If You Want Efficiency, Try an Umbrella Stand

I set off to town today with a short list of errands, one of which was to register for another cell phone line (part of my ongoing efforts to diversify my internet connection options in an ever-changing market). All things mobile here work on the prepaid system, so getting a sim card is normal, cheap, and usually easy... except when you forget--again!--that the Vodacom shop closes at noon on Saturdays.

But then I remembered where I live, how there are always other ways to get things done. I looked, and sure enough, the umbrella stands outside the phone company's store were still open for business in the afternoon hours. You can get the prepaid vouchers all over, and even use mobile banking in many places... Would these official stands be able to provide me with a new line, as well? Yes, indeed!

(The sheet wasn't there at first. I think a friend had just bought it and left it there while attending to something.)

I was intrigued to watch the process. After waving me to sit beside her on a wooden bench, this lady alternated between a smart phone and the most basic of cell phones to enter my passport information, snap my picture (against a solid-color door of a conveniently closed shop nearby), and get a signature sample that bears as little resemblance to my name as any touch screen version I've seen. The process was perfectly straightforward and took less time than I would have spent waiting in line at the main store.

Afterwards I summoned my courage and asked if I could take a picture. (Already I was thinking this might be a fun thing to share.) Zainabu, as I discovered she is named, was happy to consent. She gave me her number, and when I got home I returned the favor by looking her up on Whatsapp and sending the photo. And that's how I came to be featured in Zainabu's profile pic. :)

I Buy a "Brenda" from a Curbside Peddler

It's a public holiday, and my housemate and I thought we'd go to the market to look at fabrics. As we walked around town, I heard a loudspeaker issuing announcements that I could actually understand--possibly because the words were nicely enunciated (unlike the usual rapid-fire of this season's political campaigning), but perhaps also because the subject was daily life kitchen stuff, fruits and vegetables. Did it just say... Yes! Something about making juice! That will get my attention anywhere.

Just across the street was a van with its back door propped open, and under the resulting shade was a peddler showing off his wares on a plastic table. It was just like demonstrations of kitchen gadgets that I've seen in U.S. supermarkets, with one key difference: These tools use no electricity! There was a juicer with a hand crank and a blender that looked for all the world like a lettuce spinner, along with a couple of smaller cutting tools.

(I felt so very brave, taking out my camera in public!)

He had a constant audience, men and women of all ages, as he demonstrated how easily he could chop, squeeze, blend, etc. a whole heap of vegetables and fruits. And the salesmanship! This guy was a pro. He took a carrot and announced, "On Monday, you prepare your carrots like this..." and he rapidly produced some thin slices on a miniature mandolin slicer. "On Tuesday, you do this..." and he grated the carrot on the same device. "On Wednesday..." and there was a pile of long, flat shavings. And on he went, through the days of the week, reducing the carrot into lots of uniquely cut shapes. Rebekah and I were quite entertained!

So what is this "Brenda" I purchased? Let's see if we can translate. First, you have to understand that r and l are completely interchangeable in Swahili, especially in our area of the country. So if you see one of those letters, try the word again with the other. Now, imagine that the -er word ending is impossible to pronounce. Any borrowed English word ending in -er will have to adapt to the open "ah" sound at the end instead. Figure out what I bought?

Yeah, I thought it would make a great Christmas present for a friend here. A time-saver for houses with no electricity, perfect!

Oh, and if you're curious about the original goal of our market trip, here is the outcome.

Packaging Specifications

Living in Tanzania continues to teach me lots about my own assumptions. For example, how do you buy pharmaceuticals? As in, what exactly is in your hand when you leave the store? Ever thought about that?

The situation: One of my dogs has been looking rather thin, so I figure that a deworming course would be a good idea. It's been ages, after all. (If you're wondering about the diagnostic process and the lack of mention of any vet, just stick with me for now. The uncomfortable equality of health "common sense" and medical expertise would be a whole separate blog post.)

Solution, part 1: Find out what drugs to buy. I was able to cheat on this one, because some teammates recently did that research in town. Thanks, guys!

Solution, part 2: Send my gardener/day guard with some cash and the name of the drug written on a piece of paper. (I am so very thankful for this errand option!)

Unforeseen development: My day guard returns with four pills wrapped in a bit of newspaper. He explains that it's supposed to be administered in food and asks if he should go ahead and cook some. (No, you can't purchase dog food here. You make it each day.)

At first I just smiled in recognition of the makeshift pill packet and agreed with the plan. Then I started thinking of questions... "So each dog gets two pills?" No, since only one dog looks poorly, he only asked for one dose. (Ok, makes sense, but haven't I heard that pets are supposed to be dewormed together, just in case? Not sure...) "And wait, aren't there subsequent doses? I thought they get pills more than once...?" No, the guy at the store didn't say anything about that. (Is my memory off? Or maybe these meds work differently?)

By now my day guard is asking if I want both dogs dosed, and I'm feeling more and more inclined to play it safe. As I go to get the right change for a second (single) dose, I suddenly turn around and ask, "Do they sell these pills by the box?"

Yes, they do, but I hadn't asked for a whole box, had I? As we continued discussing the situation, I apologized for not asking for the specific thing I wanted. To offer some defense for my slip of mind, I did explain that I'm only accustomed to buying pills by the box or bottle. This got a good laugh.

So we're going to try again tomorrow, and my Western self is going to take great comfort in reading the directions on the pill box in detail.

But beneath the amusing miscommunication, what's going on here? I didn't think to say, "Purchase a whole box"; I just assumed that would happen. My day guard didn't think any further instructions were needed; after all, he knew the problem at hand. Why do we have such different defaults?

I'll hazard a guess: In a subsistence-based society, it is most normal to buy only what is absolutely necessary at any given time. My preference for preparedness (dosing both dogs the prescribed number of times, whatever that is) and knowledge (understanding the whole procedure, not just second-hand "need to know") smacks of a background of luxury.

This is just another example in a long list of instances that have shown me what a privileged upbringing I enjoyed. I won't give myself a guilt trip for blessings received, but I will be thankful that I can buy the whole box of pills, complete with instructions.

And I will ponder the consequences of a society accustomed to buying as little medicine as possible--and trusting the pharmacist to communicate everything they need to know.

Do you buy pills by the box? Do you know how wealthy you are?

Lake Fly Plague in VIDEO

Every couple years we get a particularly crazy lake fly storm. At least, that's what I gather when I look at past blog posts (2010, 2013). When the swarming gets ridiculously out of control, you have to find a way to have fun with it somehow!

Today's lake fly deluge was particularly intense, and I decided it called for video documentation. Enjoy! ;-)

Ode to Guava

Have you ever eaten a guava? I don't remember trying them before I came to Tanzania. They have a mild, sweet taste, and I wasn't sure what I thought about them at first. Then I moved into a house with fruit trees. (See my 2013 post about my beloved machenza.) The guavas are the first to ripen, and I've come to really like them.

So what can you do with guavas? Here's a quick tutorial.

First, pick a bunch of guavas. See, this is going to be fun.

If they're firm and still kind of greenish, let them sit for a day or two for maximum yumminess.

You can, of course, just eat them for a quick treat. If they're good and ripe, utensils are not strictly necessary, as my teammate Sarah demonstrates below.

My preference is to cut them in half and scoop out the pink insides with a spoon.

Do you have any other tropical fruits handy? Guava makes a great addition to a smoothie!

This recipe uses (from the bottom): mango, banana, guava, and passion fruit.  Some local "strawberry" flavored yogurt provides the base.

Delicious!

Remember, you have a whole basin full of the things, with more ripening outside. Why not blend up a bunch and make some guava juice? You can't go wrong with fresh pink juice.

One more picture, a symbol of hope for all this scrumptiousness:

Weather Forecast: 100% Chance of Tangerines

The rains have ceased, but my house is still experiencing showers... of fruit. Instead of the steady drum of rain, I now hear a periodic BANG! as another tangerine lands on my roof.

When I first moved into this house, I thought the tree growing on one side was some sort of wild orange tree. Regular oranges here can be quite tart themselves, so I didn't bother to try a wild one. More recently, I've discovered another citrus fruit sold seasonally here: tangerines. I sampled one of the things in my yard, and sure enough, I have my own supply, right about this time every year!

A word about these tangerines (maybe more than one): Delicious. Juicy. Flavorful. Sweet. They remind me of clementines, except much bigger. In Swahili, one is a chenza, which I think is beautiful. Anyway, they're great.

And I have heaps of them. Literally.

We can't pick them fast enough! My guards take home bags of them, and still the machenza fall to the ground, where they split open for the ants. Despite my ravings over these tangerines, I can often forget to eat one during a busy day--even though I leave them out on the table, in plain sight! That's irrelevant, though. I could eat one at every meal, and still my consumption would not match the supply.

Now, however, we have finished the school semester, and I finally took a little time to try juicing my tangerines. The experiment was a definite success! The juice is delicious on its own, no sugar needed. I happened to have a couple passion fruit (also from my property!) that needed eating, so I added their juice to this first batch for a little extra tang. I love juice, so the future is looking bright!

The two tangerines are actually smaller than normal. (The big ones got juiced!) Notice the color, though! They seem best when they're just starting to turn yellow.

With my luck, tangerine season will now finish, just when I'm ready to cash in on all this free, delicious fruit. That's okay--I'll be traveling soon, anyway. And next year, I'll be ready!

Lake Flies Again

Every house has its drawbacks, right? Here in Musoma, it's not too difficult to find lakefront property. (Just one of the perks of a town located on a peninsula.) I am privileged to enjoy my house on the world's second largest lake and the beautiful sunsets just outside my back porch.

taken about this time last year

But, like I said, there are always drawbacks. We in Musoma pay for our picturesque location by suffering seasonal (i.e., returning, over and over again) plagues of LAKE FLIES. If you aren't familiar with this useless creature, take a look at the post from my memorable introduction to the species.

In fact, if the term "lake flies" doesn't make you cringe, take a look at the post anyway. You need context for what I'm about to show you.

This week we were invaded by massive swarms of lake flies, one of the worst assaults I've seen in a while. While we adults went about sweeping out the classrooms (as much as possible) and, in general, trying not to inhale or swallow the tiny insects swirling everywhere, guess what the kids did?

They did what creative, resourceful kids do: They used the lake flies to create games.

First game: Grab handfuls of the insects from where they've collected, say in my windowsills, and throw them at each other. We don't get snow in Musoma, after all. This first game was soon outlawed, when certain students responded poorly to receiving clouds of bugs directly in their faces.

Second game: Build a lake-fly man. Again, we have no snow. Although plenty of building material was available on my porch, the kids soon abandoned this second game. Little dead bugs don't mold or stack very well.

Third game: Run through lake fly swarms with mouths wide open, to see who can capture the most and keep them in their mouth the longest.

I kid you not. 
Seriously, how could I make this up?

See the cloud of specks against the background of the tree? Lake flies. See what my students are doing? I told you I wasn't making this up.

All through the morning break, I'd hear, "Cloud up!" and the kids would ready themselves to one side of an isolated lake fly swarm. They'd wait for the right moment, when someone would yell, "Cloud down!" and they'd charge through, mouths stretched open.

And yes, they found it disgusting. That must have been part of the appeal, because they'd run back and do it again. Kids came back into class complaining about their empty water bottles, because they needed to "swallow down the ones still stuck" in their throats.

Yeah, I have nothing else to say!

Thankful for Little Things

Isn't Thanksgiving great?  You know you'll hear the question, "What are you thankful for?"  So the days leading up to the holiday give you a good chance to think through exactly that.  This year there were several things that aren't exactly super significant in themselves, but each one has added to my life.

There are two acquisitions, made possible by generous people, that have made this second term in Tanzania that much smoother than my first.  One is a little washing machine.

I was able to get this early in the year, thanks to some send-off gifts.  It's just wonderful to throw in my clothes and a little later take them straight to the clothesline!  (Assuming there is electricity, water, and the intake tubes are not clogged, thanks to the dirty water.)  Last term I made regular trips to the houses of gracious teammates who let me use their machines.  This is so much easier!

Then there is my kindle, purchased before I returned to Tanzania when someone gave me a gift "to get yourself something."

I think I could just about say that this little gadget has changed my life.  I love to read; I always have a book going.  I read before bed to "shut down" my mind for the night, so at least that much reading happens every day, even when I'm busy.  Last term I had to be very careful--because when I finished a certain book, what would I read next?  Shipping books all the time gets pricey!  With the kindle, I'm just reveling in my ongoing access to reading material.

There are also a couple things I've been enjoying in recent months.  Thanks to increasing internet options, I can now watch football! ;)

I enjoy watching team sports, even just part of a game while I eat supper, and this is the first time I've been able to watch much at all while in Musoma.  (World Cup 2010 was a nice exception.)  I won't write a lot here, since I featured this little fun thing in an entry not long ago.

One more little blessing: my new kitten, Orio.

I love cats, but only now have I felt ready to take on the responsibility of owning one in Musoma.  Pets are always a responsibility, and my life here adds some challenges.  What will I do when I travel (which happens a lot)?  How will I keep my house comfortable for teammates with cat allergies?  Not to mention the fact that pet food is not for sale in Musoma.
Now that I've decided to take on the challenges, I am so happy to have my crazy little bundle of fur!  I wouldn't say I'm lonely, but it is fun to have a creature to love in an otherwise empty house.  To see more cute kitten pictures, click here.

Little things, yes, but still blessings!

Sundays with No Church

When I'm home in Houston I love going to my church on Sundays.  Here in Musoma Sundays are an ongoing experiment.  Occasionally I visit a church here, but the cultural, social, and language barriers turn the experience into more of a field trip than a time of worship, fellowship and learning.  Plus, I generally make it to the weekend exhausted & in need of refreshment.  A long, physically and emotionally draining outing does not sound like a great idea.  So how does one celebrate the Lord's day at home alone?

There are many possibilities, certainly.  I'm writing because I have just enjoyed a very nice Sunday, and I'm thankful.  So to share my joy...

First of all, I must admit, I celebrated by not setting my alarm clock last night. :)  With inconsistent sleep during the week, I savor the chance to catch up on the weekends.

Once awake and breakfasted, I was ready for some special Sunday activities.  Not long ago I came across an interesting resource: an NLT Bible that comes with liturgical-style readings and meditations from believers of different times and places, called The Mosaic.  My church background didn't involve liturgy, so to me it's fascinating.  When I read about this book online, I thought it might be just the thing for my own little Sunday worship times.  I couldn't exactly run out to my nearest bookstore to buy it, but I could download the Lent portion, thanks to Amazon's kindle store.  (I don't own a kindle, but short entries like this I can read off my computer screen.)  So today I looked up the week's Scripture readings, read the meditations and prayers, and thoroughly enjoyed it.  I read much of it out loud, in order to focus my attention and break the silence.  Doing that seems to make it more substantial, more real.

Afterwards, I looked up a sermon online.  (Last week I was unable to do this because I ran out of internet credit.  Today I was exulting in my new internet access plan--which not only works most of the time, but also gives me a lot more data, and is not dependent on electricity!  My power was off most of the day.)  I often listen to sermons from my home church (see CorkinGoodSermons.com, available through iTunes), and I also sometimes mix in a few messages from Jon Piper's Desiring God ministries.  Today was a Piper day.  In fact, I ended up listening to two sermons.  (That came about in a funny, accidental way but doesn't bear explaining here.)  Meanwhile, I found that I could download the ESV Bible for free(!) with the kindle program--very convenient to have on the screen while I listened.  Anyway, I reveled in the preaching of John 7.  Hooray for Bible teaching!  It is such a treasure.

To round out my time, I chose some music to listen to.  Something God-centered and encouraging.  My frequent choices these days are David Crowder's Church Music and Switchfoot's Hello Hurricane.  Today I picked the latter.  It's such a good album, so many winners.  I hear a song and think, "Oh yeah, this was the good one," and then the very next song is like that, too... and the next...!

While I listened to sermons and music, my eyes and hands were busy.  I like to have something for them to do while my mind processes what I'm hearing.  Today I was coloring!  I used to get out these "coloring books for grown-ups" (my designation) often, but the new one I brought to Tanzania with me has waited until now.  There's something so satisfying about watching the ink from my markers gradually fill the little spaces of a Celtic-inspired design.  (Mindware makes the coloring books, in case you're curious.)  I'm no artist, but I do think that the beauty of line and color is a gift from God.

I didn't spend the entire day at home by myself.  My teammates Alison and Ellen invited me to go to lunch with them after their church.  We had a very nice time at this little cafe on the lake, chatting and waiting for the food.  Turns out their church service went much longer than expected, so we didn't get to the cafe until around 3:00!  Although they were positive (overall) about going, I couldn't help but be glad for the way I had spent the previous 4 hours.

Thank You, Lord, for the good day spent with You!  Help me to now be ready for Monday!

Rains Come with a Vengeance

"So, did the rain cause problems at your house last night?"

That was the standard question around town yesterday.  We are in the second rainy season now; the first was strong from November through mid-January.  In general, rain is welcomed here.  Even as it renders the dirt roads impassable, people are still thankful, for the sake of their crops.  But the duration and strength of the first rains pushed the limit.  One of my night guards descibed the trouble he and his wife were having keeping water out of their (mud brick) house.  As he put it, "The rains are good, we need the rain.  But if they don't stop soon, we won't have a place to live anymore."

After a mostly-dry season of about a month, the rains are back, and Wednesday night's storm was the hardest yet, I think.  It picked up around 10:00, as I was getting ready for bed.  Listening to the wind, I unplugged electronics, and sure enough, the power went out soon after.  I also made certain all my windows were closed, and I cleared things out from in front of doorways.  Previous rains have shown me what to expect in this house.  I did not expect enough, though.  After a five minute trip to the bathroom, I discovered water seeping under the front door had made it all the way down the hall, around the turn, and into my room.  As I ran around looking for towels or even sheets to sop up the water, the vehemence of the storm lashing against the house made me tremble.  I was reminded of hurricane season in Houston.  The house was pelted with such strong thuds, I wondered if the rain had been joined by hail.  That was confirmed by others the next day.

Although the storm brought me plenty of excitement, I was glad my little containable stream of water was all I had to deal with.  Our translation offices had a couple rooms under water, I hear.  My coworkers got plenty of water inside, but on top of that, the torrents rushing down from the road plowed deep into the ground and tore up the foundations of one section of their courtyard wall, pulling down their front gate.  What a mess.  Apart from the major concerns, I was also saddened by the state of their beautiful garden--flowers flattened, seedlings swept away.  Small things have their own poignance.

It's the truly big things I can't get my mind around.  Mud brick is indeed the common method of house construction; it's not hard to imagine what can happen in a good storm.  I heard reports of collapsed houses, and each time one family was mentioned: three people who were inside their house when it collapsed--now dead.  There were rumors of others as well, and it's not the first time.  If I was momentarily afraid, even in my strong house, what must it be like to listen to a storm from within one of these little homes, knowing what it could do?

This isn't a large-scale disaster like Haiti and Chile have experienced, but for me, it's close to home.  It reminds me of the tenuous balance of people's lives here.  "The rains are good, we need the rain.  But if they don't stop soon..."

Lake Fly Plague

Perhaps you have seen the Planet Earth episode showing the "smoking lakes" of East Africa. Here's the part I'm talking about:

I hate to break it you, but BBC lied. In the video, the narrarator states that after mating, the flies "all drop to the water's surface... and die." That is not true. I know, because I live on the eastern shore of Lake Victoria, and I can tell you that...

Lake flies are blown inland, to the torment of all land dwellers! 

In fact, I'm pretty certain that Lake Victoria's fly population aims for my town, Musoma. And that the majority congregate at my house.

Want evidence?

That is my house, which is painted WHITE. All those brown splotches are hordes of lake flies. Here's a close-up look:

Oh, they will all die, yes. But in the meantime we get to experience plague conditions. The tiny insects flutter in huge swarms, landing on anything or anyone they contact. If you have to walk outside, keep your lips tightly closed and try not to breathe too deeply. Squinting your eyes wouldn't hurt, either. Even taking these precautions, it's not exactly fun to feel the little bugs flying into your face.

Thank goodness they don't bite! Can you imagine?!

The house is not necessarily a refuge, either:

Those are piles of dead lake flies inside a bathroom window. The things are so tiny, they can (and will) fit through the smallest crack. And it's not like my house is super well sealed, anyway...

This shot was taken during the clean-up process:

lots and lots and LOTS of dead lake flies

I would like to say that this heap of dead bugs was the total accumulation from sweeping out all rooms of the house. I really wish I could say that. Sadly, I cannot; we were maybe halfway done at this point...

Besides, you can clean up all you like after the initial onslaught, but there will still be plenty of lake flies NOT dead yet. If you try to brush them off the walls while they're still alive, they smear. So you have to wait until they die and drop to the floor, all dry and sweep-able.

Did I mention that these tiny little insects actually have a smell? No, you wouldn't be able to smell one on its own. But when they're everywhere--yeah. Millions of bugs have their own special odor.

Fortunately, lake flies only swarm at certain times. I'm told they are indicators of coming rains, but the prediction method seems sketchy. Lake flies come... Maybe there will be rain very soon, maybe not... A good rainfall does remedy the bug problem, but more swarms can follow.

What can we do in the face of this plague? When my students came for lessons, they devised their own solutions for the dash across my yard:

Tirzah's plan to avoid getting lake flies in her eyes, nose, mouth, etc.

Assembly Adventures

Now that I've moved into my new house, I'm trying to get it furnished.  This is not as easy as you might think.  A lot of my furniture is being made piece by piece by a local carpenter.  He does nice work, but you never know how long it will take. 

Since my bedroom does not have closets, a wardrobe was high on my priority list.  I'm settling in, and I want to put my clothes away!  I decided to look at the pre-fabricated furniture available in town.  Apart from the time factor, I was not sure I wanted to draw up plans for something as complicated as a wardrobe.  That's how the carpenter works--you draw it, he builds it.

I actually found a wardrobe, and I enjoyed chatting with the lady shop owner... and anyone else in the shop at the time, who were naturally curious.  Their fascination increased when I declined to have someone come to my house to put the wardrobe together.  "How are you going to have it assembled?" they wanted to know.  "Oh, I'll do it myself," I replied.  This was evidently unheard-of.  They couldn't believe it.  Grinning, I convinced them I was serious, and they told me where to find the warehouse to pick up the long, flat boxes of parts.  (I was using a taxi for this trip, so the driver hired a porter with a big push cart to come along.)  The shop owner told me I could come back when I needed assembly help.

My house helper was equally surprised when I brought the pieces home and explained my intentions.  I didn't know what the big deal was.

It is true that pre-made furniture around here is not like what you get at home.  I was amused to see the instructions.  Here is the one and only page:

If you examine it, you'll find that although the different bolts are all given labels, the labels are not all to be found in the diagrams.  Another challenge I discovered was that many of the screw holes were missing.  I spent a lot of time in careful measurement, and a lot of elbow grease forcing in the screws with my cheap screwdriver.  A friend with a drill helped me with the doors.  (You might think this would be a good reason to have the shop guy do the assembly, but I can practically guarantee that he does not have a drill, either.)  When it was finally done, I was pretty proud of myself.

The next time my house helper came, she was full of admiration.  Admiration for the wardrobe--definitely a "rich" person's item--but also admiration for my skills.  She proclaimed me a fundi, the generic term for a craftsman or repairman, and later boasted to an actual fundi that I would do better work than he was doing... he was having trouble with a door handle.  (I protested, wanting to save face for the poor guy, and also not sure I wanted to tackle the problem now that he'd taken everything apart already.)

I'm wondering if all this astonishment stems from childhood differences.  I grew up playing with Legos.  From babyhood on, Western children get all sorts of toys that require fitting together and other types of spatial thinking.  Kids here don't have toys, period.  I see homemade toys, every now and then, but not many.  Maybe I shouldn't take for granted the ability to read and follow basic diagrams!

Getting Bills, Paying Bills

It's no fun to get utility bills, but it's worse to not get them.

This week I got my first electricity bill ever--when a guy came to cut off my power because I hadn't paid.  Fortunately, he gave me time to get things sorted.  Unfortnately, the bill he showed me was huge.  Even after I figured out it was probably genuine (not an automatic assumption)--several months' accumulation, when I thought it was being regularly paid through our office--it was still a shocker to find that electricity is at least twice as expensive as I thought.

I have received a couple water bills during my time here.  This is purely thanks to my neighbors who bring them over when they think of it.  (I wonder if the official deliverer even tries to bring bills to my house.  I work at home more often than not.)  This month's bill may be larger than normal, though--assuming I see it.  Last Friday the meter reader checked my water meter and then came to ask me if I had any broken pipes or leaking faucets.  After he left reassured, my guard apologized for his liberal use of the hose in filling the extensive termite holes under the house.  He said he thought I didn't have a meter.  (Is there an unlimited plan available?)

Both of these encounters naturally came right as I was trying to leave the house to go somewhere.  Also, the water meter guy gets the prize for the best mile-a-minute Swahili I've heard lately.

Meanwhile, I've actually received a cell phone bill--another near miracle, though it is starting to happen more frequently now.  Looking at the hefty charges, numerous fees, and the rate I'm paying for the priviledge of using this company, I'm wondering why this was supposed to be a good deal.  Think I'll go back to pre-paid scratch cards.

You just never know what you're being charged until several months down the road... when you finally see a bill!

Musoma by Bike

"So, are you going to get a car?"

That was one of the questions I was often asked when I moved to Musoma this summer. It's not a large town by any means, but common destinations are fairly spread out--along the undulating coast of Lake Victoria and around the airstrip smack in the middle of town. My job is to serve the families on our team, so I need to be able to get to their houses!

Coming to Tanzania, I hoped I would not have to use a car. Time spent in the country merely confirmed that hope into resolve. Car ownership is an expensive venture, intitially and continually, not to mention the hassle. My plan was to get a bicycle instead, calling on local taxi drivers when needed. How exactly to procure a bicycle was not immediately clear, but to my surprise, I was given one (a very nice one, too!) by my friends when they left the country last month.

Ready to go teach my students!

Now that I had a bike, the next thing to do was getting used to riding it places. This may not seem like much of a challenge, but consider that Musoma geography was still pretty fuzzy in my mind. (It's only slightly sharper now.) Then also, apart from a couple rides in Europe 6-7 years ago, I have not ridden a bicycle since childhood! ...an idea that is both incredulous and amusing to my friends from Holland.

My first attempt was a trip to their house. I use "attempt" intentionally. The way to the Kamphuises' place is fairly straigtforward, but I managed to get myself thoroughly lost. Ever notice how the same route "feels" different in a car than on foot? Distance takes on a different meaning, and you look at the road and its surroundings differently. (I even knew to expect disorientation, and I still got lost!) Musoma's not particularly hilly, but it's not flat either, and I repeatedly found myself getting off to walk, wheezing for breath, not too far from frustrated tears. I called André for directions at least three times; the more I wandered, the less I was able to recognize even known landmarks. Finally I made it to their house and collapsed into a chair in the shade. I had been cycling for an hour. I have since made the trip in less than thirty minutes.

Good to get that out of the way! At least I won't get lost on that route again.

My next venture (and now my most frequent ride) was to the home of one of the other families on our team. Twice a week I teach the Wimbush kids so Tara can work in the office. Their house is not far from where I'm living now, and Tara's husband, Mitchell, told me about a shortcut that cuts the corner of the main road, effectively avoiding a nice little hill. I found it, took it, and got to their house without turning around once--a major accomplishment, in my mind. On talking with them, I realized I could have taken the shortcut even farther. I had returned to the main road, but if I stayed on the trail, it would deposit me right at their gate.

So I determined to try it going home. Of course, the path forks a few times. I guessed correctly at first, but after one choice I became pretty sure I was no longer heading to the main road. I stopped to turn around and spied a teammate, Dusty Hill, talking with a guy outside this little house there in the middle of nowhere. I approached, tried to give appropriate greetings, and asked Dusty to point me towards the road. He stared at me, no less stunned than he would have been if a friend from the States had suddenly showed up in Musoma. I found it extremely funny. Anyway, with his friend's help, he directed me to the turn I should have taken, and I got home, no problem.

Now I take that shortcut (all the way) every Tuesday and Friday. It's really just a footpath most of the way. There are numerous ruts and a little water-filled gully I cross using stepping stones, so I just push the bike for a few sections. The last part is 10" wide, maximum, and in the mornings I usually meet lots of ladies walking single-file, balancing basins on their heads full of produce or fish to sell in the market. I greet them, giving the respectful salutation to anyone obviously older than me, and they find it quite entertaining.

After a month of making this trip regularly, I'm starting to think that people I pass along the way are getting used to me. They are quicker to greet me, smiling broadly, instead of (sometimes) being tongue-tied in astonishment. Every now and then someone will stop and ask where I'm going or where I've come from. Once a few ladies sitting with their children called to me as I passed their corner. One held up her little baby, instructing him to greet the foreigner. I smiled and spoke to him, and he took one look at me, howled, and squirmed to get as far away as his mother's arms would allow. We all laughed, and the mother came closer (still laughing), trying to convince her baby I was not dangerous.

It's an enjoyable ride. The scenery is especially nice along that narrow bit. On the one side are small farming plots stretching down towards the lake, with the peninsula in the distance.

Last note...

As of this week, I have now cycled into town itself simply to run errands. I stopped at a couple stores, bought what I needed, navigated the roundabout traffic (I forgot to mention it, but roads are shared by all--cars, motorcycles, bicycles, and pedestrians). All in all, I felt very proud of myself!

Market Trip

My friend and I went to the market here in Musoma to do our grocery shopping. There are a couple small supermarket stores that sell imported goods like cheese, but for normal things like flour and fruit (read: mangos, pineapple, passion fruit) the open-air soko is great. Less expensive and more fun.

I had my camera along on this trip, although I felt very shy about taking it out. We foreigners stand out enough, as it is! Imagine if someone started taking pictures inside Walmart--it's just weird. Add to that the realization that cameras here are luxury items very few possess. I figured that if I don't take pictures now, while I'm new, I never will. Spurred on by that thought, I swallowed my self-consciousness and asked permission from a couple vendors to snap a few photos. Here are some of the results.

This first picture shows stalls hugging the ends of the long aisles that make up the market. We bought eggs and a variety of produce from the stand in the foreground. Afterwards we threaded our way among the aisles (entering in the same place as the lady in black above); there you find yourself walking in bewteen long cement counters laid out with each seller's wares, about a square meter of space per vendor.

Out on the other side of the aisles. The market isn't only a place to buy food--brooms, baskets, and various other household wares are all available.

These ladies sell all sorts of grains, neatly displayed in conical mounds. We bought sugar, cornmeal, flour, and beans here.

Shopping here takes some getting used to, but it's nice. The vendors are friendly; they like you to greet them even if you're just passing by. Often times they will throw in an extra little gift! Everything runs on interpersonal relationship here.

I wanted to get a picture of the lady who sells me dagaa--the tiny little fish I feed to the cats. One whole aisle is usually filled with dagaa merchants, each with their mound of fish on the counter. This particular day most were sold out, so no photo. Perhaps I'll work up the courage again sometime!

My House

Where was I going to live once I got to Musoma?  When I first arrived in Tanzania the four months of language school looming ahead of me set such trivial questions on the back burner.  There was nothing I could do to figure it out, anyway.  Then one day I got an email from one of my future teammates, offering me her house while she is out of the country for seven months!  So I am enjoying the blessing of a furnished house, complete with night guards and a part-time housekeeper already in their routines.  The house is conveniently located near town; I should be able to get to most places I want to go by bicycle (once I find one to buy).

I took the above picture from the front gate by the road.  It's too hard to get a decent shot from inside the hedge, and anyway, the front of the house is fairly standard.  It's the view out the back that elicits a sigh of contentment...  That is Lake Victoria, second largest in the world, just on the other side of my backyard fence.  I keep some of the windows perpetually open, allowing the breeze to float through as well as the sound of the waves.

And yet another benefit: furry companions. :)  These are my charges for the time their owner is away.  (For those who wish to know, they are Betsy and Clive, from left to right.)  They are friendly kitties who love to be around people, following me from living room to bedroom and back again.  In addition, Betsy takes her hunting duties seriously and keeps the house as gecko-free as possible.

I hope to get better sunset shots in time, but here is one, just to say that the sky can be very pretty in the evenings even if the photography is poor. :)  The sun goes down to the left, over the peninsula.  I took this from the corner gate you can see in the other picture.  That's either a stork or pelican on the rock in the foreground, I forget.  (We get some giant storks here.)