evening with the boys

One of my favorite days in Sepuka during these first few weeks is the one where my (only) friends discovered I had a camera and took me on an incredible adventure, in my back yard. I should mention that this particular group of friends consist entirely of 13-16 year old boys….

I had just gotten back from a trip to town with Elli, my 16 year old neighbor (above, in the red shirt), when all of his friends show up at my house. Elli learned I had a camera earlier in the day when I had to charge the battery in town, and he couldn’t wait to show his friends. I taught Elli how to use it and he started teaching the others how to use it. After a series of mugshots taken in my courtyard against the bright blue wall, they asked if we could go to ____ and take pictures of the ____. Neither of these words were in my kiswahili vocabulary at this point so I really had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I was intrigued so I agreed.

We walked out of our courtyard and around the side of the house, down a path through a cornfield. With visions of Children of the Corn starting to go through my head, the path opened up just in time to cut through a group of enormous boulders. I looked up at the 3 story high rocks, and then glanced behind me at Fabi, Elli’s younger brother, who just nodded his head and said, ‘yup, we’re going up there.’

The boys started running up the side of the first boulder, but Fabi (orange shirt) stayed behind to show me the easier path. There were trees growing on the side, and together with smaller rocks that lined the side getting to the top was no big deal. After stepping over the last crevice, I stood up and did a 360. The view was absolutely breathtaking. The area is mostly flat with gentle, rolling hills and during the (not-so) ‘rainy’ season, corn grew in rows that traced the curve of the land and grass poked out of dusty mounds. From the top I couldn’t believe how far I could see, a man walked along a path in between two farms that seemed miles away, and women lifted buckets on their heads, walking in a single line from the well to the path that connects to the next village. As I kept turning around and around, taking in all views, the boys had started their photo shoot. They were posing on rocks, with the soccer ball, in fighting poses they could have only learned from the generator-powered movie show each night played in the village, there were solo shots and group shots, and even a shot that will make me smile for the rest of my life…

It’s kind of small, but the boy in the far back has one of his arms out of his shirt with a stone cold look on his face, pointing at the ball, the smallest boy is just holding the ball with an equally serious look on his face, and the one in the front looks like he just got to the end of a runway wearing my khanga like this seasons hottest trend.

The boys said there were more, so we climbed down this one, and up the next, one of them lagging behind each time to show me the easy way up. We through around the ball, took pictures, and they were teaching me some new kiswahili words as the hours passed of climbing up and down the boulders. I was on a serious mjusi (these red and blue lizzards that live around the rocks) when I looked up and caught them in this great moment…they were completely silent, perched on this flat space watching the sunset…

I was sitting behind them as the sun set, and tried to imagine being in their shoes; only 3 of them are in school, the others spend their days herding cattle and goats or working on the family farm, one earns money by delivering water jugs to houses using his prized bicycle. They love Manchester United and Jackie Chan, they’ve learned jerry-rig things you couldn’t imagine, and at the end of the day this moment and this laughter keeps carries us all through ‘til tomorrow.

peace.

epic update

Well as usual when I get around to posting, I have more to say than I can articulate. This time is no different…

Jill arrived just in time for Christmas, as she was delayed for about a week due to the storms in london or something. She got in late on christmas eve and was the best christmas present ever. We spend christmas in dar, then headed south to stay in my village for a while. It was so amazing having someone from home experience a piece of my life here with me, and showing her my village was so fun. We spent the majority of the days running a makeshift daycare, and between the soccer ball she brought me and the coloring book I found in dar, we were quite the entertainers. Only a few days had passed when we were caught in a ‘safety and security’ issue. After a few days in Songea with the lovely ms. veronica, we left for dar to sort out some details. Jill was able to continue on her trip, and a few days later she left for Malawi to visit another Peace Corps friend, then on to Zimbabwe and South Africa. She left in the one bus line she had heard interesting things about, but (eventually) made it safely:) I remained in Dar while peace corps continued to check on the situation in my village. On January 4th I was informed that I had two options – to take an interrupted service and return to America, or transfer to a different village, returning to my village was not an option. I was absolutely heartbroken. I had dug my heels in there, formed amazing relationships and started projects with motivated people who wanted to improve their lives and the lives of others. I remained in denial for a good amount of time and tried time and time again to convince peace corps that it was fine and I needed to go back. Being the incredible staff that they are, they provided continuous support to me, communicated with my villagers, and listened to everything I had to say. In the end they stood their ground. I asked if it would be okay for me to visit the new site before making a decision and I soon left for a short visit to get more information. The village was Sepuka, about 35 km outside of the town of Singida in central-ish Tanzania. I traveled with Cessie, another volunteer headed back to her site, also right outside of Singida. On the bus headed to Singida she mentioned that it looks a lot like something straight out of The Lion King. She was absolutely right. Huge boulders spot the dry, flat landscape, as grass peeks out of the dirt during the present ‘rainy’ season. Another great friend, Duncan, met me in Singida determined to keep me in Tanzania. We took a bus out to Sepuka the next day and after getting dropped off at the health clinic where I’d live, we spent a good part of the afternoon trying to figure out where the ‘village’ actually was. We eventually found the village center, got lunch and tried meeting some people to get a feel about how it would be. The people weren’t hostile by any means, but they were less welcoming than I would have liked. The area was also so remote, with houses spread in between farms and fields. It couldn’t have been more different that Ngadinda. I left there a little disheartened but after many pep talks from my incredible friends here, and the support of my friends and family back home, I decided to make the move to Sepuka. Still very much in denial about the fact that I was having to leave Ngadinda, and realizing traveling back to my village to pack my things and say goodbye in the 3 hour time frame I was given was going to be too much for me. Enters Sarah. She met me in dar, and endured the long ride down to Songea with me. She held my hand, laughed with me and cried with me as I had to break the news to my Mama, Baba, and closest friends in the village. The dreaded day went as well as it could have, my family, neighbors and friends reassuring me that I’d come to love my new village just as much, had a few laughs, and told me that I better come visit. With my return trip planned for April, we piled in the car and pulled out.

With the events of the past 4 weeks still swirling in my head, and feeling fairly emotionally exhausted, I arrived in Sepuka the following monday, January 24th to start all over again. I moved into a duplex shared by a nurse, her 4 kids, and her house girl. The house is much smaller than my old place, and I have virtually no privacy, which I’m learning I really don’t mind so much. I’m trying not to fall in love with Maria, my neighbor’s house girl, the 5 year old boy with cerebral palsy she takes care of, or the 3 other children - a losing battle I’ve all but surrendered to. I’ve always loved being around people and in this particular situation I’m not keen on hanging out by myself all the time. My new family consists of a 20 year old house girl, Maria, and the four neighbor kids she looks after, Elias (16), Fabia (13), Cesie (8), and Jemsi (5). We all make up a pretty hilarious clan. I’ve wandered around the village a few afternoons, meeting people and getting used to the surroundings, and am still undecided about how I feel about starting work all over again. It seems like an overwhelming task to have all those meetings again, and ask all those questions again, but having done it once and with much better kiswahili skills this time, I’m hoping the process is sped up a bit.

Well that’s quite the update. Be rest assured (grama and grampa) that I’m safe and that peace corps did a great job of responding to the situation and taking care of me and listening to my needs. I’ll post pictures of the new village soon, but in the mean time, here’s my family portrait of me with my mama and baba from Ngadinda. I maybe miss them more that my real mom and dad…

Until next time,

peace