One of the Best Birthdays. . . and it wasn’t even mine

Our frequent trips to Lugarawa have allowed Cara and I to make some friends, and more than just Conor.  We have had the privilege of meeting an Austrian nurse named Elizabeth, who works at the hospital in Lugarawa.  She will be in Africa for a year, until June of 2009.  She’s 27 and very sweet.  It just so happened that she and Cara share a birthday—November 25^th, which of course means, celebrate together.  We have also befriended the several priests that live in Lugarawa and when they found out about the shared birthday, they started planning with Mama Candita. We were told to come for a shuray on the 25^th!

We arrived a few days ahead of time and did some more cooking– this time we made a beautiful egg bake with spinach and risoto (an Italian rice dish that Elizabeth made).  On the 25th, the morning was spent cooking and we had the egg bake for brunch and a few hours later we were ushered into a Land Cruiser with Fr. Jordan at the wheel.  We’re not told where we are going, but we are accompanied by Mama Candida, another sister, an English student of Elizabeth’s and another man of the village.  Fr. Jordan says we’re just taking a tour of his “out-stations”- or smaller village parishes.  We’re on a pretty smooth road for Africa for most of this trip, but we suddenly turn onto the most harrowing looking road you’ve ever seen, with huge pot holes (an American mid-size car would have been stuck in seconds).  So, we go bumping along for about 20 minutes until we reach this land strip that divides a beautiful little lake and some wet lands.  We park the car, get out and see some local workers fishing, but also girls from around the priest’s house.  We get closer and see two crates of beer and soda in the water (African refrigeration) and a circle of logs surrounding a mat of leaves with hot pots sitting on top– we’re having a picnic!!  They’ve brought everything– plates, forks, rice, meat, spinach, ground nuts and puff pastry!  We eat and drink, with orders that no food or drink should be left.  It was a perfect day for a picnic, it was sunny with a nice little breeze off the lake.  Fr. Jordan said that he and a fellow priest actually built the lake– it was once just the wetlands until they built the land bridge so that the rain water could be collected. 

After we ate, then the craziness started– the sisters grabbed the empty Fanta bottles with forks, Fr. Ladislows grabbed an empty bucket and others took up tree branches and they started singing and dancing and playing on their instant instruments- the sisters, the priests, the local fishermen, and the men and girls who accompanied us.  African people are so musically and rhythmically inclined, it was amazing.  They took a break, but were clustered together planning, when they started singing and dancing again, bearing gifts for Cara and Elizabeth– locally made necklaces and kitangas.  When they had received their gifts, the singing and the dancing began again and they come toward me with the same gifts!  I was expecting nothing and here they are with a beautiful kitanga and necklace.  It was such a surprise!  I found out, during speech time– speeches are very important during parties like this– that I received gifts as well because I am donating books to the nursing school at Lugarawa, the microbiology and human anatomy books I found in the secondary school library.  So, we finished the beer and the soda, walked around the lake and jumped back in the car to head back.  The minute we get going, more singing commences– songs about Cara, Elizabeth and Me!  We are dancing in our seats, clapping with the sisters, knocking on the car windows to people walking past  and singing at the top of our lungs for the entire 40 minute drive back to Lugarawa.  It was amazing!

So, in terms of birthdays, I don’t even need one!  It has already been celebrated!!

Mbeya

Here in Tanzania, there are really only two seasons, the dry season and the rainy season.  The rainy season can begin in November or December, but doesn’t come to full force until late January until March.  So, during the rainy season, the dirt roads are basically mud puddles and it is dangerous to travel, so Cara and I are traveling now.

 

Our first trip outside of Imiliwaha and Lugarawa was to the city of Mbeya, which is north of Njombe and larger than our little city.  We meet up with Charlie, Ben, Anna, and Leonart in Njombe and took the trip up to Mbeya together.  To get there took about 3 hours.  We really had no plan once we got there—it was just another city to see.  We were also accompanied by a Br. Emmanuel from Hanga, who I believe lived there before becoming a monk.  We stayed at a Benedictine monk guest house, which was basically living in a palace, according to African standards.  The house was relatively new and of course the monks were unbelievably hospitable.  After eating lunch, we were ready to see the city, since we were able to arrive in the early afternoon.  Since the monk’s guest house is sort of on the outskirts of the city, we had to drive.  There was really only one vehicle available, which was a little pick up truck and we numbered 9, so we go African style—5 people inside the truck and 4 people sitting in the back end.  And let me tell you, we got starred at like you wouldn’t believe—6 total wazongo (white people) piled in a pick up truck. 

 

That first night, we just walked around this little city, which is large, but very spread out.  We made a poor shop keeper lady, scoop 9 ice cream cones, when she probably scooped and average of one a month for the past five years.  There are also many illegal DVD venders, which we stopped to see.  We got bombarded with local artists, who carry their store in a backpack.  I was finally able to pick up some African art, a little landscape made out of banana leaves.  We also came across this store of African stuff, where tourists usually go nuts for, which we did.  The owner of this shop was definitely a Bob Marly Jamaican, complete with knit African skull cap, long tunic with jeans and some pretty awesome dreadlocks.  We got our tourist splurge out of the way and were hungry. For dinner we found the most remarkable restaurant—a pizza and burger joint!!  The owner and his wife had lived in Canada for some time and knew exactly what sort of eatery to start for the tourists.  Grant it, it was not a Burger King or a Meister Burger, but it definitely tasted good!!  That night, we had a movie night!  Loving movies, this was just what I needed.  We sat down with good old Toy Story.

 

The second day, we went to the only real thing to see in Mbeya—the 8^th largest meteorite in the world.  So, we pile again into the pick-up truck (I couldn’t resist being in the back, it’s great feeling the wind in your hair as you’re flying down the road) and we drive and Hour and a Half to see a rock!  Yes, a large black rock in the middle of a forest, which we stayed to look at for a grand total of 20 minutes.  The ride itself was more exciting, but we now can say we’ve seen the 8^th largest meteorite in the world.  The rest of the day, we walked around the city again and ate out at a place that looked Mexican, but really only served a chicken curry and spaghetti.  And like everything else African, the meal took its merry little time.  I think we waited about an hour for our food, but we are slowly but surely learning extreme patience and to never expect things in a timely manner. We also came across a lot of wedding on Saturday.  You can always tell you are witnessing a wedding, at least in Mbeya, because you see a car decked out with ribbons and then there is a truck following with a live band inside, playing as they drive down and around the town—pretty cool. 

 

Our third day was Sunday, so we went to the cathedral for Mass and the priest was nice enough to tell us, in English, the main message of the sermon—which is a lot more than we usually get.  More walking around the town—the people got pretty use to us in the three days we were there.  The monks also drove us up to get a good view of the city, because Mbeya is sort of in a valley, with surrounding hills.  For lunch we found awesome restaurant number 2—we had been walking a lot and were sweaty, but we walked into the Mbeya hotel for lunch.  We were the only ones there and it was pretty fancy and the menu was huge!!  It included Milk Shakes, so we all ordered one—these took about 30 minutes to make and an additional hour for our order.  But it was worth it!!  It was Indian cuisine and was so good!

 

That basically ends our excursion to Mbeya—we traveled back with the usual chickens on the bus and made it safely back to Imiliwaha and ready to get back to work!!

 

Library Update

Just a small post on the library progress:  I first had to move about 20 huge, heavy, old sewing machines that had been there for the domestic school, about 15 sheets of sheet-rock and other random assortments of things that were crowded into the room.  Then with Cara and Charlie’s help, I was able to move two of the large book shelves to other corners of the room.  I have all the books organized into three sections: Textbooks, arranged by subject,  Classroom Reference, the books that are not Educational Institute of Tanzania registered, but could still be useful for classes (though I doubt that they will be used), and an Adult and Juvenile fiction and nonfiction.  I had them all place back on the shelves, and then decided to finish the bookshelves with some sandpaper and stain.  I have one more shelf to do, but in the mean time, I’ve started the time-consuming process of cataloging all the text books and labeling the Classroom reference and Pleasure reading books.  Let’s just say, you can’t really tell that it was the same place a few months ago.  The Head Mistress, I think is pretty pleased with my work.  I still plan to paint the walls with some sort of mural and to make entrance signs.  The next big task will be a seminar/orientation for the teachers and the students on how to use the new library with the simple catalog system that I’ve created.  I can only hope that they will understand and keep the library looking nice and taken care of even when I have left in May.  Most likely I’ll be the librarian every other day, because right now the students don’t use the library too much, but maybe that will change when they can actually find something.

 

Printing Press

I’ve mentioned the Printing Press many times throughout these blogs, but never have had the time to talk about it, so here it is.

The printing press is the largest workshop in Imiliwaha and is probably the busiest because it gets orders throughout the district of Njombe.  It is run by two plump little nuns, S. Manfrida and S. Karina.  S. Manfrida is quiet and sweet and can speak a little English.  She loves to give me free soda and has already presented me with some beautiful fabric for some clothes (She probably noticed that I live with only two skirts which are plain brown).  S. Karina is much more vocal and loves to speak Kiswahili to me thinking I should know enough to understand, so usually about once every two weeks she threatens to speak only Kiswahili to me until I begin to understand, but she always forgets by the next day and is back to talking English with me.  Besides the two sisters, there are five boys who help.  It is a little baffling that the boys take the easy, sit-down jobs while you will see the girls working at the Flour Mill or Fields.  Anyway, somedays it is a little awkward being around 5 boys who cannot speak English and being the only girl in the room, but they are all very sweet.  There are three especially who seem to enjoy my quiet company.  There is Barack who loves to mimic my supposedly high-pitched voice and always has a smile on his face when I come in to work.  He has listened to the radio far too much because when the power shuts off, he continues to recite the commercials perfectly and to sing.  Then there is Samuel, who I rather prefer to call “Lebeau” because he is very small for his age (which I’m guessing is around 20) (Dad, are you still watching Hogan for me??)  He always smiles to and when I walk by on my way to the lake he says hello.  Then there is Eziekl who would love to ask me questions about America and myself if only I spoke Kiswahili.  There was a worker a few weeks ago who was just home from high school and spoke very good English and Eziekl was asking questions like crazy because there was an interpreter.  Eziekl also loves to call out across the way “Mambo Vipi”  which is basically Hey!

My job at the press is not very exciting, but it helps.  Because the press looks like a something out of the movie Newsies, most things have to be done by hand– stamping numbers on invoices and shuffling papers together, cutting the paper to the appropriate size with this huge, hand crank paper cutter, etc.  Being just an every other day volunteer at the press, I do the menial jobs like shuffling papers together and counting stacks of 100, though I must brag a little and say that I am now the second fastest paper shuffler and the fastest paper counter of the printing press.  The Printing Press also repairs books from around the convent and area.  I wish I could do more in this area, but Samuel/LeBeau has it down to a science and does a really nice job– he’s sort of the head guy when the sisters aren’t around.   I have helped with the beginning processes of book repair which is taking a slightly damp cloth and going through each and every page and taking out all the dog-earred corners and curled edges.  The books usually being repaired are Bibles, so when I’m taking out creases I have usually over 1,000 pages to get through.  Being the book lover that I am, I don’t mind the time consuming process.  The book looks much better after I’m done with it.

There is always work to be done at the press, so I’m usually there every-other day in the afternoons for about 3 hours.  It’s sort of a relaxing end to the work day.

Planting Potatoes

I have finally gotten my hands on the gardens here in Imiliwaha thanks to S. Gertrude who works at the Flour Mill.  She is always so intent on me working with her.  Whenever she sees me in the Printing Press she says that I am better suited to the work at the Mill than the shuffling of papers at the press.  Though, there is more work at the Press than the Mill.

I was going to go to the library, but S. Gertrude caught me after church and said that she was planting potatoes that morning and I couldn’t resist saying yes to planting potatoes.  So I ran and put on my dirty clothes and even my apron, which S. Gertrude gave to me. (She is also intent on making me a sister– she thinks I’d make a good one, but I don’t think so).  We go to a storage part of the Mill and I find that the floor is covered in wood shavings and small potatoes.  It sort of looked like another planet.  Well, the small potatoes were the seed potatoes and many of them had roots coming out of the eyes– probably the best seed potatoes I’ve ever seen (maybe something to try in the next couple of years Dad!)  It took two hours to collect most of them into large woven baskets, which were then lifted by four of us onto a tractor that will head to the field.  During the two hours I had some local girls come and giggled at me, a white person on her kneels collecting seed potatoes– it is as if they don’t believe that white people can work.  Again, two hours just collecting seed potatoes!

S. Gertrude and I then walk to the field, which is down the road from the convent.  It is probably about 10 times larger than our family’s largest garden and it has been all prepared by hand with a hoe.  With the basekts having arrived, I take my apron and tie on knot in the bottom and fill it full of the seed potatoes and then I go down each row and drop one in, followed by a sister with some sort of fertilizer that goes into each hole with the seed.  One local man and two local women also help out, as well as a small army of local children who are armed with little buckets which the sisters fill up with seed potatoes because they want to help so badly.  Once the hole is full of everything a young local girl follows behind with a hoe and covers the seed.

I know this is not the most exciting news or event to happen in Africa, but when you think about the work that goes into planting potatoes and the time it takes– this is Africa in its fullest sense in my opinion.  Stopping for a few seconds and looking at the women in their bright kangas and head wraps and the sisters in their working habits and bright aprons, the one man who is holding a huge basket of seed potatoes on his back while going down the rows, and the small hoard of children with their pink and blue buckets among the dusty, red field and the sun– it feels to surreal, I’m in Africa and about 100 to 200 years in the past (I don’t even think they use cows and a plow to do these fields).  There are so many times when I have to remind myself that this isn’t a dream or a reinactment of some historical site, and that this is Africa.

Expanding a River by Hand

Again, I’m sorry it has been such a long time, Internet Nun is “learning” how to run Photoshop and it taking up all the time, so I’m in an internet cafe in Mbeya.

Since the last time I wrote I have been commissioned to be one of the “dam sisters”, which means that every evening I get to go down to the Lake and prepare the dam and the streams for the rainy season.  S. Viola and S. Petranila are the head of this project and the whole group is about five sisters total who are trying to rework an entire water way system by hand.  The first day I was on the job we were filling dirt bags to set against the side of a revene to keep it from washing away.  For 2 hours we were shoveling dirt/clay into small bags and then carrying them a distance to larger bags.  This task had to stop because we ran out of bags to fill.

The next couple of days we took it upon our small group of selves to expand the route of the river that will form when the rains come.  This involved one sister taking a  pick-axe to the dirt/clay while the other sisters and I went behind with shovels, moving the dirt up on the bank.  The dirt we are moving is not soft dirt or sand, but African red dirt that has been rained on during last years rainy season and dried to almost a rock consistancy during the dry season.  This makes the moving much more difficult and cumbersome and longer.

There is no money for machines to do this work and the sisters do not have the money to hire the local men to do this job or the means to feed them (which they require!)  So, we “strong women” as one of the sisters likes to say must do the work by hand.  Though we have had some nice help from boys who are just passing by, they give a few minutes of hard, intensive labor and then go on their way.  People in Africa are constantly telling me that life is hard, and it is, but then you have people help you out in ways Americans would never even consider.

 Needless to say I come back to our house every night needing a shower because I’m full of dust and sweat.  Though this is occassionally difficult when we don’t have water pressure or hot water.  I’ve had to take a few bucket baths which are never really that fun, but when you are expanding a soon-to-be river by hand you have to do what you have to do.

Meal Time

Cara and I have been here in Imiliwaha for almost two months and meal time is interesting.

We eat breakfast at 7:30AM, lunch at 1:00PM and dinner at 7:30PM.  We have this meal with Fr. Method, S. Jane and occasionally other sister who happen to pop in.  Cara and I are basically in charge of preparing for meals.  We usually get the food from the kitchen (everything is made on wood burning kitchen stoves) and bring it down to the priest’s dining room.  You would think in Africa that were would be a lack of food, or simply rice and beans everyday, but Imiliwaha is blessed with a fantastic cook and I think we’re spoiled because we’re guests even though we’re long term.  Meals are huge!!  There is usually rice, spinach, a tomato sauce, ugali (a play-dough type food made of wheat or maize), another vegetable ranging from cabbage, beets, squash, carrots, etc, and then there’s freshly butchered meat of some sort– beef or pork usually. 

We are also in charge of setting up the table for meals.  This is the tricky part because everyone seems to have their own sort of table setting.  Cara and I get the standard setting, the sisters prefer just a bowl and a spoon.  (For breakfast they like big cups for their tea)  And then there is Father.  According to S. Jane, the caretaker of the priest’s house, Father’s seat is never sat in unless the Bishop is visiting.  Father also has special eating ware.  He has a special plate for breakfast and tea– an ugly 80’s looking plate with feathers and a chipped, but flowery rose bowl for breakfast and dinner.  He has a huge rose cup and saucer for breakfast and tea and now, according to S. Jane, he has special silverware.  A fancy knife, a spoon with designs on it and a fork with just the right prong length.  (I’m beginning to think she is making up these rules as time goes on)  We finally, finally know how to set up Father’s place setting.  It has taken two months to learn!

During meal time most of the conversation is in Kiswahili or the local language and Cara and I have our own conversation.  Other days, Father is in an English mood and we get lectures in English or we (mostly Cara) tries to teach him cool, American English.  The table manners in Tanzania are what we would consider terrible.  Elbows are on the table, people talk with their mouths full, they talk on the phone during the course of the meal and belching is okay.  You can eat with your hands, taking whole pieces of chicken and just chew it off the bone for five minutes at a time, licking your fingers afterward.  So, I apologize if my table manners in returning to the states have gotten worse– but it’s sort of nice.

Well, that’s meal time!

Lugarawa, sort of Part III

Last post about Lugarawa.

As I mentioned in the last post, Lugarawa is surrounded by hills, well there is one hill in particular that is the highest and has a cross on top that you can just barely see in the day light.  Well, Cara and I wanted to climb to the top.  Easy enough, but there are multiple paths and supposedly you could get pretty lost and confused.  So, we just mention to Connor that we’re going up and that S. Candida had a student to go with us and show us the way.  Well, he said, no, he’ll go with us.  Oh! Great!

So early morning we get going, of course it is not as early as we wanted to, Connor was on African time and we consequently got him out of bed, we started our trek upward.  Now we could have taken the long way up or the short, steep way up.  We decide on the short way.  Well, it is steep!!  For an hour and 45 minutes we are going up.  Connor is tall, about 6 foot 2 inches and has huge strides.  Pretty soon I’m about 1/8 of a mile behind, which is fine.  I have to take my merry little pace or I am wasted.  We pass a couple cows along the way, hear some very loud bugs in trees and make our way up to the top. (Supposedly Connor’s football team RUNS up the hill– no thank you!)

It is absolutely gorgeous on top.  The wind in harsh, but it feels good because we’re just sweating like crazy.  So we sit and chat and contemplate for about an hour, happy to be at the top.  It was nice to be on mountains again.  It took us only 45 minutes to descend and it was definitely hot going down.

So, that’s sort of part III.  I’m done.  Though, we do plan to go to Lugarawa again during the course of our stay in Tanzania.

Lugarawa Part II

About a week and a half ago, Cara and I returned from our SECOND trip to Lugarawa in two weeks!  You’ve heard about how we get there, but the reason we went there in the first place was simply and ridiculously was to meet a boy.  Okay, now the here’s how we came to know this guy actually existed.  We had an Austrian volunteer here for a month working in the orphanage.  Well, one day she, during a normal conversation, asked Cara if she was married or had a boyfriend.  The answer to both was no, so then she mentioned that there was a “beautiful, blond boy from Alaska” (those were her exact words) working in Lugarawa and that we should go meet him.  Well, the day that she left, there happened to be a sister from Lugarawa and she said, yes, come visit and meet Connor (the name of the “beautiful, blond boy from Alaska”)  So, what do we do?  We catch a ride the lovely bus and go visit Connor. 

This was the first trip and we only spent three hours with the guy at dinner– he was very nice and friendly and we could have talked longer, but it was getting late and the electricity was going to go off.  Unfortunately we found out he is leaving to go back home in two weeks.  Just our luck– we find a friend here in the middle of Africa and he leaves!  But this explains the reason for our second trip.  We were invited by Connor and S. Candida to return for the farewell shuray (party).

So a week and a half later, we’re back in Lugarawa!  Now, Lugarawa is situated in a valley, so we are surrounded by hills.  The mornings are just glorious!  There is no cell phone network there and they have only three very very very slow computers with internet.  They have one of the few rural hospitals and dentists, so it’s a pretty busy little village.  There is a main street through town, with the parish church sitting a hill sort of looking over the village.  If you walk through the village and you’re white, you get about a hundred little children running out saying “Wazungu, Wazungu!” (“White People, White People!”)  You think they would be use to white people since there are many Europeans volunteering at the Hospital, but they don’t.  One day we had a whole group of children parading with us down the street. 

An African shuray is a little awkward, there is a head table where guests and the honorary people sit and then the locals sit in chairs in front of you as if they were watching a play or something.  For this shuray, it was a double good bye party because some of the German/Austrian volunteers were also leaving. Being guests, Cara and I were put at one of the head tables.  The nursing students and the lab tech students began the party with dancing.  Then, when finally everything was ready, we were served dinner with a choice of beer or soda.  So, while we’re beginning to eat, the local guests sit and stare at us until they are given their share of the food.  After we’re finished eating there are some speeches by the local priests thanking Connor and the volunteers for their service.  Then there is a parade of gift giving.  Everyone got a large package of groundnuts and a specially selected Kitanga, or large piece of material in which to make clothing.  After that there is a cake cutting ceremony.  Being presented with a cake is a big deal here in Tanzania.  There are special cake cutting songs and the cake must be cut and served during the song to the people for whom it’s for.

So, that happened to be the FIRST shuray.  Connor wanted a party just for himself and for his students and friends.  So guess who he employs to sort of help cook for this thing– us!  So in the morning, S. Candida tells us that we’re going to make the cake.  Okay, simple enough, just give me a recipe and I can whip up a cake in no time.  Well, there was no recipe, only a table with a basket of eggs, a bowl of flour, a cup of sugar, some baking powder, coco and a 2.5 gallon bucket to stir everything in.  So, thanks Bugga Margie and Mom for teaching me all the baking skills I know– they were put to good use, we simply started throwing ingrediants in the bucket until we had something that looked and tasted like batter.  We even wanted to be creative, so we made a marble cake with the coco and we placed the batter in a huge round pan and placed it in a wood burning kitchen stove– that was the scary part because we didn’t know what temperature it was at.  Eventually the cake was finished and of course I had to cut into it to make sure it was edible.  Thankfully, thankfully it was- though it lacked frosting.  The sisters said the marble swerls were decoration enough (they had never seen a marble cake before).  We were also sort of in charge of the meal.  Connor wanted Spaghetti and meatballs, so we go to his house and spend the morning chopping up vegetables for the sauce. (The new way to open tin cans is with a knife!!)  Cara was all over the meatballs (I’ve never made them before) So she worked with Connor’s Mama (his housekeeper, sort of guardian) and made some really good, deep fried meatballs.  The shuray was much like the other one, only there was more beer.  The meal was delicious if we do say so ourselves.  Connor came to his party in a male African “dress” complete with carved staff.  If he had a beard and a little longer hair he would have look like Moses coming down the hill with his dog in tow.  One of Connor’s gifts, from a local gentleman, was a plastic plant and a live chicken.  For me this was the highlight of the party.  This chicken said nothing the whole time and was placed in a backpack for safekeeping.  We heard from S. Candida later on that Connor let the dog kill the chicken and his Mama butchered it for his final meal in Lugarawa.

So, that is the beautiful, blond (not really- it was brown) boy from Alaska that we went to see in Lugarawa.  Sort of pathetic.

Tanzanian Transportation

I am currently sitting in the Lugarawa Internet Point, it being the
first time I’ve been further outside Imiliwaha and the surrounding
villages in exactly a month.  How I came to be here is another story
that I’ll probably write about in the next post, but I think how I got
here is more interesting.
From Imiliwaha, we had to have someone drive us to the bus stop about
5km away from the convent.  I almost hit my head on the top of the
jeep a couple times because the roads here are so full of dips and
pot-holes and the cars here rarely have functioning seatbelts.   Cara
and I are dropped off on the side of the road with a small bench.
Luckily there is a sister from Imiliwaha also waiting for a ride to
Njombe.  Also waiting are three women and two children.  All the
locals come up to us and greet us and attempt to talk to us, with the
sister interpreting (Cara and I are seriously planning on taking an
intensive Kiswahili course in Njombe come November– it would
defiantly enrich and improve our stay here)  Because we didn’t have
time for lunch we packed some bread and peanut butter that had been
donated to us from a visitor at Imiliwaha.  We had multiple people
come up and ask us what it was, for it seems like very few of them had
ever seen or tasted peanut butter.  We gave some to the children and
to an old man who really wanted to chat– they didn’t say much, but I
think the children were surprised by the stickiness of it.  This whole
experience took up a good chunk of time, but we still waited for over
an hour for the bus.  Here in Tanzania there really is no sense of
time, so you’re given a general time, which could be right on time, or
a few hours later.  Also while we waited, the women and children
hailed a truck that was taking some workers to a field near the women
and children’s destination, so the women in their long skirts and
their babies hoisted themselves over the tall tailgate of the truck,
seated themselves among the sacks of flour or grain and took off down
the road.  The sister also left us, hailing a small car already loaded
with people.  She took her small luggage and a bucket of potatoes,
threw them in the trunk and climbed in the backseat, making it four
people in the back.  They seem to have no complaint and even if there
is just a little bit of room in a vehicle, they’ll stuff as much as
they can into that space regardless of how comfortable or
uncomfortable it is.
Finally our bus came and there were sisters waiting to pick us up.
The bus, like the small car, was already packed with people, babies,
large sacks of food and luggage, but of course there was room for two
more people!  To get in we had to climb over a row of people and then
both of us sit in a seat made for one person.  There was a woman in
front of me using my legs as a back rest, for she was sitting on a
sack of flour.  Before we had gotten on she was holding her baby and
was seated in a regular seat, but Africans always make room for white
people (it seems like they think that white people cannot endure any
discomfort).  When we got on she simply handed her baby to a random
woman in the back who had her hands free without a care in the world.
On the bus, a baby is everyone’s baby and your squished neighbor is
your new found friend (unless you don’t speak Kiswahili– then they
just ignore you)  We were fine for quite a long while, there was a
nice breeze blowing through the windows keeping the drive rather cool.
Through the trip we made several stops along the way to drop people
off.  I had people climb/crawl over me several times and I had to help
lift two sacks of food out from under my seat.  I also help pass a
couple of babies and helped an old woman crawl to a seat behind me.
The driver and the ticket person seem to have no limit to how many
people or how large luggage can be that you happen to carry.  Near the
end of our trip we took on a huge box of food that was about twice the
size of a standard PC box!
The buses, or I should say, large vans are incredible vehicles!  There
are so many people in them and so much luggage, you would think that
climbing through the hills of southern Tanzania would be impossible.
At times I thought for sure that the bus was going to stall or over
heat or break down, leaving us to roll down the hills we had just
crept up, but it never faltered and we made it to Lugarawa safely in
one piece.  I thought the whole experience was great and I would do it
again, but there is a priest going past Imiliwaha this evening and he
offered a ride, so we’re taking it.
Next post– why the heck I was in Lugarawa in the first place.
Don’t worry Mom, it is nothing bad, just ridiculous!