out. But I must really like this place to put up with this much crap.

Re the pics. I've been asked to write captions on them but I don't know how, so for now I'll just try to explain them better. David will show me how to do that when he comes back from Oz.

The first is John at nanenane. Looks like he knows what he's doing, but no. This was his first time using a computer. It's too funny that I'm teaching someone the ins and outs of cyberspace.

That innocuous looking young man on my porch is Adamson. The next two will show you why I love Africa. I actually had the daladala drop me so I could run back and watch.

I've seen lots of things on these carts, produce, bricks, whatever. But this was a first. There's seventy two mattresses on this cart. Traffic was stopped all along the street. Cars could have gotten around, but everyone wanted to watch. I loved it, all I could do was laugh and take pictures. It actually tipped over backwards twice, but the guys held it together. I love this place.

The man at the foot operated sewing machine is a fundi wa kushona, a tailor. Buying off the rack is a western thing, most people here can't afford that, so there's men and women all over Africa, in villages and towns, making and repairing clothes. In fact,repair shops are the norm, shoes, phones, electrical stuff. Over here it's not cheaper to buy a new one.

It's two days later. Just got back from Malawi, got my ninety day extension. Hamna shida, the boss at the border recognized me from Mbeya.

Had a good time, stayed at a little place on Lake Malawi. Enjoy the pictures. Nothing to explain here except the man with the lanterns on the back of his boat. They go out at night and set nets and again in the early am before light to bang on a wooden drum, which scares the fish into the nets. At least that's what it seems like. They speak Chichewa, I speak bad Swahili.

Nanenane is finished now, and get this... Every Child got second place in the early childhood education division (scroll to certificate in Swahili). Good for us.

Mostly thanks to John. Since I've been banned from working or even talking about the project he did all the nanenane while I played and went to Malawi. I go back to Immigration on Monday and hopefully get all the paperwork done.

This was a long one, pole sana for anyone still reading. Take care.
Nakupenda.

[ Top of Page ]

09.01.08
Sent: Monday, September 01, 2008 12:34 AM
Subject: Time on my hands
To:Everyone

Jambo. I'm fine (mzima tu). Just came into mbeya for the weekend, to do email and paperwork. Have been in Ngonga since the last time I emailed. Not sure exactly when that was, the other day someone asked what day it was and all I could say was August. Carlee said she heard it was Friday. Life in the jungle.

Zote ni nzuri, still forbidden to work until Every Child is registered in Tz. I've mentioned before that I did the paperwork some months ago,and as a matter of fact, I've mentioned that to Immigration. Strangely, they have no idea where it is, so I'm doing it again.

But John is working, as well as Carlee and Val. I've got three artists for a while, so we're zipping through the rooms, and they're fabulous. The pamphlet is finished, in Kiswahili and English, so the teachers can have a guide.

Now that I'm banned from all work, volunteer or otherwise, I've got some free time. Lots and lots of free time. I've been biking into Kyela every day, that's about twenty km,and I haven't felt this good in a long time.

But matako ya na umwa. My butt hurts. It's these cheap bicycle seats combined with the bumpy roads. Ivo, the guy I rent my bike from, has a replacement seat, and I'm getting it put on when I return to Ngonga. Asante Mungu.

When I first got to the village, I rode slowly and carefully, because the road is crazy. Lately, though, I've been taking the curves and dips like the rest of these yahoos and making pretty good time.

It's too fun, the wind in my hair and all that. The bugs in my teeth are an annoyance, and I really hate it when they fly up my nose.

I had a basket put on the front and I put my discman and the portable speakers inside. I prefer Classic Rock, and I ride at the speed of the music, singing and swerving and spitting bugs. This is the best job ever.

There's so little to report I'll just tell you about the pics. With all this time on my hands I've been able to indulge my obsession with chickens. I can think of no other way to describe it.They fascinate me, every day.

I'm especially interested in this one redhead who lives in our yard. It's not easy to get a picture of something that runs around pecking at the ground, so I've started throwing rice to lure it closer and distract him while I snap.

What I didn't know was that Carlee is afraid of chickens and isn't too thrilled that they're all hanging around the house now. How was I to know? I love his hair. If he had hornrimmed glasses he'd look just like Buddy Holly.

The little metal box with the meat sticks inside belongs to a guy who walks around Kyela all day, attending to our beef and pork needs. They're delicious. I like the pork best. I thought I'd never eat street meat again after my unfortunate bout with typhoid in Ghana. But it smelled too divoon and I caved. So far, so good, not even a cramp.

Godfrey and I were coming from town one evening and rode in on the tail end of a traditional dance festival.Everyone for miles around was there. The dancing was almost done, but the drinking, eating and general carousing was in full swing.

We decided to stop for a little pumzika (rest), a soda, and some meat sticks. Pork. There weren't too many flies, and the guys cooking looked clean, very drunk, but clean. Ten for a buck, can't beat it with a stick. Pole na pun.

Some retired army officer had a mountain of beer, which he enclosed inside a corral made of bamboo. We sat down and started eating and watching the fights.

There's loads of fights at these things, drunk guys being drunk guys everywhere, and anyway the dancing was done. A couple of guys almost fell into a vat of boiling bananas, but managed to lurch the other way.

There were about three good sized altercations going on in our area alone, and folks were following them around cheering on their favorites. We were fine though, the army guy had a big stick that he used to chase away the combatants and their friends when they tried to cut through our little beer booth.

So we just sat there taking pictures of all the drunks and chewing our grilled pork fat. What a night. The guy in the picture was so drunk he kept taking off his shirt and putting it back on, just couldn't decide, or remember. All the pictures of the fights were blurry, sorry.

The man doing what was done by a mule in Biblical times is making palm oil.It's terrible for you, turns your arteries into cement, but it's free.

All you need to do is climb the tree, cut down the fruit, then spend the next couple of days grinding, boiling, and straining. Seems like a lot of work for something that's bound to kill you, but then again, it's free.

That's Carlee dealing with the Ngonga version of a five o'clock traffic jam, minus the road rage. It's hard to get mad at a cow, so we just wait for an opening and plow through.

The other day I was riding to town and passed through a herd. They're everywhere anyway, just hanging around getting in everyone's yard.Two bulls were arguing over a local lovely, up and down the yard, butting heads. It was alot like the dance festival,but without the beer and the meat sticks. Anyway, I couldn't go back, or through, so I went around. It was a little tense for me for a few seconds, but the local women thought it was a hoot. Happy to oblige.

There's a game here called mbao, which means wood. It's played on a wooden board, and the object is to move the pebbles here and there, as quickly as possible. At Godfrey's house they just dig holes in the ground. It's very fast, and I can't figure it out. That's Carlee and Val playing.

As well as my obsession with all things fowl, I also have a real interest in whatever can be packed on the back of a bike. So far I've seen a coffin, lots of unhappy pigs,a stack of twenty flats of eggs, and a bed. This picture wasn't too unusual, just grasses, but it gives you a nice view of the big road to Kyela.

The last few are just pretty shots of Lake Nyasa, or Lake Malawi, depending on which country you're in. Lake Nyasa on my side.It's gorgeous and the sunsets are amazing. The whole area is spectacular, but my camera is old and only has 3.2 pixels.

Carlee has a great camera but it's so big and heavy she hardly ever uses it. Mine is light and I carry it everywhere, which is why I have this picture of the naked guy taking a bath at the beach. Mildly intrusive, but I was far away.

So how come I hardly get any emails? It wouldn't kill you guys to write and say hi. I've got less than six months left here and I'm already in a twist about coming home. Wish I could stay. But I miss my kids and the money won't last forever. My time is going so fast, too fast.
Take care, nakupenda. Mama L

[ Top of Page ]

09.10.08
Sent: Saturday, September 20, 2008 4:19 AM
Subject: Time on my hands Part 2
To:Everyone

I'm back in Mbeya, and except for a few minor things, Ngonga is done. John, Carlee and Amber painted, and it's the most beautiful chekchea in Tanzania. Still banned from work, so I painted at night. You can take the girl out of night shift...

It was gorgeous in the village, we ate good, and biked everyday. I let myself get very comfortable there, and I miss it.

Mostly I miss my bike, having a bike is like being a kid again. And I miss the bike guy, Ivo. He was safi sana, and kept the bikes in good working order. By that I mean he pumped our tires, brakes were another matter altogether.

I had a partial left brake, Carlee had a pinch of both and Val had none at all. The road is bumpy but not hilly, so it was ok. At least that's what Ivo (younger man in picture of two guys) told us when we rented them. And that's the prevailing belief out this way. Better you should have air in your tires. I just dragged my feet in the dirt to stop. Primitive, effective, and hard on the sandals. Pole sana to all the short people, they just kind of tip over.

It was too much fun, like living in a Three Stooges episode. Some days we'd be barreling down the path and suddenly there'd be another biker coming the opposite way around the curve, or a cow or something else. Carlee (Curly) would try to stop, I'd put my feet down and raise a huge dust cloud and Val (Moe) would holler "No brakes, no brakes".I was Larry. Only one minor mishap, Carlee ate it on a curve and almost got her head run over by another biker, tuck and roll, tuck and roll.

I miss my friend Gody (older guy in picture. Also note the old guy in the background picking his nose). Sometimes it's hard for me to relate to the local women, our lives are so, so different. They're oppressed, suppressed and repressed.

The men, though, do pretty much what they want. And so do I, so most of my rafiki nzuri here are men. Gody and his wife Betty are from Zambia originally, and Betty is the headmistress of the checechea.

Godfrey is the general go to guy. We're from the same time,Gody and I, and he knows all the old music. We drank sodas and ate beef sticks at the Pataya Inn in Kyela and gassed on about old rock groups.Sometimes life is too good.

He was also my translator for medical stuff. He's a trooper, I have to say. A woman came in to see me one day with a fertility problem. Not hers, obviously, she already has seven kids. But her 23 year old paramour (she's in her fourties) wants kids, and has none so far by anyone else.

So I was explaining to her about different fertility issues and we got to the boxers or briefs question. Gody soldiered on, though, complete with hand gestures. Us ladies were hysterical over the whole thing. Take your fun where you find it, I say.

Just before we left, a woman came to me with her son, who'd been treated for malaria at the local clinic, and was still languishing. I thought it was maybe typhoid, so I advised her to go into Kyela and get some labs done. Sure enough it was. I saw her in town that day, and she didn't have the ten bucks for the meds. Who does, here? So I gave it to her, typhoid is dangerous sana.

A few days later she came by with a zawadi (gift) for me. On her head she had about twenty pounds of rice, and in her arms was a chicken. All for me.

I was afraid the chicken would run off but Ada said hamna shida, just keep it inside the house for a few days and we would bond, or something like that.Right, but Carlee's afraid of chickens and we were leaving town,so it's at/in Gody's house.Besides, Deb's house has a cat and about six guard dogs, all hungry.

Nobody could understand why I didn't bring it back to Mbeya on the bus, because it's a zawadi chicken and you're supposed to keep a zawadi chicken, who knew? I kind of wanted to, just for the experience. I've never traveled with my own personal chicken, although I have sat next to a number of them.

I asked what I would do with it in Mbeya. Gody said fry it, Hilda said eat it, and they both think I'm nuts for not keeping it. I'll go back when it's fatter and juicier.

John is in Chunya,planting his shamba. Carlee is in Ruaha with Val for a month at Kiswahili camp. I'm trying to get there next week. I need some work on my pronouns and my wangu, yangu, changus.There's about twenty ways to say mine, depending on noun class. I've been avoiding this, because I hate to memorize, but it's time.

Most of the pictures are from around Mbeya, The old guy under the tree is my friend Babu. He's about as old as he can possibly be, and has really bad edema on his feet, complete with flies.And I think he's almost completely blind.

There's lots of beggars here, and Babu is one of my regulars.He just sits there all day,smiling and greeting. The young guy in the red hat is a little slow, and sometimes he wears a Boy Scout uniform. I like him alot, he finds me everytime I come to town. He saw me take Babus picture and ran over and wanted one.

I got some market pictures, I love the market. The woman with the bowl is one of a group of Masaai who make and sell beadwork on one corner. I bought the bowl, she zawadied me some blue beads.

The meat picture should illustrate why I'm halfway to vegetarianism over here. Sorry that you can't see the flies, or smell the smell, but that's about as close as I wanted to get.

The inside of the market has different sections, produce, meat, and there's even fast food. You can get chips (fries), and rice, all kine stuff. There's a chai and kahawa area, like Starbucks at Safeway.

Deb's house is above the hospital, and every day people gather by the street waiting to see the docs, or visiting people.Sometimes they sit there all day waiting. Vendors sell oranges and fish, anything. Some clothes sellers hang skirts and blouses and such from the fence, or lay them on the grass. It's my favorite place to shop, so convenient.

The coke store is at the bottom of the hill, and it's usually my last stop before heading home. Nice guy, he lets me return the coke bottles the next day.

All the boys here make lorries, and look closely, the wheels are made of old flip flops and water bottle caps.I love this place. There's always something new to look at.

The last one is a chekechea we're planning to do. It's nearby, and very small. And those brown plastic walls have to go. It's fun to watch the rooms transform,and the outside wall is in decent shape, so we're planning to paint that as well.

I'm going to Idweli tomorrow, to visit my friend the doc and his wife Mama Jackie. I'm bringing her a pumpkin, and maybe she'll make beans and rice too.She always asks what I want to eat,and that's it. I was thinking of bringing her a fat hen. She's a good cook, and I could finally make a trip with fowl. A few weeks ago I saw a woman carrying a chicken on her back, like a mtoto.

If you haven't spent much time with chickens, I need to tell you that they are the stupidest animals. Brainless. They run ahead of us on the bike path, trying to decide which side of the road to run to,back and forth, back and forth, and when they finally do decide, they go straight across our path. Every time. Feel free to weigh in on the chicken fettish, I'm willing to accept outside help.

I have my return ticket, Feb 8. Only two flights, which is nice, but it's two long ones.Because of time changes and the International Dateline, I arrive in Portland about ninety minutes after I leave Dar es Salaam. Would that it were true.
Take care, Nakupenda na tutaonana.

[ Top of Page ]

10.08.08
Sent: Wednesday, October 08, 2008 6:31 AM
Subject: Rollin on the river
To:Everyone

Salama. I'm at Swahili camp in Iringa and it's too much fun. Val,Carlee and I came for a small working likizo. John needed a month off to plant his shamba. Shamba is farm, mshamba is hick. I learned that here at camp.

I'm in a big tent by myself, which is good. It's cozy and close to the river, which is where we play kila siku (every day).

After biking everywhere in Kyela are fit and healthy, and we miss the exercise. So now we walk/ swim/ crawl or drag ourselves up the river for about an hour and float down.

It's tough getting up because of the current, but we've worked out our course.It twists and turns, and that makes the ride down even better. We just lie back and drift with the current, and look at the clouds and trees.

It's so quiet, and amazing birds fly by sometimes. Big blue and orange lizards bask on the rocks.We swim to the back of a big rock where the current is just perfect coming from both sides and swim in place.Tanzania treadmill. I keep saying it, life is too good.

School is fine, but I have things to do so I can only stay two weeks. Wazungu usually stay three or four months, especially if they're with a church.The good thing is I have some Swahili, so I'm learning things I have so far successfully avoided and I'll work on it in Mbeya.

My vocabulary is good, and I know my verbs, but noun classes and tenses are wretched things which I avoid like a trip to Dar. When I got here they put me in an intermediate class, but then they heard my grammar and demoted me to a lower class where we are all much happier.

I learned some cuss words too, 5,000 tsh to the person who can tell me the meaning of matako ya farasi. We have classes from eight till one, with a couple of breaks. The afternoon is free, so we can study or go to town, or walk up the river.I don't study too hard, or kwa bidii, but that was never my plan anyway.

These last two weeks have been great, so Carlee and I are coming back in January for another two weeks.This time I get a tented banda, one step up from a tent. Almost the same as the tent but it's bigger and has an electric plug. And a porch.

It'll be rainy season in January, and the hippo comes out then, so we might have to swim downriver. There's only one hippo,(I hear) so it shouldn't be too hard to avoid it. Or maybe we'll just find something else to do.

We have three meals every day, big ones. At first it was a novelty to have so much food available without having to cook it.But that's worn off now, asante Mungu. It's buffet style, lots of veggies, plus rice, potatoes and ugali. And meat, los of meat.A caloric minefield. Kwa bidii, I've been able to hold myself to one or two starches per day. Except ugali, I can resist ugali every time.The veggies are great.

I have been avoiding going to Dar since I got here. Two days in February were more than enough, but I need go after this for a week to get my registration for Tz. I'm saying this with full knowledge that most probably I won't get it in seven days, but it's time to start anyway.

The plan is also to try to see someone at UNESCO about a grant.I can see some of the people I met at nanenane, pimp the org and all that.Lots of biashara.

The first pictures are from Ngonga, I wanted you all to see what Carlee and John did on the outside.Very cool. The inside mural is Carlees. She has this great cartooney style. It makes people laugh, Gody visits every day just for the chuckle.

That's my friend Gody with Carlee and me on our bikes. I still miss my bike. Mwalimu anaitwa Mai.Our teacher is called Mai. This is us at school.We have classes in these little huts around the campground,and there's lots of trees and rocks and lizards to see out the windows.

The river looks so calm in the pictures but it's actually a workout to get to the top. We've been having a water access problem at the camp. Apparently the village to the right of us is having a feud with the camp to our left, so they cut the water lines . And as we are katikati ya (in the middle of)the village and the camp, we have no maji.

So the staff has been spending most of the last few days fetching water from the river so all the wazungu can shower. Hasn't been a problem for us, we swim everyday anyway, and it's the same water. But it's unfiltered, so while we look clean, the three of us smell like wet dogs and have leaves in our hair.

We saw these ants at the river the other day, there was about a million of them, all in a line on the sand, coming from somewhere in the sand and going back into the sand further on. The big ones with the scary pincers are the soldier ants. They make little bridges with their bodies for the smaller ones to use.And they direct traffic. Very organized. Big pincers.

That hanging thing is some kind of nest. That's all I've got on that until my swahili improves. Bado kidogo. Those are weaver bird nests in the shot with six nests.

I'm sure I can think of about a million other things to do besides go to Dar, but it's time. Dar ni joto sana sana.Too hot, too hot.Everytime I go to Dar I feel like I'm in renal failure.

Take care, and thanks for all the emails.I guess it pays to whine.
Nakupenda

[ Top of Page ]

11.11.08
Sent: Tuesday, November 11, 2008 4:52 AM
Subject: Frothing at the mouth in Mbeya
To:Everyone

For the most part I'd rather leave the kids with the UNICEF eyes to World Vision and all those other guys who so sussessfully part you from your bucks by making you feel guilty.

Personally I feel no guilt,the world is the world. Besides, there's lots of joy and laughter here, so I try to focus on that.

Kind of on a rant today, so bear with me. I had a grand plan the other day to run around all over the region, from Mbeya to Tukuyu, paying off all my monthly commitments and school fees in advance.

Lots of safaris planned for the next few months, so I wanted to get everything out of the way. Stupid plan.

First stop Tukuyu, to pay secondary school fees for Rose, Violet, Ahadi and Rama. I had heard that Rosie was mimba (pregnant), and a mimba girl gets thrown out of school. Of course, the boy walks away educationally untarnished.

So I payed fees for the other three and figured I'd stop by Idweli to find out the real deal re Rosie.Fortunately my friend the doc was there and he said he knew for sure that Rosie wasn't mimba.

The reason he knew this is that the headmaster occasionally rounds up all the girls (no consent required or desired) and sends them to the doc for pregnancy tests. Anyone who comes up positive is thrown out of school because they don't want her corrupting the morals of all the nonpregnant girls. Again, hamna shida for the boys.

This is the culture here. But at the same time, it's illegal to provide condoms to anyone under eighteen.

I left Idweli a little emotionally bruised,and with a small but persistent facial tic. Next stop Mbeya to pay school fees for Martha and Christina who attend a private school.

I was in the billing office when I spotted my Martha,crying. Seems that all the girls were getting caned. I went outside and there was the assistant headmaster with a big stick and about twenty scared, screaming girls on the ground awaiting their turn. The entire school was watching.

I got a little irate and maybe a little too loudly reminded the man with the stick that it's illegal to cane students in Tz, unless the proper procedures are followed. I was thinking of bringing in the cops but noticed one standing nearby, watching and chatting with a teacher (also watching).

I grabbed Martha and Chris and went into the headmasters office to rip his tits off and pull them out permanently.The problem is, as the headmaster reminded me, that they will be beaten at any school they attend. Too true, most schools here beat students, some more than others, some less.

Halfway through this meeting, a man came into the office and sat at the table with us, I assumed a teacher. They talked for a while in Swahili, when I interrupted to verify the new mans identity and purpose for attending this tense little gathering. "Oh, this is my friend, he came to visit and I'm informing him about what's going on."

How obtuse can a man be and still be in charge of 800 students? That obtuse. I asked the man to leave. Facial tic increasing in frequency. The upshot was that the headmaster would talk to the asst to make sure that from now on the girls would be beaten only by a woman.

Then Martha asked to be changed from boarding to day school. The reason being that the dormmaster beats them liberally and for no apparent reason (can't believe I just said that). So she will go to day school in January, and I'll go to the school between now and then to checkup on things. Again, the headmaster promised that the dorm girls would be beaten only by a woman.

I'm not really sure I can describe how I feel about all this, hopefully you share my disgust if not my facial tic.

Last month a man I know beat his wife because she refused him sex. I know all this because I treated her the next day. Wifebeating is a crime here, but a man is rarely punished. There's also a law that says a wife cannot refuse sex and must give it up on demand. Go figure.

Two weeks after he beat her, a man was caught stealing a bag of rice, and was beaten senseless for it. So from this I have figured out that a wife is worth less than a bag of rice. At least in Ngonga.

It's like pushing against the ocean here, sometimes you just cant win. So I guess I'm happy that the girls won't be beaten by a man anymore, that's the best I can do.

Are you too sick of this? I could go on and on, but you get the gist. I love Africa, I truly do. All these problems are not unique to Africa, and I don't want you to think that I think this.

I know plenty of gentle men and kind teachers. But when you get into the small, distant villages it's a different world. There was a line in a book I read a while back, "Peace Corps Volunteers return from South America politically aware, from Southeast Asia spiritually awakened, and from Africa drunk and laughing." Kweli sana (very true). I don't laugh because it's funny, it's just the best defense I've got.

I keep seeing the immigration guys in town, maybe I'm paranoid but I feel like I'm being followed. I saw them today and told him that before I left for America maybe he could take the GPS chip out.He denies it but I'm not so sure.

Actually, we've spent so much time together that we've become friends. They still occasionally make thinly veiled suggestions as to how I could procure a work permit. I've asked my roommates to help out, and if they loved me they would. But they won't. Carlee met one of them today at lunch (I told you they're everywhere). I thought I might just slide home when she said he was cute, but no dice.

I'm going to the dreaded Dar this week to try to get registered. Will stay up to two weeks, or until I die from the heatstroke or renal failure.

Given the nature of this email, I have no relevant pictures. A friend of mine got some pictures of teachers beating students at the secondary school where he teaches, and the were less than thrilled with him. I have the videos but will not send.

Anyway, these are just pictures I thought you'd like. The brick and mud thing is a local kiln. When they build houses here, this is how they start. The whole thing is a pile of bricks, the holes are for the fire, and the mud is for insulation. Pretty clever.

The wire sculpture is a car a kid made, also clever. The door to nowhere is not so clever, but there you go. The shot of the Peace Corps volunteers holding the kanga was taken at a local hospital where we all went to watch the election results, and I am furahi sana that Obama won.

The kanga (fabric) says Ndiyo, tunaweza, which is swahili for Yes, we can. I think maybe we can, in America. We sure as hell can't here.

Take care, marafiki, nakupenda na tutaonana February. L

[ Top of Page ]

11.24.08
Sent: Monday, Nov.24, 2008 11:44
Subject: Fun in the sun
To:Everyone

Just got back from Dar. I've been whining and moaning about going and finally got sick of my ownself and decided to go have fun at any cost and not hate it. I actually did, for the most part. But then I only stayed 3 days, and I had air conditioning.

First pic is of the alleyway to my 30,000 tsh per night hotel.Had a tv too, with lots of Arabic and Indian channels plus HBO with the oldest movies alive. I loved it.

Some differences between Dar and Mbeya, aside from the weather:

Ran into some friends from Mbeya while I was there. Goba is a rasta who sells his beads and carvings under a jacaranda tree in Mbeya town, and I taught him to eat with chopsticks.See pic of guy eating fried squid.

Got some good stuff done in three days. Found a reputable man to do the paperwork for my registration. But it's gonna cost me. I've had no luck doing it myself,any mistake will set me back weeks and and there's always mistakes. So this makes me very happy.

Even better is we have more work. I went to pick up a Kiswahili sign language book for the little deaf kid in Ngonga and spent some time with the people at the Tanz Assoc for the Deaf and we're going to paint their schools.

The ride home was uneventful, 12 hours of long and longer. The driver was pretty good, aside from avoiding the pertol trucks by passing at 100 k/hr.This happens every trip, guaranteed, about every five minutes when the traffic gets heavy.

I usually say a little prayer at the start of a journey, only an idiot wouldn't. My karma must be good, though, because my seatmate was a nun. I knew I was home free when she crossed herself and pulled out her shiny blue rosary. It did cross my mind once that maybe anything bad would bypass her and land directly on me, but I set that aside in favor of divine intervention by close proximity.

I got this blurry shot from my friends car, pole za focus. But I just wanted you to know that Dar had their 3rd Annual Taxpayers Day Celebration. Given the pitiful salaries these guys get here I imagine it wan't much of a party.

This is a picture of a playground in Mbeya. I never see anyone play in it, they're probably put off by the barbed wire.

The short sleeved suit (pronounced sweet by the locals) is the fashion lately, although you couldn't tell it by the woman standing to his right.

Carlee and I were walking to work one day when this monster bug hopped into the street. The locals already think we're nuts, more so now they've watched us take pictures of dudu (a bug) in the middle of the road.

So far I've been fine financially (get ready), but the registration is going to cost me about 1000 USD. This includes fees, paperwork,and office rent for one year, paid in advance. Unexpectedly expensive but also unavoidable. I have enough money to finish all the projects, pay John, and buy paint. If I could eat paint, even better. And with my usual stellar sense of timing, I've decided to ask during the holidays and in the middle of a recession.. I can only say samahani (excuse me).

So if you guys can take up a collection please send it to me at Western Union in Mbeya. It's the easiest way. My PayPal isn't working right, and I can't deal with it till I return. They might ask you to provide a test question so I can pick up the money. Make it simple please. How about I provide a few sample questions. 1. Where do I work? Kaiser for those of you who don't know me but get emails. 2. Lets just stick with number one. I'm not penniless, just have no wiggle room.

We were planning to go to Burundi in December to check out the school building project, but Carlee got online and checked the UN travel warnings and there were some serious warnings about travel in Bujumbura, where we will be going. I read something about always traveling in a two car convoy.Fresh out of two car convoys but could probably scare up a mess of bikes without brakes.So we might not go.

We've been compiling a list of snippets of conversations we've either overheard or participated in, particular to the third world:

Hope everything is ok at home, and that everyone likes the charting.And please, someone from 2No please ask Kerry to email me. Have a good Thanksgiving. Ayla, bibi alisema nakupenda. Liz

[ Top of Page ]

12.23.08
Sent: Tuesday, December 23, 2008 2:10 AM
To: All Subject: Peeing on a moving train
To:Everyone

Just got back from Zambia, where we went for Carlee's visa run.If the train had stalled one more day we would have officially spent more time in transit than we spent in Lusaka (capital of Zambia). All the warning signs were there, we just failed to heed them. How it happened:

1. Despite all the train related horror stories we've heard about Tazara (Tanzania Zambia Railway), we opted to try anyway. It's very cheap, and you get to see alot of the country. It's rainy season now, and everything is so green and beautiful.The train office was closed for two days, first was Uhuru Day, Tz Independence Day. The second was Eid, a Muslim holiday. So on our third try we got on the now even longer line and waited about three hours while everyone else got tickets. When we got to the front the ticketmaster told us to come back in three hours to see "if the train might come" and then buy our tickets. Everyone else got tickets, but for some reason not us, so instead of waiting at the train station like everyone else, where they even have baby cribs (talk about being prepared), we were told to wait at home and return q3h (every three hours for you non nurses). Despite repeated and heated efforts, we could not convince the ticket nazi to part with the tickets. So we headed, in disgust, for the bus.

2. Uneventful trip to the border, aside from one touts insistence that I buy his typhoid balls, and his further insistence that his typhoid balls are typhoid free. For the untraveled, typhoid balls are little lumps of fried meat that sit in a wood and glass box, in the heat,on the seller's head, ALL DAY, or until the next day if that's how long it takes to sell them. Typhoid free my fat white matako. Although my friend Ben eats them, and he lives, (I saw him yesterday).

3. We crossed the Tz/Zambia border without incident. Well, there was a small disagreement between me and the immigration officer. But what else is new. Then a bus ride from the border to Lusaka, which theoretically takes about twelve hours. It was to depart "at 3:40 madam, no problem" So we left at about seven, who knows, but it was dark, and arrived at Lusaka about 8am. It's lovely when you can lay your seat back to relax, but the levers stick into your thighs, which gets old on an overnight bus ride.

4. Spent a few days at Kuomboka Backpackers Hostel, dorm style,about 6 bucks per night. Flush toilets and hot showers down the path, can't beat it with a stick. Lusaka is just a big city, with nothing really to distinguish it except wonderful baked goods (sadly lacking in Tz), and edible, chewable meats. Tanzania meats come in two flavors, chicken gum and beef gum. Also movies, real movies, for about two bucks. All in all a good few days. There's also a mall, in the shiny white part of town. There's a place called Mint, where we had iced coffee drinks. Maybe you think this is all too superficial, but I live here, so it's not about sightseeing, it's about food.

5.We decided to try to take the train again (no comments please). First stop to Tazara office to book/pay for tickets. No tickets at Tazara, but the very nice lady at the office did give us a handwritten, stapled note to give to the stationmaster. Fine.

Carlee, Annabelle and I went to the bus stand to get the bus to the train station. The train leaves at 1600, two days a week. we got to the bus before 8am. It's a few hours ride to Tazara Station and the buses don't leave until they're full. But the ticket guy told us we would leave "by 10, madam, no problem". Insert remark about my fat white matako. Anyway, by 12:30 we were on our way. There were some stops for this and that, but we were only slightly concerned because nothing here is on time. We were concerned, though, because we didnt have a ticket. We asked Annabelle if she had one. " No, but I have a note." Annabelle is an MD from Holland who was returning from Lusaka to Makambako, and we shared the dorm and train compartment.We got a cab to the station, and the cabbie tried to tell us he didn't have change, thinking we'd give him the extra. But I'm a hardened pro by now and told him pole sana, he would get less if he couldn't find change. As luck would have it, about ten of his friends were loitering about, their pockets bulging with change for me.

6. Mungu yangu, the train was not only on time, but actively trying to leave. We ran and got on with a few minutes to spare. Safely seated in our four berth, first class compartment, we settled in for an afternoon on sightseeing out our fairly large window, which was held up by a stick.

7. Fell asleep that night to the mostly gentle rocking of the train, (Carlee put extra blankets on the floor to soften my landing just in case. Lower bunks have no rails). We were stopped in the morning but soon were on our way again. For about two hours. Then we stopped. And stayed.

8. For the next 36 hours we sat and listened to music and read the same two Cosmos which Annabelle had bought in South Africa or Namibia... I've never actually read a Cosmo, mostly they just look like ads with skinny women in very high heels. I have now read two, cover to cover, some articles twice. We tried,oh how we tried,to find out a) the reason for the delay and b) when we would leave. We were able to find out that

9. So we sat, and for the most part it was good. The kids outside provided some entertainment, playing and selling mangoes (100 kwachas, about two cents). We listened to music, bucket showered, slept.

Annabelle spent alot of time at the bar, I drummed up business for the org, (also in the bar), and Carlee had her own private dance marathon in the cabin. Carlee and Annabelle went into Kasama Town. I know it was called Kasama, because it was painted on the train station wall we looked at for 36 hours.

I stayed in the cabin. There must be someone in the cabin at all times,as the trains and bus stations are famous for the skill and inventiveness of their thieves. We were advised by the staff to keep the door and window locked at night, as the thieves can, and will, reach in and grab whatever rests on the table.

Aside from that, all the doors between the cars are windowless, ALL the doors. After the fourth warning, we figured they were serious and complied. Annabelle went visiting some South Africans down the hall and while they were having some beers a mwezi slipped into the next cabin and made off with a good haul. Money, clothes and horror of horrors, a passport.The poor guy had to go back to Lusaka for a replacement, which can take forever.

The first morning Carlee jumped down from her berth to use the choo (toilet) down the hall and came running back with deer in the headlight eyes. Immediately interested, I looked up and there, for our viewing pleasure, were two uniformed guards with AK47s slung across their shoulders. Between them, boneless, semiconscious, being dragged by the feet and arms, was the man who had apparently pulled the emergency brake the previous night. He was being taken to the jail cell, conveniently located behind first class.

Carlee stayed in the cabin, I ran after the guys with the guns, bored and nosy. Couldn't find them though, I tried to tell Carlee that maybe he needed medical attention, she saw right through that one.

10. Some advantages to traveling first class:

11. After repeated teasers and promises, we said a not so tearful farewell to Kasama and left for Mbeya, without further interruptions. Still unsure about the elephants. Annabelle spent some time with her phone calculator and figured out that at 118,000 kwacha, (about 23.60 USD), our trip, including 24 hour actual trip plus 36 hours wait time, came to roughly 40 cents per hour. Pretty good for first class travel.

12. A random note about train toilets in the third world. They empty out onto the tracks, which was only a problem during our extended layover. Then there's the window, which is situated right about the level of our collective butts. Again, no problem until our layover.

The trick is to pee while the train is in motion. As only an idiot would make actual porcalain to buttock contact, it's necessary to squat while bracing yourself against the walls. I have long arms so hamna shida. And all the biking I've been doing has strengthened my thighs so I was feeling cocky about my urinary skills.

What I didn't bargain for is that when the train lurched I would bang my head against the wall and pee down my leg. Serves me right. I tried to clean up, amid the rocking and lurching, but the sink didn't work, so I did my best and went back to the cabin. Huge laugh for Carlee.

So we're back safe and sound. Made some good contacts while in Zambia. More and more people are getting interested in the walls, and we've been invited to a few cities to talk and show people how to do them. In reality, we can't do them all ourselves. And we dont want to. What we want is to give the idea to people in education and let them take over. It's looking pretty positive at this point. This is good news to us, the smallest NGO in the world.

There's no Zambia pictures, my camera alikufa. It has been with me for three trips now, and tried valiantly to complete this last foray into photo heaven, but in the end, it gave up. I do mourn it, in my way, but at the same time I want one with more pixels. This will improve the quality of my pics.

So here's some Mahongo shots. I am here with Sister Isabella, who was going to talk me through killing my first fowl. Everyone in Africa old enough to wield a knife has this skill, and from the next shot, this does not include me. Sister finished the job, hell she started it, I didn't even make a cut. But it was tasty.

That's Sister Donata chopping the veggies. These nuns were sent to paint a house that will eventually house orphans. The had no experience, being nuns, but they jumped right in. We gave them some of our painting clothes because their habits were a mess, but they couldn't be seen out of habit so wore the shirts under the aprons. Very cool nuns.

Some goats spend time indoors,maybe reading, maybe resting, bit mostly chewing and watching the wazungu walk by. The bed was mine while I was in Mahango. We lived with Babu. Babu is grandfather. After a few days there I had to go on pain pills for my ordinarily healthy back. Hamna shida, we don't need a prescription here. Recall the rohypnol episode of a few months past.

Inside the five teacups are five roaches in varying stages of death and decay. We ran out of spray one day, and as I can't step on them because of the popping sound they make, I covered them with a cup. Carlee coined the term cupping, sounds like a sport, and it did give us some joy. There were cups all over the house until Debra, our roommate, who is on the lease, made us stop. She said it's disgusting and she serves guests with the cups. I think they're functional as well as decorative, but it's not my house. The rest are random shots of Mahongo before the rainy season.

Take care, everyone. See you soon. Nakupenda na Krismas njema.

[ Top of Page ]

02.07.09
Sent: Saturday, February 07, 2009 10:25 AM
To: Subject: Leaving voluntarily
To:Everyone



Which is a departure from my usual mode of reentry into first world living. Despite my continuing Immigration difficulties I have managed to make my year and will be home on Feb 9. In my less mature moments I think about giving them a big nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah; but I do want to return and I'd hate to have them meet me at the airport when I come back here.

I'm going to miss this place. While not a whole lot surprises me in the US, there's always something here. The other day Carlee and I were riding the daladala, and a soldier stepped in and stood next to us.

This in itself is an ordinary thing, as was the umbrella in his right hand. What was startling was the double barrelled shotgun in his left. Stranger still, no one seemed to notice but Carlee and I. Carlee especially, as she was sitting directly next to him; and everytime the daladala swerved the gun pointed straight at her head.

Halfway into the ride I was imbicillic with laughter, and Carlee was practically sitting on my lap.You have to love a place like this. At least I do.

It was a good year, here's what happened:

There was lots more, we do a lot of small things, but I just wanted you to know what was done with the 30,000 USD we started with. This also includes my personal expenses; rent, food, travel, Swahili school.....

We also placed about 48 copies of Where There is no Doctor (in Swahili) in various schools, libraries and clinics in the area. We also developed an instruction manual for the teachers to demonstrate how to use the walls.

When I came this time, it was to see how the walls would be received. I knew it was a good idea, and that it would work. Carlee and I did it in Idweli in 2005.

What I didn't realize was how many schools would want them. While I am in the US, John and Carlee will be painting Itiji Primary School in Mbeya. The great thing about Itiji is that it also is the school for the deaf. We will be doing all the other deaf schools as well.

We also talked to a retired teacher in Iringa who now works for the Board of Education and she's very interested in the project and thinks we need to put them all over. So we'll see.

Still working on the registration, so far it's cost about $500 USD and will cost about 500 more, but then we'll be registered in Tz as a branch of the American organization. I've been told that Immigration will back off then, and that's when I'll give them a nyah nyah.

There were a few things that we tried that didn't work out, there always is. But they were few and we learned from them, which makes them valuable.

It's time for a request, a final plea for assistance. My computer crashed. There was a terrible virus here, and although I did have most everything backed up (amazing), I don't trust it anymore. It was reformatted, but still has a few problems. My friend David, Chris's husband, is a computer guy and is fixing it. It will then go to John, who needs it if we are to be working while I am in America. He is taking computer classes as we speak.

What I need is an old laptop. If it's cheap I can buy it, or I can gladly accept it as a donation. Whatever. So if anyone is upgrading, keep us in mind. Asante.

That's it. I want to thank everyone who helped me when I needed it. I've only heard snippets of whats happening over there, and I'm soon to find out myself. So thank you everyone. Wish me safari njema. See you soon.
Nakupenda wote.

[ Top of Page ]
<< Back to Journal Page