Pictures from Uganda

Just a few pictures from the trip...

Sunset over Lake Victoria

The Nile River, in all its glory. Right before we're about to pass through the rapids.

In the 'mist' of it all.

We lost a couple along the way...

A quiet moment on the river.

Monkeys! These guys were everywhere.

Uganda, Part Mbili

And the saga continues....

That night, we spent the night on a tiny (like you could walk the circumference in about 15 minutes tiny) island in the middle of the Nile River. To get there, we took a little dugout canoe from the shore that was so old and rickety, I probably held my breath the whole way (which wasn’t that hard, since it was probably less than a five min trip). The island was super pretty and an awesome place to just relax after the adrenaline-high of rafting and soak in the gorgeous scenery. There was good food to eat, lots of hammocks and a volleyball net in the river to enjoy, and plenty of monkeys to watch when we needed entertainment. We spent most of the next day there before heading back to our original camp just in time to catch our sunset river cruise. Ok fine, I won’t sugar coat it- it was a booze cruise. And of course it was a blast- there was really good food (lots of appetizers, including several different kinds of bruschetta, and toooons of delicious barbequed meat), an open bar with good quality booze (don’t worry, we got our money’s worth), a friendly crew (the captain even let me drive the boat!) and of course beautiful sunset views of the river. The next morning we slept in and enjoyed one more good meal (English-style breakfast complete with cappuccino) overlooking the Nile before starting our long journey back to Tanzania.

This time there were five of us travelling over land/water (either people were more broke by the end of the trip, or our tales of how awesome a journey it was convinced them) and we got a bus back to Kampala. We couldn’t head back the same way we had come, because the Mwanza-Bukoba ferry only runs three times a week in each direction, and we want to sit around and wait for it for a couple days. So we went to the port to see what we could find and managed to convince the captain of a cargo ship to take us back to Mwanza directly. It wasn’t even that difficult- he was a nice guy (with one of those big, contagious laughs), and I’m always amazed how often people here are willing to help strangers on their journeys. We even managed to get exit stamps from Uganda from a tiny little immigration office right at the port. The ship was leaving in just a few hours, so we had just enough time to grab dinner and some supplies for our 22 hour sea voyage back to Tanzania. The captain gave us a room with bunk beds, and we made it a cozy little place where we slept, played cards, read aloud to each other, ate sandwiches from the supplies we’d bought, enjoyed homemade wine, took ridiculous photos, and just generally chilled out. We also wandered around the boat quite a bit, had a Titanic-style photo shoot on the bow, got a tour of the engine room from the ship’s second mate (I think that’s the term for the “vice-captain”…my nautical vocab is a bit rusty), and just marveled at the inability to see any hint of land in any direction for almost a full day and yet know that you’re not out on open ocean. When we pulled into the port at Mwanza, the captain told us we had to hide in our little cabin for a bit while he made sure that there weren’t any immigration officials around (insert bad Mexican joke here), but it was about 6pm so of course no one was working and we didn’t have any difficulties.

Upon arriving back in Tanzania, it felt a bit like coming home. Everything was familiar again and I’d actually kinda missed speaking Swahili. We had a nice dinner at a safi (literally means clean in Swahili, but also slang for really nice or fancy) restaurant overlooking Lake Victoria, got a room for the night, and were up early (like before dawn early- yuck) to catch a bus the next day. From Mwanza I headed to Morogoro where there was a new class of education volunteers in training. I planned and facilitated two PSDN sessions and six sessions on how to teach English in Tanzania to the new volunteers and stayed in Morogoro for about a week before finally heading home. I got back to my site the Monday that was officially the first day back to school (after the two week break), but it usually takes schools about a week to get going here anyways, so I didn’t even miss any teaching time. All in all, it was an amazing trip.


“I’ve got some friends, some that I hardly know, we’ve had some times – I wouldn’t trade for the world.”

Uganda, Part 1

Soo I thought I'd posted this part awhile ago but I guess either my internet or my memory crapped out on me. Either way, here it is.

Hello everyone! I know it’s been awhile since I’ve blogged but I was having some issues with my dongle (the little magic stick I plug into the USB port on my computer that somehow brings all the wonders of the internet to my little tiny African village) and its hard to blog without internet. How is everyone? Is the weather getting cooler or are you having Indian summer over there? I miss summer in California! I truly (and completely unbiased-ly) think that summer is at its absolute best in northern California. The hot days that just beg to be spent in an inner tube on the river. The warm nights that invite laid-back social gatherings that always seem to conclude with small-scale mischief. The fresh fruit everywhere, especially the scent of warm strawberries as you drive past fields and fields of the freshest, sweetest berries imaginable (I’ve been in serious strawberry withdrawal, if you can’t tell). The camping trips and barbeques. The smoothies and jello shots. The flip-flop tan lines and the smell of chlorine…

But enough, you don’t want to hear about what I miss; you want to hear about what I’ve been doing here. So since I’m teaching at a public school, our schedule follows pretty much a standard American school calendar (ie long breaks in the summer and winter), but the schedule was a bit different this year because Tanzania conducted a census. Why would a national census affect the school calendar you ask? Well that’s simple really - because the teachers are the ones that had to conduct it. Which makes sense if you think about it – teachers are government employees and are already stationed all around the country. And they have the skills to be able to count people, compile data, crunch numbers, fill out long government forms, etc. So my school closed for two weeks at the end of June for like a token break when we should have had our regularly scheduled break, then we opened up again for less than a month (which was kind of a joke), before closing for five more weeks for the national census (at which point, while all my fellow teachers were busy census-ing, I went gallivanting around the country). Needless to say, I kept pretty busy during both breaks. During the first break, I traveled up to Uganda with some friends (don’t worry, this was before the ebola outbreak) to the source of the Nile River. But let’s start at the beginning of that story….

So one fine weekend in June, I set out from my site to Katesh, the tiny town (more of a gas stop along the main highway, really) that’s closest to me for a weekend of debauchery. A class of health and environment volunteers was about to COS (close of service, or peace corps speak for being done with their two-year service and going back to the US) and there was a big going-away party for them called Goat Roast. Why was this going-away party called Goat Roast? Well, because we roasted a goat (we’re a cryptic bunch- I know). Goat meat is pretty common here. Goats are tough, hardy animals that will eat just about anything, making them easier to raise than cows. And, goats are also a lot smaller, so slaughtering one doesn’t lead to as much meat, an important consideration in a place where refrigeration is a rarity. So for this going away party, we decided to buy an entire goat (she was a cute little brown and white speckled thing that we named Dinner), dig a shallow pit in which to place charcoal, construct a makeshift spit, and have ourselves a little barbeque, Tanzanian-style. The goat spent the better part of the day roasting, and sending out some of the most delicious aromas, while we spent the better part of the day chilling, drinking, playing corn hole and Frisbee, and enjoying the company of other volunteers while they were still around. Needless to say, a good time was had by all.

The next day, we (myself and two other volunteers) started our long journey to Uganda. We got on a bus and spent about eight hours on a bus to get to Mwanza, a city on the southern shore of Lake Victoria. Long bus rides are such an integral part of travel in this country that eight hours doesn’t even seem like that long to me anymore. And with certain things like good friends as seat-mates, (instead of wailing infants, boxes of pooping chickens, grandmas that pee on the bus floor, sleezy guys that hit on you for hours on end, sacks of fish past their prime, drunk guys who puke into the wind…yes, all of which have happened), avocado sandwiches on leftover bread (aka bus picnic food), paved roads (well except for a relatively short piece that turned out to be a “short-cut”), decent scenery (complete with cotton –who would’ve thought cotton grows in eastern Africa?) and nice kondos who actually do their job, well then the long bus rides really aren’t that bad. So we got to Mwanza about 6pm or so, and had just enough time to buy tickets, grab some dinner, and enjoy the sunset view of the lake a bit before the next leg of our journey, which was the ferry across Lake Victoria.

For those geography buffs out there, you’ll know that Lake Victoria is the largest lake in Africa and the second largest fresh-water lake in the world (second to an only slightly bigger lake in Russia with a much more difficult to pronounce name). That’s cool for bragging rights and all, but when it comes to travel plans that necessitate crossing this giant lake, well, suddenly I wouldn’t have minded if it wasn’t quite as grand. We boarded the ferry at 6pm and arrived in Bukoba a town still on the Tanzanian shoreline of the lake) at about 8am the next day. For those of you who are proud products of the American public education system, that’s 14 hours. And we didn’t even cross the lake, so much as cut the corner (though admittedly a fairly sizable corner). The ferry actually wasn’t that bad – the boat was big enough that you didn’t feel the motion very much, and it wasn’t as jam-packed as most forms of transport in this country. We had arrived too late to get any of the higher class tickets, which consist of little rooms with bunk beds so people can sleep properly, but we had ‘second class-sitting’ seats, which basically just consisted of a room full of benches, but we were able to spread out and get some shut eye. Upon arriving in Bukoba, we’d originally planned to chill out for a bit and possibly get some real sleep, but we decided to power through instead. So we got on a dala (mini-vans that serve as public transport here) and headed to the border town, Mutukula, where we got visas, changed money, had some breakfast, and officially crossed into Uganda.

So what was Uganda like? Well I know a lot of times when travelling you can barely tell the difference between different countries, especially in border areas. This was not the case at all. Uganda’s certainly had its share of difficulties recently (war, corruption, high HIV rate, etc) but by what I saw, it seems to be doing alright (it's gotten a lot of international aid- who would've thought that'd be effective?). The population is generally better educated than in Tanzania, and English is widespread. Like really widespread – I’d forgotten how easy figuring out travel plans and making arrangements was in English. Another huge difference is the transport systems – mainly that there are guidelines governing it. In the matutas (the Ugandan version of dalas), there are actually limits on how many people can be in a car (which coincides with how many seats are in the car) and these limits are followed. This may seem logical, but in Tanzania this is far from true- I don’t think I’ve ever been in a dala where everyone had their own seat for the entire journey. People stand in the aisles, sit on buckets or other improvised seats, fit five people in a row that is meant for four, and so many other improvisations meant to cram as many people into one vehicle as possible (personal record – in a dala with 12 ‘seats’ as we would think of them in the America, we managed to fit 26 people). So not only does everyone get a seat in Ugandan vehicles, but it’s a plush comfy seat, as opposed to the metal frame always seemingly a day or two from collapse with a layer of ‘cush’ that ranges from absolutely none to almost not completely inadequate. So Uganda definitely has one up on Tanzania when it comes to transport. What else? Oh the food – the food is pretty good- more variety than in Tanzania, but with still some common ground that made it feel comfortingly familiar. And Ugandans have mastered something important that puzzles every Tanzanian I have posed the idea too – the concept of putting certain types of food in or on top of other types of food. You want some of the juice from the beans poured over your rice? Ridiculous. You want to wrap your eggs inside of your chapati (traditional breakfast food that’s kinda like Indian naan)? Preposterous. You want a shaker with holes that aren’t plugged so that you can sprinkle salt on top of your chipsi (French fries), instead of a pile of salt on the side so you can dip them into it? You must be mistaken. I’m not sure why this concept is so crazy to Tanzanians, but it is. Anyways, I digress.

So we crossed the border into Uganda and then got in a really nice car going to Kampala, the capital. I forget how long that leg of the trip was, but it was realllllly hot, so it seemed like forever. When we finally got to Kampala, it had just started pouring. Like pouring down in sheets. We were so hot by that point, we didn’t really mind that much. But we did have all our stuff, and no idea where we were or where we were going (our plan had just been to walk around the city till we found a cheap guesthouse). This plan actually still worked out pretty well – we found a decent place quickly enough, got a hot shower and a good meal, and by then it had stopped raining so we decided to go out and explore. Kampala is a pretty busy city – lots of traffic, lots of shopping, lots of people. We walked around for awhile to get a feel for the place, which I guess I’d judge as likable enough but without anything that makes is particularly awesome (though I guess that’s kinda how most really big African cities are in my opinion / experience). Or maybe I just wasn't there long enough (I was only there about two days). It did have some big shopping malls that are a nice breath of Western air after life in the vill. Anyways, so the three of us who had travelled over land, met up with the rest of our group – all nine of them who had flown into Kampala (those with bigger bank accounts than senses of adventure) before heading to Jinja, a city a few hours from Kampala situated on the source of the Nile River. Yes, that’s right folks – the Nile. As in the longest river in the world, with its origins down in the depths of Lake Victoria, its beginning in good ole Jinja, Uganda, and its end waaaaay up in Egypt, before finally meeting up with the Mediterranean.

So by the time we got into the camp where we were staying in Jinja it was about 8pm and all we wanted was a decent meal - which was promptly forthcoming. But because it was already dark, we didn’t realize how amazing the location was of where we were till the next day. So waking up and seeing it the next day was- well, it literally took my breath away. We were on a small cliff literally right on the water, with lush green foliage on either bank embedded in deep red soil, contrasting gorgeously with a perfect baby blue sky, and the deceptively lazy-looking river winding its way past us maybe a couple hundred feet or so below. Oh, and there were monkeys swinging in the trees right by our tent – how cool is that? I’m pretty sure it was the perfect beginning for a day of a white-water rafting on the river. Which was a blast. We hit about eight rapids, ranging from class 1 to class 5 (class 6 is the highest, but you aren’t permitted to do those in rafts-only kayaks, for which you need actual skills). The weather was good (we’d been afraid that it was going to rain, since it poured the night before after we got in), and the water was really nice – perfect temperature for swimming, which we did a lot of in between rapids when we got tired of paddling. My boat did pretty good (well, I guess in reality our guide did pretty good since all we did was whatever he told us to do), in that we never flipped over on a rapid, except for one time when the guide purposely flipped us (I think we were starting to get big heads and he wanted to set us straight). Not that we minded – like I said the water was perfect. When we reached the landing point, the rafting company had an awesome lunch and cold beers waiting for us (rafting works up an appetite), even though we’d had lot of snacks on the river (I probably ate half a pineapple by myself, they were so sweet).

....Sorry, this is turning out to be long, I'll have to give you the rest of the story later.

Celeb Writer

Mel has been bad at updating this thing (lazybones) so she asked me (Justin) to step-up and write one for her. I’ve been told that I can’t write anything that might “compromise” her standing with anyone who reads this. I’ll try to be on my best behavior. Before I start, I want to let you know when I write I tend to use parenthesis a lot to throw in my own thoughts or little details. Sorry I’m not sorry I do this. (I would like to apologize for not always keeping my tenses straight and my atrocious grammar though. And I teach English.)

What has Mel been up to for the past 4+ months? According to her, she hasn’t written about a BUNCH of things she’s done. Let’s see…

Well, her school caught on fire 3 times in less than 4 months and was forced to close for a period of time. An investigation was performed, a priest was brought in (not kidding) to... “cleanse” the school, and the pyro-maniac was eventually caught. BUT, because of all the fires and the inquisition that followed, the whole staff at her school was transferred and new ones were brought in. Mel wasn’t a big fan of this. Her counterpart (a Tanzanian teacher us volunteers select to work closely with on any projects we might create) left, the school cook (and Mel’s neighbor) left, everyone left… except the Mkuu (headmaster/principal). It was kind of like an entirely new school was being moved to her. But things have been slowly returning to normal. Her students are slowly but surely returning and she began teaching again.

She also never mentioned that she was selected to be part of PSDN (Peer Support and Diversity Network) here in Tanzania (I was also selected- there were 12 of us total). Basically, PSDN is a group of volunteers who can be called on to help other volunteers with ANY issue/problem/concern they have here in country. We were called to Dar es Salaam in… April, I think, to take part in a training. We had sessions on how to talk through a variety of issues that volunteers may have: from site issues, to alcohol/drugs, to sexual assault, and everything in between. It’s a pretty unique group of volunteers and we are totally confidential about what volunteers tell us, even to Peace Corps staff.

She spent her birthday (25! She’s old) in Morogoro at a training-of-trainers with a bunch of other volunteers, and judging from the call I got that night, it sounded like she had a good time.

She was part of a group of us who went to Uganda in June to go rafting on the Nile. (before the Ebola outbreak.) THAT was really cool. But apparently she wants to tell you about that one herself, so I’ll move on.

After Uganda, Mel headed back to Morogoro for the Pre-Service Training (PST) of a new class of education volunteers. She spent the next handful of weeks bouncing between PST and her site. If you ask me, it sounded like she was pretty busy, but she seems to like (really like) teaching English and meeting the new volunteers, so I think she enjoyed herself.

Umm… what else?

She hosted a new volunteer for Shadow Week. (New trainees visit a volunteer to see how they live, get a little better idea of what to expect at their site, and see how awesome travel in Tanzania is (sarcasm).) It sounds like she and her shadower got along really well: Mel and her cooked food together, explored a little, and had a pillow fight in their underwear. (No? I thought that’s what girls did when they were alone.) But that trainee was placed in the closest town to Mel and I’m sure they will become the best of friends by the time she leaves (awwww).

Aaaaafter that Mel was supposed to come visit me on Pemba (an island off the coast of Tanzania that’s part of the Zanzibar archipelago) for a little bit (we both had extended breaks from school), but the ferry she was supposed to take was shut-down (for “maintenance” I’m guessing, as there’s been 3 ferry sinkings in the last year….yeah, Tanzanian transport systems are awesome, I know). So I came to the mainland and we headed to her site for a little while. We didn’t do toooo much. Lots of sleeping in, cooking gooooood food, reading, and watching TV shows and movies. I did build her a dresser (glorified bookshelf) so she’s no longer living out of her suitcase. She seems really happy with it, and I’m just happy she’s not living like a nomad anymore.

After about a week at Mel’s, we went to a little town called Bagamoyo, just an hour or two north of Dar (where we had to go anyway for our MSC the following week). We met up with three other volunteers there who were also on break and also not in America at the time (‘cause it seemed like everyone else was visiting the states). Bagamoyo was pretty cool: a sleepy little beach town with only a few resorts, which was perfect because it was just touristy enough to have good/western food, but not too touristy to have the place overrun with tourists. We chilled on the beach, saw some old ruins from when the Sultan of Oman ran things here, went to a museum (the area’s got a loooooot of history to it), ate really good fish, saw some cool art, closed down several bars, and just generally had a good time. Oh, and we discovered that the ocean there is full of bioluminescent micro-organisms - so when you go swimming at night (the Indian Ocean is super warm), the water around you lights up as you move. Very cool.

We were in Bagamoyo for about four days before we had to head to Dar for MSC. If you ask me, the Mid-Service Conference (MSC) was kind of a waste of time, and an even bigger waste of money (I’m broke!). MSC was a week-long and consisted of medical appointments, dentist appointments, and a handful of sessions put on at the Peace Corps office regarding teaching, our second year of service, safety and security, blah blah blah. (Like I said, I didn’t get much out of it.) But it was great to be able to hang out with everyone from our training class again and get some non-Tanzanian food for a week (Shawarma, burgers, salads, iced coffee, sushi...soo many delicious things). After MSC, everyone from our class was still on break from school so we rented a bus to take us to a town in the southern highlands, Songea, for an annual volunteer party.

Songea Fest was a good time, even though it was only a day and a half long. There was a BBQ, dinner, drinks, a dance party, even a talent show. One night we rented out an entire club and filled it with nothing but Peace Corps volunteers – there were over 70 of us there….yeah, we just kinda took over the town. It was a nice town too- mountainous and green and generally likable. But once that was done we headed back to Mel’s site. (I had a week to kill before a conference I had to go to, and I was broke, so I went back to her site). The trip back to her site ssssssuuuuuckkkkeeeeedddd (imagine 4 days of travel, sitting on a sack of beans for 7 hours, kondos that were blatant liars, spending too much money, the “comforts” of a Tanzanian bus) but we eventually did make it there.

That visit was very much like the previous one: housework (for me), good food, TV and movies, sleeping in. I hung a couple shelves in her house, switched out a busted door-lock, and we made some improvised poutine (a Canadian treat!). All the things I built/hung/fixed in her house are things she claims she could/would have done on her own (yeah, ok) but just hasn't gotten to. It’s been super dry at her site (prime for snot-rockets), and the water from the pipe is kind of salty, so we made a lot of kool-aid too (she says ‘thanks Dad!’). Her school re-opened so she’s back to teaching now.

I think that about sums up the last 6 months of Mel’s life (probably not). You all can heckle her some more to actually write her own blog-posts a little more often, instead of farming it out. Hope this wasn’t too compromising for her. Take care, everyone.


“All the soldiers say ‘It'll be alright, we may make it through the war if we make it through the night.’”

Lessons in Improv

I believe it was Einstein who once said that ‘necessity was the mother of invention’ and if there is one lesson that I will learn during my time here, I would venture to say it is resourcefulness. The amount of things that I have seen improvised by my villagers is truly astounding. Don’t have a hammer and nails? These carefully selected stones will do the job. Have something stuck in your teeth but don’t have a toothpick? This large thorn will take care of it. Don’t have a level or straight edge to use for that table you’re constructing? Just place it in the shadow of your house. Don’t have paint or wallpaper but want to spruce up your house? Simply draw on the walls with ash and seal with a coat of bee’s wax. Don’t have the nuts or bolts you need to reattach that bus axle? This stick will do the trick.

Well, sometimes they might take the ‘mend and make do’ attitude a bit far for my liking. But overall, they are genius and I am completely their student. So far I have managed to improvise an oven, several door and window latches, a loufa, curtain rods, candle holders, a hanging fruit dish, a coffee maker and probably half a dozen other things that I can’t think of right now.

And armed with baked goods, a weekend hiding place from the early morning sun, and above all coffee, my life is greatly improved.


“It’s the little things and the joy they bring”

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.”

Ramblings about my new site

I’m just gonna pick up where I left off….so my new site’s not too shabby. The village is definitely bigger than my last one which is cool cause it means I can buy more things in the vill instead of having to haul them in from town. It’s definitely still got that village feel though, in that everyone knows everyone else, feeds each other’s kids, and gossips on a scale that would make American high schools look like nunneries.

The area is really pretty. I’m right at the base of Mt Hanang, which is Tanzania’s third highest peak and a (hopefully) dormant volcano. And the village is situated right next to a saltwater lake and some wetland-esque areas that I still haven’t properly explored yet. Bado kidogo. People tell me that you can’t swim in the lake with the rational ironically being that it’s too muddy that you’ll sink. This is usually accompanied by some wide-eyes and very serious head shaking. But I’ll probably still try once the weather warms up (its rainy season right now – more on that later). So yes, lake very scenic. And it means that getting water is no longer a huge problem like it was in Singida, in fact there’s a bomba (essentially a spicket like you’d have at a campsite) right on my school campus. Unfortunately the water is salty and not very fun to drink, but the locals swear I’ll get used to it. I’m skeptical about that one, but we’ll see.
Anyways, I’ve got a front porch from where I can see Mt Hanang in one direction (well, when it’s not trying to be all mysterious and hiding behind clouds, that is), the lake and wetlands in the opposite direction, and then nothing but lush green rolling hills everywhere else. Spoiled, no?

The people here are mainly from either the Barabaig or Iraqw tribes. Both still pretty much keep to their traditional lifestyle and the cultures are very….how can I describe it…colorful, to say the least. They’re pastoralists, so they raise livestock and are always herding them around in search of greener pastures, so to speak. I don’t think I’ve ever once travelled the 15km or so journey from my village to Katesh without having to wait for a herd of cattle or goats or sheep or donkeys to get out of the road. But hey there’s no rush when you’re on African time (did I mention those 15 km takes over an hour?). So yes, the people are pretty traditional, and because of this, it means a lot of them haven’t travelled very far from the village. And since I’m the first Peace Corps volunteer here, they pretty much have no idea what to make of me. I’ve got plenty of work ahead of me in terms of integrating into this community.

All in all, while I miss my old village and the people there, I find that there’s something irresistibly exciting about discovering a new place. Here goes nothing.
OH, I recently received two AMAZING packages! A huge thanks to my Uncle Carlo and Aunt Sandy and to my Dad for thinking of me and sending me lots of goodies.


“Everyone is just a stranger, but that’s the danger, in going my own way….Guess it’s the price I have to pay”

Ramblings about my lack of Rambling

My it has been forever since I’ve updated this thing. Pole sana! (Very sorry in Swahili). I hope everyone had a happy holiday season! So much has happened since I last wrote that it’s a bit overwhelming, and I’ll prob have to catch y’all up over several entries. So let’s dive in shall we?

Soo I think the first big piece of news is that I moved! Now usually I’m all about embracing new things, but I’ll admit that I was less than thrilled to receive the news that I’d be transferring sites. The reasons for this are (in true Tanzanian style) anything but simple, and could easily eat up all of my precious time at the internet café. The short version is that a new headmaster came to my school and he needed my house for himself and his family. The longer version involves some factors that have become known since Peace Corps placed me that make them (and me too if I force myself to think about it with my head and not my heart) want to keep me out of the situation. That’s not to say I didn’t kick and scream (in a mature and culturally appropriate way, of course) at the decision. Most of you know what a pain in the ass I can be. But it’s amazing how attached I’d become to my school and village after only two and a half months there.

So where am I now? It’s a village outside of Katesh, which is a teeny tiny town that’s only about an hour and a half drive north-east of Singida town. In the scheme of things, it’s really not that far. But a new village, a new set of students, a new local language, a new banking town, a new set of routines and norms to learn… it might as well be the other side of the country.
So it goes.


“I’m getting tired of starting again, somewhere new.”

So everyone seemed to really like the sunset photo. Y'all are a bunch of saps. Just so you know. But I still love you. So here's one more. As taken from my living room window.

Just a Quickie....

Time Flies like the Wind. Fruit Flies like Bananas. I love bad jokes. The worse the better. And I'm always looking for excuses to throw them into places where they're at best barely relevant. But I thought this one was because I've been at my site for over a month now, which is hard to believe.

Well, maybe not, now that I think about it. Things are definitely starting to become more routine. My students are adapting to my style of teaching (even if they do leave class most days thinking I'm crazy). My villagers are getting used to seeing a random mzungu (foreigner) walking around and no longer ask me if I'm lost or need help. And my insect population is learning it's limits (even though they still sometimes like to push them).

And I think I'm definitely getting used to things here too. The frantic bus rides aren't quite so hair-raising with a local mama or another teacher to chat with and distract you. The big classes aren't quite so intimidating when they're speckled with faces you recognize. The charcoal jiko (stove) isn't as impossible to conquer once you've swapped tips with other volunteers. And the insane maze that is the market doesn't seem quite as chaotic once you learn to look for the banana truck (a big rig literally full of nothing but bananas, that happens to be my new favorite landmark).

So I'd say all in all, I'm settling into life here. And it feels great.

Oh, and I'm getting calouses on my fingers from washing my clothes by hand. Physical proof that this is making me tougher!


"I can't complain but sometimes I still do""

Ramblings about hats, goats, bugs, etc

I’ve never been much of a hat-wearer. In fact, I think the only hats that I’ve ever owned have been the ones I bought just before or while living in upstate New York, in all of it’s freezing glory. But I’ve been wearing lots of different hats lately, and hats that I don't think I would've ever worn in the US.


Let’s see, so far hats I’ve worn include goat-herder (they wander onto our school grounds to nibble our delicate trees, so we chase them away and back to their respective owner’s general direction…which is actually harder than it sounds since our trees are incredibly tasty and goats are incredibly stubborn..I might have to look into obtaining a 'freakin goat rope'), window-latch-repairer (I managed to successfully put a halt to the constant blowing open and shut of one of my living room windows after a little bit of super glue and a lot of cursing), sign-language-interpreter (for all the times when my Swahili skills fail me, or for when my villagers talk to me in their tribal language, which I don’t understand at all), and computer-problem-solver (since skills such as how to re-name documents and create new folders are in short supply here). With any luck, I’ll also add fish-de-gutter (you can only buy fish whole here and you have to clean them yourself but they look so fresh and tasty that I think it’ll motivate me enough to be able to chop off their heads and pull out their insides) and amateur seamstress (or at least learn how to sew, as I think it’s just a smidge too far to send my mending back to Mommy…though don’t think I didn’t consider it). Oh, and painter! With any luck I’ll be painting the inside of my house within the next couple of weeks. Which sounds like fun (and I’m hoping that it doesn’t just sound that way because I’ve never done it before).


But the recently acquired hat that I think I’m perhaps most proud of is insect-genocide-instigator. Which was has also come with the amateur-bug-ologist hat (sidenote: I used to think I was reasonably intelligent and knew things such as what a person who studies bugs is called; I know realize this is not true and in fact simply knew how to use wikipedia). Before I moved in, my house had been empty for about six months, and as a result, it was absolutely filled with bugs. So I’ve summarized and categorized them here for your enjoyment. Laughing at my expense is highly encouraged.

Cockroaches - These buggers (pun very much intended) gross me out, but I’m coming to detest them less and less, as their slow nature makes them easy to kill. They’re also relatively predictable and like to hang out in the same areas and now that I’m cognizant of those places, they’re much less startling.
Squeemish Factor (on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 high): 7
Juiciness Factor (upon sudden death by designated bug-killing shoe): 5

Beetles, Flying – These guys can get pretty big (like the size of my thumb) and are pretty stupid (they have a habit of flying into walls repeatedly, as well as towards shoes trying to kill them), but their distinguishing feature by far is their loud crackling sound followed by intense gushiness (I’m talking a legit small puddle) upon meeting their maker.
Squeemish Factor: 6
Juiciness Factor: 10

Beetles, Crawling – These guys are slightly smaller than their flying cousins, but come with good-sized pinchers. Luckily they’re pretty slow, so I haevn’t found out how those pinchers effect people yet.
Squeemish Factor: 3
Juiciness Factor: 6

Crickets – These guys are mainly just annoying cause of the loud sound they make (not bad when they’re outside, but annoying when they’re inside), but can be kinda creepy when they jump. Especially onto your feet. Eesh.
Squeemish Factor: 5
Juiciness Factor: 4

Spiders, Daddy Long Legs – Just like in the states. I’ve been killing them (just so they don’t think they’re getting special treatment and get big heads…and I don’t want to get involved in any of the local insect politics), but I can feel my persecution of them starting to lose its fervor. Plus, they kinda remind me of home.
Squeemish Factor: 1
Juiciness Factor: 4

Spiders, Itty Bitties - If you couldn’t tell, this is my name for them, since they’re super tiny – like dime-sized. They’re pretty fast, but just not that big a deal.
Squeemish Factor: 2
Juiciness Factor: 5

Spiders, Beasts – Again, my name for them, and with good reason. These guys get BIG (like they average about the size of my palm) and are pretty meaty too. And I think as a result, they’re sturdier, because one good whap isn’t enough to do them in – they need at least two and sometimes three. And it’s not very easy to give them a good whap either, as they are crazy fast and they jump. Yes, jump. There was much squealing involved on my part (and none on the part of the spider) when I discovered this.
Squeemish Factor: 9
Juiciness Factor: 8

Wasps – I’ve had one of the other teachers at my school remove three wasp nests for me so far. These guys also get pretty big, and usually need two good whaps to kill ‘em. But I’ve gotten rid of most of them and haven’t gotten stung yet, so I really can’t complain.
Squeemish Factor: 7
Juiciness Factor: 5

Termites – Among my least favorite. They’re eating my house. And my furniture. And they leave their piles of sawdust and their trails everywhere. If anyone knows a home-remedy for getting rid of these fuckers, please let me know
Squeemish Factor: 6
Juiciness Factor: 2

Aliens – I’ll need to undergo further study of these guys, as so far I’ve only encountered a handful of them. But they are huge (like from the tip of my pinkie to my wrist in length, not exaggerating) and they literally look like something from another planet – freaky. Twice now I’ve spotted one, turned my back on it just long enough to grab a can of bug spray, and when I look back he’s not only clear on the other side of the room but has scampered halfway up the wall as well. So they’re either ridiculous fast, or they have short-range teleportation abilities. Right now my predictions are leaning towards the latter.
Squeemish Factor: 10
Juiciness Factor: 7

Buzz – Another name of my own invention. This guy is a total loner and has made a home for himself in the overhang right outside my back door. He makes this incredibly loud (like I can tell when he flies home from the other side of my house) buzzing sound and seems to keep himself very busy. I haven’t had the heart to kill him yet, partly because he’ technically outside and he hasn’t given me any trouble yet, and partly because it seems unfair since he’s been living there so much longer than me (my counterpart says he’s ‘known’ Buzz for at least six months now). But if he violates our tacit agreement (you stay outside and don’t bring any friends around and I won’t kill you), I might be forced to spray poison in your home while you’re out.
Squeemish Factor: 3
Juiciness Factor: Unknown

Jumbo Red Ants – The name pretty much says it all. There were tons of them at first, but since giving my house a good spray down, they haven’t given me much trouble and normally content themselves to eat the carcasses of other bugs that I kill and am too slow / lazy to sweep outside.
Squeemish Factor: 4
Juiciness Factor: 3


So that about covers the ones worth mentioning, or at least the one I can think of off the top of my head (I fully reserve the right to complain more about bugs at a later time). One bugs that I don't have any issues with is mosquitos - I don't think I've seen any at all in my village, which is awesome.

Oh, and I managed to figure out the deal with the post service in my new town. The post office here is run by this awesome group of mama's who are really enthusiastic about PC volunteers and happy to have us here. Which is really sweet because (among other things) it means I'll actually get whatever y'all want to mail me (as opposed to horror stories I've heard from other volunteers about things being stolen or packages never coming). Lucky me. So here's my new address:
PO Box 715
Singida, Tanzania
East Africa

Of course I'd love to get letters or pictures from everyone. Or if you want to send me something, I'd love to take up a new hobby, as I can tell I'm gonna have a lot of free time here. Boredom means complete lack of pickiness, so pick me out a new hat to wear.


"I'm standing shell-shocked but I'm still here"

Ramblings about My Site

Hello all! It feels like a very long time since I've written to you all. I'm at my site now (been here about two weeks) and have been busy setting things up, and learning my way around a new school and community, and cleaning my house, and about twenty million other things.

As I told you last time, I'm living in Singida region. The provincial capital is a town that is also conveniently named Singida. I'm in a little village that's about a two hour bus ride from town. Physically, we're actually not all that far from town, but the road is bad (meaning unpaved, super bumpy, and littered with sand pits) so it takes awhile. It's a rural area so the houses are really spread out (lots of room for farms, cows, goats, sheep, and what not), but the 'village center' is compacted into roughly two rows containing a handful of shops, a bar/restaurant, a tailor, a church, a mosque and a few other buildings that run some sort of business that can't be easily observed /my Swahili isn't good enough to grasp yet.

Then my school is about a 15 minute walk from the village center, along a path that probably gets treaded more frequently by animals than by people. It's a relatively small school, with only about 400 students spread across four years. But they're not evenly distributed, so there's about 120 students in form one (equivalent to freshmen year of high school), but only about 50 students in form four (equivalent to senior year of hs). And they aren't split up into different groups at all, so you teach all the students in a form at once. Which isn't too bad if you've got for three or four, but with forms one and two....well it's a challenge. The whole country's got a severe teacher shortage and my school's definitely been effected. We've got five teachers, including me. And each form studies nine subjects. So each teacher ends up wearing a lot of hats. I'm teaching English to all four forms, and will probably add a form or two of math when we start the new school year in January (the school year follows the calendar year here, which makes so much sense) and I'm slightly less clueless about everything.

And finally my house! I'm livng at the school, which is what all the teachers at the school, and most in Tanzania, do. Since there is a teacher shortage, the government pumps out new teachers (usually young, single men/women) and then assigns them to different schools across the country. And it's a lot easier for them to pick up and move to a new school if there's teacher housing there waiting for them. I've got a pretty big living room, and three bedrooms. Then I've also got my own enclosed courtyard, off of which is a choo (squat toilet), and outdoor bathing room, kitchen, and storage room. So plenty of space. The house has concrete walls and floors and a tin roof, which makes cool noises when the wind picks up (it's really windy here). There's no electricity or running water in my house, or the village for that matter. I have water delivered by a guy with an oxen cart (like Oregon Trail!) and use lights that run on batteries (which are called 'Chinese lights') at night. The house was completely empty except for a bed and a table when I arrived, so it felt kinda barren. But it's slowly starting to feel more homey as I get more and more settled in.

On an unrelated note, I touched a dead lion. It was eating people's cows so the authorities shot it. And then I convinced the men with large guns to let the amazed white person touch it. It's paws were as big as my head. No joke.

Ok, well I'm sick of writing, wihch probably means that you are sick of reading. Stay tuned for next time, where I'll probably devote a considerable amount of time to the subject you've all been waiting to hear me complain about: bugs. Though I think more meaning is conveyed by the word in Swahili - mdudu. Till then.


"I ain't in it for the glory of anything at all, and I sure ain't in it for the wealth. But I'm in it till it's over and I just can't stop..."

Ramblings about Swearing In

Today was our swearing-in ceremony, which means I am now officially a Peace Corps volunteer. Eek! This morning we had a ceremony at the ambassador’s home with all of the PC Tanzania training staff all of our heads of school, and some representatives from the Tanzanian education department, among others. Our heads of school (or principals, essentially) arrived in Dar a few days ago and have had training session with Peace Corps to prepare them for working with foreigners who are sure to do odd things, and to escort us back to our respective schools (which is nice, since I’ve got tons of luggage).


I met my headmaster yesterday. I think our conversation, more than anything else, really made it sink in that this is real. He seems like a good guy, kinda has a fatherly feel about him. Of course I had about a million questions for him about the school and the community, and he sat there and patiently answered them all without any hint of complaint. And every other comment out of his mouth must have been about how excited he is to have me, and how excited the students are, and the village in general. The school has about 400 students across four grades. I’ll be the sixth teacher, and the only English teacher. So it’s definitely a school that’s got a real need for a volunteer, and I’ve been telling myself that it’s just all that much more of an opportunity to make a difference. The region I’m going to is called Singida, and it’s kinda I the middle / northern middle-ish part of the country. It’s been described to me as being like ‘the wild west’ of Tanzania….I’ll let you know what that means once I find out myself. We’ll leave tomorrow at a ridiculously early hour and still have to spend the night in town before continuing on to my village the next day.


Ok, so here's a couple of pictures - of people this time since I haven't done any of those yet. The first one is of me and my Swahili teacher. I chopped my hair, remember? She's an amazing teacher and I owe her about a million thanks for getting me to the point I'm at now. The second one is of my homestay family, who I said good-bye to a few days ago.






Ok, well this will have to suffice – I’ve got a celebration to run off to :)


“The times, they are a'changing"

Ramblings about Shadow

For Plato, shadows of things were what we see in the world all around us, instead of the real things themselves. For Winnie the Pooh, a shadow was a close friend who never left your side. And for Peter Pan, a shadow was a pesky rebel who was constantly trying to escape to freedom. In Peace Corps lingo, a shadow might be considered all of the above.

Last week was shadow week, during which all of us Peace Corps trainees travelled to different parts of the country to stay with a current volunteer for a week. I shadowed a volunteer in the Tanga region, which is the north-east corner of the country. Me and one other trainee (we go two by two, like Noah’s ark), stayed at the volunteer’s house which was right next to the school where she teaches.
The idea behind shadow week is that one of the best ways to prepare to be a volunteer is spending time with a real volunteer and seeing what it’s really like. And I think it definitely accomplished that. I found out that my Swahili is good enough / random strangers are nice enough that using the Tanzanian transport system for long distances (as opposed to being shuttled about in PC vehicles) isn’t too scary. I got to see her teach a math class of 80 form three students (which translates to roughly junior year of high school) in a combo of Swahili and English. Several times she had to stop because the sound of the rain on the tin roof (it’s winter here) drowned out her voice. And several more times she had to pause to chase a goat out of her classroom who apparently really felt the need to learn about geometric sequences.

Monday August 8th was a holiday here - nane nane, which means eight eight. As far as I can tell, the government just went ‘Wow, that’s a cool date, let’s make it a holiday. We’ll celebrate labor or something’. We also got July 7th off for saba saba, which means (you guessed it) seven seven. It doesn’t happen every month…though I wouldn’t complain if it did. So since there was no school, we spent the entire day in the volunteer’s banking town, which is just the closest town that’s big enough to have necessities like a bank and a post office. We did some shopping, and it was really nice to just walk around a new town Oh, and we went to the spice market, which was amazing. Picture a maze of little stalls, each with a make-shift table covered in large piles of different colored spices emitting every fragrance imaginable. And the vendors...about a third of them are shouting the prices for their goods in frenzied Swahili approximately twelve times the normal speaking rate, about a third of them are haggling with customers or raking their spice piles to coax their fragrances out a bit stronger, and about a third of them have just succumbed to the afternoon heat and are dozing on hammocks or empty spice sacks. All in all, pretty cool.

So Monday we spent in town, and Tuesday through Thursday we spent in the village observing classes, watching Seinfeld, supervising the weekly rag-tag bunch of kids that comprises the coloring group (which rivaled Seinfeld in terms of entertainment value), visiting with random villagers who all seemed to want to feed me, and soaking in the stunning surrounding scenery.

Then Friday after school, we headed into the city of Tanga, which is right on the coast and has the accompanying laid-back feel of so many coastal cities. We had some amazing Indian food at this cute little restaurant that was literally built on a dock overlooking the Indian Ocean. We had to kill some time before we could order food (it's Ramadan right now, and many restaurants won't start taking orders until after sundown), so we just ordered a couple of beers, chatted and watched the sunset. Definitely a night for the win category. The next day, we walked around the city for a bit in the morning, had a great breakfast of just fresh tropical fruits, and then headed to the beach for the afternoon. The water was unbelievably warm and super clear. After a delicious picnic lunch on the beach, I taught some impromptu swim lessons to a couple of local girls in broken Swahili. We all giggled plenty at the roundabout way I had to say things in order to express my directions, but it still felt good. There’s something about swimming in the ocean that’s just both incredibly invigorating and relaxing at the same time. And it was especially great to stock up on all those good ocean-y vibes, since the next day we had to make the trip back to Morogoro and the intensity of training. The bus ride was only five hours (short by Tanzanian standards - one of the shortest ones of my training group) but with all the chaos that comes with the trip…well, let’s just say that I slept well that night.

Shadow was a great opportunity to get an idea of what my life will be like once I get to site (in less than two weeks!), while still trying to keep in mind that every site is unique and that my experience at mine will be in large part whatever I make it. Not quite the real thing, but close. It also let me really solidify friendships with a couple of other volunteers and trainees, which was especially cool since they were all people who were really different from me, while getting out of town and getting a chance to see another part of the country. Plus, it was a blast. So did I hit all three of my inspirational characters…I think so.
I had a request for a sunset photo, so here’s one of those from our dinner on the coast.




Oh and a quick note. I love it when you leave me comments. A lot. I will probably love them even more if I know who they are from as so far I’ve gotten lots of anonymous ones, and unfortunately my sleuthing skills stop just short of being able to figure it out on my own. So just add your name after your comment (you can just do it in the same little comment box, you don’t need to create a profile or anything), and double my fun.

Ok, well my final oral Swahili exam is tomorrow so perhaps I should go study for that instead of….oh, let me give you something in Swahili. Let’s up the anty a little and go with a phrase instead of just a word today - ‘ninafitini’ means I am making mischief. Fun, no?

“The beach gives a feeling, an earthy feeling, I believe in the faith that grows”

Ramblings about Training

My time in Tanzania seems to have been flying by lately. I have to take my malaria medication once a week, which makes keeping track of how long I’ve been in country conveniently simple. The first two weeks or so of training it seemed that Mef day (also known as Wednesday for those of you who don’t take a brand of medication with a long confusing name that gets shortened to Mef once a week on Wednesdays like I do) or that post-Mef days (also known as Thursday and Friday, but more awesome cause it means that us trainees get to swap ridiculous stories of extremely vivid mef-induced dreams) would never come. But now it seems that my boxes of pills just fly by. And indeed, my training is almost over. This week was my last of a month of internship teaching at a local secondary school. The school had a little farewell assembly yesterday which was really nice. And apparently a month is long enough to get attached to a group of students, cause even though I was only teaching three days a week I’m definitely going to miss some of them.

And while I’m being all mushy, I might as well mention my host family – who I’ve gotten really attached to. I’ve been staying with a family that consists of a mom and dad, an eleven year old sister (Esta) and an eight year old brother (Paulo). They’re good people. Like, good in just about any way I can think of that the term ‘good’ is applicable. And now that I’ve got enough Swahili down to actually be able to understand what they’re saying, I’ve realized that they’re also absolutely hilarious. And it’s such a natural way of learning about the culture that it almost barely even feels foreign. Like I remember my last couple days in the US, I had a hard time (read: completely stressed and over-analyzed) trying to figure out what type of clothing I should pack knowing that I was going to a country that was both very hot and very conservative. Now, my standard is just to ask myself if my host brother is going to tease me, or if my host mama is going to raise an eyebrow if I leave the house wearing this. Infinitely easier for me and far more accurate. I feel very lucky to have been placed in a homestay where I feel so comfortable.

So yes, training has been overall busy but enjoyable. And now it’s almost done. This Sunday I’ll travel to the northeast corner of the country for ‘shadow’ – basically I stay with a current volunteer at their site for a week to see how things get done for real. I’m pretty excited. Then once I get back, I’m only at my homestay for one more week. After that, I’ll spend a couple days in Dar before our swearing ceremony, which is when I officially become a Peace Corps volunteer (right now, I’m just at lowly ‘trainee’ status). And then after swearing in I’ll head off to my site. For the next two years - eek!

Ok, this will have to suffice for now. There’s always so much that I want to tell you guys about, and so little time. Oh, let me give you a Swahili word (I think I’m gonna try and do one per blog entry – thoughts?) and then wrap this up. Shagala bagala means messy or untidy and is useful for describing both states of mind as well as our kitchen after the chickens complete their morning scramble through it on their way to last night’s food scraps. On an only slightly related note, we ate the rooster that was waking me up every morning. He was delicious (sorry veggie friends, but a girl needs her beauty sleep).

Oh, and for those of you who doubted that I’m actually in Africa and are secretly harboring suspicions that I’ve just decided to be extremely anti-social for two years, well here’s a picture of lions. One’s eating a giraffe they just killed while the other one guards their meal from mischievous American onlookers. Really guys, Africa.

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“Speak to me in foreign tongues, and share your secrets one by one”

So Far, So Good

I've now been in Tanzania for over two weeks, and I still don't think it's really hit me yet that I'm here long-term. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that training has been really intense.

I wake up every day to the sound of roosters - which was really cool at first, but now I just wish they had snooze buttons. They do not. We have training sessions six days a week, usually from 8am to 5pm. There's sessions on all sorts of things - lots of Swahili lessons (fun word: pipi means candy), but also input on teacher training, cross-cultural trainings (ie; don't sniff food when eating as its an insult to the chef), medical sessions (ie; malaria nets are your friends), and safety and security sessions (mainly common sense and a good time to go through swahili flashcards). After sessions all day, I spend about an hour walking /navigating the public transport system (I use the term loosely - more on that later) to get back to my host family. Then I'll either help my host mama cook (outside over a pile of charcoal bricks), play card games with my host sister and brother (I taught them Egyptian war - which they love), or if I'm feeling ambitious, language homework. After dinner, we'll all usually sit around the dinner table and I'll attempt to communicate in my broken Swahili. Miming, repetition and odd sound effects have become a mainstay of most of my conversations here. My host family doesn't speak any English, which I was hoping would mean my language skills would improve really fast. So far, the main improvement I've seen has been in my acting skills. I joke, but in reality my Swahili is coming along nicely - it's the fastest I've ever learned a language. The Peace Corps language training program is top notch.

So that's what I've been doing....I guess I should give a bit of attention to the question you're probably all wondering - how is Tanzania? The short answer is so far, so good. The people are warm and friendly and generally willing to be patient and helpful as I slaughter their language. Well, either that or they'll just laugh at me. But that's to be expected.

The city I'm in now is a regional capital and is nestled at the base of these rally gorgeous mountains that always seem to have clouds covering the tops of them. I'm going hiking up there tomorrow (yey!) The family I'm staying with lives in a village outside the city. I say 'village' without knowing exactly what that means, but that's what my family refers to it as, so it's the the word I'll go with. Regardless, it definitely has a 'village' feel. Everyone seem to know each other and greets each other in the streets. Chickens and goats roam about, in between kids playing soccer in empty fields and women in brightly colored fabrics carrying water on their heads. My family lives in a house built from cement with a tin roof - which sounds awesome when it rains. There's no running water or electricity, though there are some families that have those. Next week I start teaching at a secondary school in the community where my family lives as part of training. I'll only be there for about a month, but I'm excited to get back into a classroom and finally be working with Tanzanian students.

My time at the internet cafe always seems to go by very quickly, so this will have to suffice for now. OH, if anyone wants a postcards from Tanzania, you should let me know (just leave a comment below) and I'll make that happen. On the flip side, if anyone feels compelled to mail me anything, here's the address:
Melinda Cobian, PC Trainee
Peace Corps Tanzania
PO Box 9123
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

So this post got written about 2 weeks ago, but the power went out while I was at the internet cafe and I haven't been able to get back since. Lucky for me, blogger saved all this for me :)

I almost forgot to mention - I chopped my hair off, it's super short like I had it in high school. Sorry Jess. But Africa is really hot, and the nightly bucket bath is infinitely easier this way. Thanks for the fb love Erika - it totally reminded me that I used to have long hair. And that I have amazing family and friends.


"Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes that call me on and on..."

On My Way

Now you’re all very important to me, but I’ll admit that I’m writing this mainly to keep myself entertained on my first of many long flights. Currently, I’m on my way to Amsterdam, where I’m hoping that the airport will have free wireless so that I can upload this. Once in Amsterdam (only another 2 hours!) we’ll have about an hour layover before catching our flight to the city of Kilimanjaro – a nearly 11 hour trip. Jeesh. Then another precious hour of being able to use the lower half of my body, before one final flight to Dar Es Salaam, the largest city in Tanzania.

I’ve spent the last two-ish days in Philadelphia for pre-departure orientation. The orientation agenda consisted of lots of paperwork, some sessions on expectations and guidelines, and lots of talk about safety and security while in country. Sounds pretty boring, I know, but it was really more an opportunity for my training class to group up and get to know each other than anything. We’ll spend three months together in training, which according to many returned Peace Corps volunteers is the most arduous piece of service.

My training class is amazing. For real. There’s about 40 of us, and it seems one person is more interesting than the next. One girl recently completed a masters in computer science at a competitive university, and then became a competitive belly-dancer. Another has spent the last several months biking across the county, with ukulele in tow. Other have been working with Somalian refugees, overseeing construction on schools in Ghana, and working for senators. There’s another Cornell grad (!!) and my roommate just happened to be from Elk Grove. We’re an incredibly diverse group in terms of age and ethnicity, and we come from all across the US. And yet, for all our diversity and varied experiences, we all have so much in common. Everyone is anxious about learning Swahili, and taking malaria pills, and the lack of communication with home, and being eaten by lions, trampled by wilderbeast, rammed by rhinos and all the same things. Knowing that you’re not alone in your anxieties has been such a huge comfort. But even better is that everyone has the same spirit that made them join in the first place. We all truly want to improve the quality of life for the people we work with, and believe that’s worth giving up some comforts like facebook and Starbucks. And cable and hot showers. And reliable transportation and familiar food. But I digress.

It’s possible that we’re all just a bunch of naïvely optimistic fools that have no idea what we’ve gotten ourselves in to. I’d even be willing to swap out possible for probable. But the palpable energy that shoots through the air wherever we congregate, and the instantly recognizable look in all of our eyes just completely take me in. I feel extremely lucky to be surrounded by such an incredible group of people. And knowing that we’re all there for each other, knowing that we’ll all share the tough times and the rewarding times of service, knowing that I’ve got 40 people I can legitimately call friends after only two days, well, that all goes down in the major win category of my book.

Let’s just say that if I wasn’t completely sold on doing this before I left Sac, I’m definitely all in now.


"Yeah it’s overwhelming, but what else can we do? Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?"

Less than two months!

As many of you know, I've wanted to join the Peace Corps for a long time. But now that it's actually happening I can scarcely believe that in less than two months I'll be on a plane headed for Africa, with a return ticket set for more than 27 months later. What awaits me while I'm there....well, I won't pretend to know now, that would ruin the fun. I think that the only things I'm certain of are that it will be new and it will be hard. Incidentally, those things are nearly my entire motivation for going as well.

So loved ones, laugh at my mistakes with me as I try to learn Kiswahili. Join me in "awww" moments as I connect with my students. Marvel at the beauty of the country and the richness of the culture. But most importantly, keep in touch. I'll miss you all more than you can know.