Rainy Season and the Critters it Brings

I’ll have to continue with my holiday adventures later next time, cause the sound of the rain on my tin roof has been urging me to share the glory that is rainy season with you all evening. Before you read any further, go get a spoon. Not a teaspoon, but one of the big ones you might use to eat soup. I’ll tell you why later. Just do it.

So, weather in Tanzania- the Cliff Notes version. Or actually I should say my region of Tanzania- for a relatively small country, there’s a surprising amount of diversity in geography and weather patterns. But here in good old Manyara region (roughly central, north-ish of the country), the seasons essentially alternate between wet and dry. The rainy season is from roughly October to January, with a dry break from end of January through March, and then rainy again but with a bit more oomph from March till May. Then we get a windy dry season, from June till October, before starting over again. I know, the seasons here don’t have very creative names. But what they lack in that christening, they make up for in character.

Right now the rainy season has just started up again, which is….interesting. The wetness outside makes all sorts of critters find their way into my snug little house. There’s definitely more bugs around now and they seem to be bigger now; I'm reminded of these toys we had at the pre-school I used to work at that started off as little indiscriminately crinkled bits of sponge until you soaked them in water for about an hour and suddenly you had an army of giant dinosaurs. And there's mosquitoes now which suck (literally). There are more spiders too, though those don’t seem to bother me as much as they used to. I get lizards in my house all the time, even during dry season, but there’s more of those guys during rainy season too. Usually I just let them be and hope that they’re eating some of the bugs. Although I did come home one day in need of an after-school nap and found a lizard lying on my pillow enjoying the sunshine streaming through the window. That somehow seemed to cross a line, and he got scooted outside.

My least favorite is probably the scorpions. Aside from just looking really mean (which I hold as a completely ‘good-enough’ reason to not like them), they’re crazy fast. They’re not very big, which I thought was their one redeeming factor until a friend of mine pointed out that the smaller they are, the more toxic they generally are. Great. I’ve managed to avoid being stung so far, but there’s a fair number of them, so I feel like it’s just a matter of time.

I’ve also got bats. My house has a slanted tin room on the outside but a flat ceiling inside, and there’s a bunch of birds and bats that live in the triangle-shaped space in between. I can hear them rustling around above my ceiling and usually don’t mind too much as long as they keep the noise levels to a minimum after I go to sleep. But recently, the bats have started trespassing across our ceiling boundary and entering my domain. I’ve searched my house thoroughly and fruitlessly for holes in the ceiling and have decided that the existence of some sort of secret bat portal is the only possible explanation for how they’re getting in.

The first time one got in, he really freaked me out. I’d been sick that day and was all tucked in with the covers around me and my mosquito net around my bed by about 8pm. It’d been a long day of vomiting and diarrhea and I was thoroughly depleted. I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard a flutter of wings that sounded alarmingly close. Not sure if I’d dreamt the sound or not, I sat up, reached for my light, and see that there’s a bat hanging on my mosquito net less than a foot from where my head had just been, staring right at me. Naturally I begin to curse profusely. I knocked him off the net and manage to escape from my net to turn the overhead light on. He didn’t seem to like the light (or perhaps he took offense to the long string of explicatives still streaming from my mouth) cause he started flying around my room like crazy, running into walls, knocking things over and making his creepy shrill bat noises (which are way louder than you’d expect, btw). I had an empty bucket in my room (to use as a hospital bin, just in case), and I grabbed that thinking maybe I could trap him under it. As I approached him, he flew at me, grazing my arm and coming disturbingly close to my face, before continuing to fly around running into walls. By this point, I was convinced that he was either the stupidest bat ever (exactly how many times can you run into the same wall before figuring out that you’re not going to manage to fly through it?) or he was rabid.

So I try again to trap the bat and when that fails I start insulting him, telling him that he’s an idiot and that he’s gonna pay for his stupidity. As it turns out, I was all talk. He flies out of my bedroom and into my living room, and the warrior in me flings the door shut behind him- essentially giving him full reign of my house and trapping me inside my bedroom. Definitely not my proudest moment, but in my defense I had been super sick all day. Anyways, I take a few deep breaths, call a couple other volunteers for some much needed squealing induced empathy, and try to work up the courage to leave the safe haven of my bedroom and go face the little devil. But again, I fail and I end up crawling back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and try to convince myself that I’m not being a coward, but strategic. Bats are nocturnal, so when I go out in the morning, he’ll be sleeping and easy to capture. Or if not sleeping, at least weak from not eating all night. So I spent a troubled night of tossing and turning every time he decided to test the solid-ness of my walls again, but still managed to wake up the next morning very much rejuvenated and willing to take him on. I grabbed a broom handle to use as a weapon, slowly open my bedroom door, and creep out into the hallway. I search the entire house several times, but he is nowhere to be found. So I just assume that he must have used the same secret bat portal to let himself out, and go about my day trying not to think about it except to be glad that he’s gone.

Fast forward to that evening. Its about 8pm again, and I’m relaxing with a book on my bed. When guess who decides to finally show himself? Yes, my little flying friend decides to zoom down my hallway right past my open bedroom door and into my living room. For a moment, I’m just completely shocked that this is really happening again. But then I spring to action. I grab broom-handle-turned-bat-swatter, dash into the living room, and spy him hanging on my curtains. He starts flying around as I get close, so I swing at him as he’s in the air, make contact with a satisfying thud, and watch him fall to the floor. But he gets back up and flies directly at me screeching his bat battle cry so loudly that it makes my ears complain. I tell him how sorry he’s gonna be that he didn’t stay down, and follow it up with another swing that brings him to my feet. This time he doesn’t get up, but just kinda drags himself along the floor, continuing to make my ears reel with his high-pitched bat noises. I give him a couple more good whaps just to be safe (I’ve learned that you have to go in for the ‘double kill’ on this continent, after too many times of thinking that a bug or something was dead only to have it start coming towards me again), and then flip a bucket upside down over him, sit on it, and continue to trash talk him. At about which point I realize how much I’ve been talking to this bat, and think that perhaps another person would be a better conversationalist, so I call up the friends I’d phoned the previous night when I was freaking out to share my victory before scooping him up with the bucket and throwing his body outside to serve as a warning to other bats. Which turned out to not be effective – I’ve had a couple other bats use the secret bat portal into my house, but I’ve managed to either kill or chase them all outside (apparently not all bats are as dumb as this one was) with much less hassle and drama.

Even with bats and other critters in my house, overall I really like the rainy season. For one thing, it makes everything green and gorgeous. The whole region just comes to life and everywhere you look life just seems to be thriving. And it also means I can just put out buckets and collect rain water instead of having to haul water to my house. Water is heavy. And in a place where there’s no running water, having it essentially delivered to your door is pretty awesome. Though I really shouldn’t complain – I’ve got a tap on my school grounds, and a lot of people here walk literally miles to their water source. Plus rain water reminds me of Outkast, its just so fresh and so clean. Usually I have to boil my water to make it safe to drink, wait for it to cool, and then filter it to get the debris out. And then it still has salt in it, which means its neither thirst-quenching nor tasty. But rain water requires none of this hassle and is delicious. I think having lots of good water more than makes up for all the extra creepy-crawlies around.

And then of course there’s just the deep down comfort of days where I just curl up with a good book and a cup of tea, and fall asleep to the sound of the rain on the tin roof. Or the grand comedy of racing the thunder that warns of the coming storm to see how many buckets I can put outside before I'm thoroughly drenched to the bone. Or the humbling sense of awe of sitting on the porch with my neighbors to watch the lightning come in purple flashes or cartoon-style jagged lines to illuminate the little valley below us. You really can't beat that.

The internet gods have smiled upon me today, which means that I was able to upload a few photos...

The scorpions all around my house that I'm not a huge fan of.


Did you ever grab that soup spoon? Probably not...but in case you did, take a good look at it compare how big it to how big these bugs are.



One of the local homes- mud bricks supported by a wood frame with a thatch roof. I actually really like them cause they stay nice and cool inside.


The volcano that overlooks my village, Mt. Hanang.


Down by the lake, about a 10 min walk from my house :)




Alright folks, that all for today. And if I don't post again before then, have a happy Easter!


"I wonder what it's like to be the rainmaker"

Roast Turkey Entree with a Side of Thankful Musings

Yes, you read that title correctly. Yes, this post is about Thanksgiving. And, yes, I know that it’s now March. Criticism is welcome, although it should be known that it will be largely ignored.

Despite the fact that Thanksgiving is solely an American holiday, I managed to attend two different Thanksgiving celebrations this year in Tanzania. The first was held on actual Thanksgiving Day, at the home of some missionaries that live in Katesh town. There are a couple families from the same church in the US that have been in this area for many years, and they are just plain some of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Every holiday they have a big celebration and invite all the Peace Corps volunteers and other development workers in the region, and any other Americans that happen to find themselves away from the mother ship for the event. Since I had been moved into the region literally a matter of days before Thanksgiving, I hadn’t had a chance to meet the missionaries before showing up at their door on Turkey day with nothing but a litre of soda. Needless to say I was a bit apprehensive, but they were so incredibly warm and welcoming that turned out to be completely unwarranted. Stepping into their home was like being transported into a mini-America. The house was decorated in all harvest colors, and came complete with wonders such as a refrigerator (complete with an ice machine!), flat screen TV playing a clay-mation Rudolph Christmas special, and scented hand soap in the bathroom. There were men sitting around discussing the merits of their favorite NFL players, and little blonde-haired, blue-eyed kids running around with Buzz and Woody dolls. And there was a table complete with a cheese plate, deviled eggs, chips and dip, and a veggie platter full of novelties such as broccoli and celery (which are just about impossible to find in this country). None of this may seem particularly amazing to you, but imagine you’ve been in a world where none of these things exist for six months, and suddenly they become true marvels.

We all went around and said what we’re thankful for and I think that message really hit home for me this year, on several levels. First off, I’m extremely thankful to be surrounded by such awesome people here. My fellow volunteers are some of the most amazing people, and I’ve made some really close friends here. We support each other through this experience in such a huge way that I doubt most of us would have gotten this far without it. And then there’s people like the missionaries, who just kinda take you in, no questions asked, and offer you everything they have. That kind of hospitality just makes me pause in awe. And Tanzanians in general are extremely generous and welcoming, and I’ve literally been offered the shuka (a blanket worn as part of traditional Barabaig dress) off someone’s back.

So I’m thankful for not only being with such great people here, but also just for being here. Ordinarily we have just plain so much in the US, and being surrounded by people who have never known this excess, kinda just makes it all seem ridiculously silly. For the most part, Tanzanians live simply. Entertainment consists mostly of ‘piga story’ (sitting around and talking) with your neighbors while watching the kids and the roosters chase each other about. The food consists primarily of what each family can grow on their farm, and is cooked in a no-frills manner. Homes are simple and straight-forward, but perfectly sufficient. People have what they need, and not a lot extra. But all the other stuff is just that - extra. And this holiday, I found myself being thankful for not only coming from a place that does have so much extra, but also for having the opportunity to experience a lifestyle that doesn’t.

As well as of course all the delicious things we were about to eat, and my, did we have a great meal. The missionaries managed to cook up a feast that would have been epic in the US, much less in Tanzania where so many ingredients (like oh, say, turkey) are extremely difficult to come by. In true American style, we stuffed ourselves past the point of comfort, sat around feeling like we were going to pop for a while, and then proceeded on to coffee and dessert.

On to Thanksgiving celebration number two. The next day (Black Friday for those of you remaining fully submerged in the depths of American consumerism) I traveled back to Singida region to the village of my old sitemate (the Peace Corps volunteer closest to me, and thus almost by default one of my closest friends). She hosted a Thanksgiving celebration for about 20 volunteers, mainly from our training class, some of whom travelled over two days to get there. It was absolutely great to see so many good people again, and again the food was amazing. We shared the meal with a handful of Tanzanians from my friend’s village, who we can now proudly say have a solid understanding of a tribe of people called the Pilgrims. Oh and watching Tanzanians poke canned cranberry repeatedly to watch it jiggle is highly amusing. Score two points for cultural exchange.

We repeated the same process of stuffing ourselves silly, an intermission of swapping site stories and general catching up, and then a round of desserts complete with an African-flavored fruit salad and a special Alana twist cake, the thought of which still makes my mouth water. We rounded the evening out with a crate of beer, some guitar playing and sing-a-long, another crate, and some card games.

All in all, a great double-feature holiday.



“Like Snickers guaranteed to satisfy.”