I finally feel I have my feet under me a little more. It is the small kindness of strangers in a crowd. A woman taking the time to understand my attempts to understand what I am looking for when it is not in her store, then directing me to the corner. The woman in the corner helping me and saying karibu tena (welcome again) and helping me write to down to remember. Another word open to me like a gift. My tired mind feeling shapes in the dark that slowly one by one become familiar. Slowly I am making connections. If you hear a rattling can or coins a young male is selling cigarettes (a pack or individual) and peanuts. Why do they sell them together? I do not know. Because people who smoke like to eat peanuts? I don't know but they go together. All these little things are like small hands helping me along.
I finally connected with two other women from Paul's class and went for a run. I am so happy for that. Running along the road inhaling the exhaust, the morning sidewalk dust sweeping, the burning garbage, creating a burn in the top of my lungs was still worth every bit. We had a view of Kili too. Some men yelled 'Polepole' as we passed (slow or slowly). The women I ran with keep a respectable pace and we briefly wonder aloud to each other what he meant. Later I saw two Tanzanian men run by and I said 'Look that is why they said it'. The men were running at a 7 minute mile pace. We can only run after sun up or before sun down. You should not walk at dark. Even a group of 4 of Paul's classmates were walking a few blocks and got mugged, no one was seriously injured.
Back at the hostel, where Paul's classmates are staying, I wait for my taxi and talk to a young Massai man. He is tall, wrapped in the traditional clothes, the circular tattoo cuts on his cheeks. He asks me 'why' and gestures to his face to indicate my sweat, why are you sweating. I say 'I ran' and I mine pumping my arms. He asks to the bus station? I tell him (best I can) where we ran (much further than the bus stand). He seems surprised then he studies my shoes, I have trail running shoes that I thought I could hike and run in. I look at his. He wears the same all the Massai I see have, tires with straps. I think his are probably better than mine, I would wear them. I wonder if my shoes seem pointless to him. I ask him if he has cattle (or I try to say do you heard cattle) then I think- did I see a glimmer pass his face? I probably have just been extremely extremely offensive. I feel bad, I ask or you work here? Of course he does, he is a night watchman (as is the man I had to go wake up to open the padlocks on the gate of our B&B just to leave this morning). He is tolerant as I struggle to remember how to answer back in Swahili what my name is, he asked me in English of course.
I hope by the time I leave I will find someone who I can ask how you, logistically, use the dipper and water bucket in the squatty potties, for the front parts of a women. It just seems the wrong angle, I get the back and of things. Finally after 14 years of travel to countries with bidets, I had someone explain to me the exact way it is used and how it fits into daily life. I was happy to understand that it made more sense then 'I use it to wash my feet' and some other things became clear to me as well. All the small cultural things that are so normal to others they don't think to tell you. I was told I am not allowed to publicly name the person on the blog to thank them. But if you read this you know who you are :)
