Tomorrow we fly to Dubai. In my imagination, Dubai is a far off, imaginary city with shiny lights. Africa is here. It's been our home for 13 weeks. During that time, it has filled me and I will be leaving with a heavy heart. I think we were all ready to leave Kampala, though. I talked to the boys tonight on the phone and asked them what they thought about leaving Africa tomorrow and they were sad too.
The London School of Tropical Medicine had their graduation ceremony on Thursday afternoon and it was really sweet and heartfelt. A nice acknowledgment of sixty people who came together from all over the world to improve themselves and work toward the goal of making things better for others, in the process, becoming a group of wonderful friends. They were an incredibly diverse group of people, both students and all of the tutors who came to teach. I am sure they are all going to miss each other. There was serious sadness on Friday as groups were leaving our hotel.
I left Saturday morning before my family awoke to go to a Gorilla Trek (Mountain Gorillas) with one of the other doctors, Jace (the most perfect companion I could ask for!). Our driver made good time and we made it to our destination in less than the eight expected hours. We arrived at the most welcoming and homey spot perched on the top of the lush rolling green hills. The air was cool, clear and clean and it was so quiet. We were given a filling meal with a little charcoal burning fire next to us for warmth. When we were finished, we were escorted by kerosene lamp to our rooms which had hot water bottles warming the beds. I had no idea how much I needed some time alone. It was divine.
Jace and I got up early to go on our trek. The Ugandan Wildlife Authority sends out trackers each morning to find the family of gorillas and they report back on this "gadget" (walky talky) where they are. Today, the gorillas were not in the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, they were out in the edges along the farms and buffer zone. We made our way along a thin slippery mud track between farm plots, then began our climb up. We were lucky it wasn't raining because we were climbing up a hill (imagine going up steps that were 6-24 inches high) over grass, brush, trees and bramble-like plants. After about two hours, we arrived. We were told we'd stay with seven meters between them and us, but that was not the case. We were so close to them, two (one being the alpha silverback of the family) walked within inches of us. It was so amazing, I actually don't really understand that it happened yet. When we finally scrambled out to the road (it was not a loop and somehow we went uphill the whole way), I was so excited that I just told Moses (our driver) "I am going to start running back!" I just ran down the road and it was exhilarating.
I will meet my family at the airport. They've been having a relaxing time in Entebee. It's been weird to be away from the boys since we've been together non-stop since leaving home.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Things Fall Apart
Things Fall Apart is a book written by the West African writer, Chinua Achebe. I bought it and read it aloud to the boys. They pretty much hated it. I am glad we read it and that we talked about it. It's simply, but poetically written and it's a sad tragic story of change.
I wanted to post a few quotes from the book:
"At last the rains came. It was sudden and tremendous. For two or three moons the sun had been gathering strength till it seemed to breath a breath of fire on the earth. All the grass had long been scorched brown, and the sand felt like live coals to the feet. Evergreen trees wore a dusty coat of brown. The birds were silenced in the forest, and the world lay panting under the live, vibrating heat. And then came the clap of thunder. It was an angry, metallic and thirsty clap, unlike the deep and liquid rumbling of the rainy season. A mighty wind arose and filled the air with dusty. Palm trees swayed as the wind combed their leaves into flying crests like strange and fantastic coiffure."
"When the rain finally came, it was in large, solid drops of frozen water which the people called 'the nuts of the water of heaven'. They were hard and painful on the body as they fell, yet young people ran about happily picking up the cold nuts and throwing them into their mouths to melt."
"The earth quickly came to life and the birds in the forest fluttered around and chirped merrily. A vague scent of life and green vegetation was diffused in the air. As the rain began to fall more soberly and in smaller liquid drops, children sought for shelter, and were happy, refreshed and thankful."
A few other quotes of proverbs, etc., that I liked:
"There is nothing to fear from someone who shouts."
"His feet were short and broad, and when he stood or walked his heels came together and his feet opened outwards as if they had quarreled and meant to go in different directions."
"A child's fingers are no scalded by a piece of hot yam which it's mother puts into it's palm."
I wanted to post a few quotes from the book:
"At last the rains came. It was sudden and tremendous. For two or three moons the sun had been gathering strength till it seemed to breath a breath of fire on the earth. All the grass had long been scorched brown, and the sand felt like live coals to the feet. Evergreen trees wore a dusty coat of brown. The birds were silenced in the forest, and the world lay panting under the live, vibrating heat. And then came the clap of thunder. It was an angry, metallic and thirsty clap, unlike the deep and liquid rumbling of the rainy season. A mighty wind arose and filled the air with dusty. Palm trees swayed as the wind combed their leaves into flying crests like strange and fantastic coiffure."
"When the rain finally came, it was in large, solid drops of frozen water which the people called 'the nuts of the water of heaven'. They were hard and painful on the body as they fell, yet young people ran about happily picking up the cold nuts and throwing them into their mouths to melt."
"The earth quickly came to life and the birds in the forest fluttered around and chirped merrily. A vague scent of life and green vegetation was diffused in the air. As the rain began to fall more soberly and in smaller liquid drops, children sought for shelter, and were happy, refreshed and thankful."
A few other quotes of proverbs, etc., that I liked:
"There is nothing to fear from someone who shouts."
"His feet were short and broad, and when he stood or walked his heels came together and his feet opened outwards as if they had quarreled and meant to go in different directions."
"A child's fingers are no scalded by a piece of hot yam which it's mother puts into it's palm."
Where Is the Land of Milk and Honey?
This is a post I started a long time ago, so some of it is a repeat of events. I just thought I'd leave it mostly as is.
As I wrote before, Kampala, Uganda is a big and congested city, not easily accessible when you're unwilling to ride a bota bota. When Paul left for his week of rural study and break weekend, we too left the city and went to Jinja. After a few days there, we departed and flew back to Zanzibar, Tanzania. Part of me feels like it was a move of weakness, of ease. Part of me struggles with having a 'real' African experience and staying directly within the culture, but that is a whole different topic.
When we were here in Zanzibar before, I met a young Muslim man with a bike on the beach. He stopped to talk to me. We conversed as best we could, he in broken Swahili and me in broken English. The basic conversation was "how do you find it here?" and I said it beautiful and amazing and he wanted to know why, with genuine perplexity. He, himself, had a dream to go to America.
If you are staying at lodging of any type along the beach in Zanzibar, you can't believe how ideal this place is. If you weren't sleeping on your way to and from your lodging, or coming in the dark, you see the truth that lies in the walls of your bit of paradise. The parts of the island "beyond the walls" that I have seen are scrubby with what looks like thin topsoil over dead coral and volcanic rock. Many of the small villages are made of simple buildings, some that are empty and in disrepair, some of cement, some little structures are cobbled together with scraps and what is lived in looks to be very basic. Some people are using open wells for their water. Today we rode borrowed bikes to the nearby village and it was so hot without the sea breeze. People sat in doorways while goats, chicken and children wandered and garbage fluttered. I see how he can dream of a "better place."
From my other discussions with Tanzanians and Ugandans, it is clear that they don't all have a clear idea of the States. Many are as familiar with the geography of the states as Americans are with the geography of Africa, which is to say: not at all.
They can't imagine that anyone is homeless, unless by choice, and think we are all rich. How do I explain to them that many Americans are chasing their own dreams? How Americans are often working to pay for their toys, but not really enjoying it, and that some dream of life like they have here. A life where they can grow food all year round or pull it from the ocean. Who am I to know if it would be better for them? Many here know hardship (and empty bellies or untreated medical conditions) and can mask it as well. There are some who know hardship and ask you for food or some money.
You may imagine, as I did, that the cost of living here is low. Some things are low, I can buy an avocado for 20-50 cents. I can buy chipati (like a tortilla but made of bread and maybe better) for 50-80 cents. I can buy a local meal (chips (fries), rice, casava, sweet potato, or ugali with a side of meat or beans) in Uganda for about 2 dollars. If you want any other foods besides that (or street food) it can be about 8-15 dollars. Gas is more EXPENSIVE than the states. Many people in Tanzania make about 100,000-150,000 TSH (1,500 TSH to 1 US dollar). You can see why people in public positions are open to accepting bribes to supplement their small income.
As I wrote before, Kampala, Uganda is a big and congested city, not easily accessible when you're unwilling to ride a bota bota. When Paul left for his week of rural study and break weekend, we too left the city and went to Jinja. After a few days there, we departed and flew back to Zanzibar, Tanzania. Part of me feels like it was a move of weakness, of ease. Part of me struggles with having a 'real' African experience and staying directly within the culture, but that is a whole different topic.
When we were here in Zanzibar before, I met a young Muslim man with a bike on the beach. He stopped to talk to me. We conversed as best we could, he in broken Swahili and me in broken English. The basic conversation was "how do you find it here?" and I said it beautiful and amazing and he wanted to know why, with genuine perplexity. He, himself, had a dream to go to America.
If you are staying at lodging of any type along the beach in Zanzibar, you can't believe how ideal this place is. If you weren't sleeping on your way to and from your lodging, or coming in the dark, you see the truth that lies in the walls of your bit of paradise. The parts of the island "beyond the walls" that I have seen are scrubby with what looks like thin topsoil over dead coral and volcanic rock. Many of the small villages are made of simple buildings, some that are empty and in disrepair, some of cement, some little structures are cobbled together with scraps and what is lived in looks to be very basic. Some people are using open wells for their water. Today we rode borrowed bikes to the nearby village and it was so hot without the sea breeze. People sat in doorways while goats, chicken and children wandered and garbage fluttered. I see how he can dream of a "better place."
From my other discussions with Tanzanians and Ugandans, it is clear that they don't all have a clear idea of the States. Many are as familiar with the geography of the states as Americans are with the geography of Africa, which is to say: not at all.
They can't imagine that anyone is homeless, unless by choice, and think we are all rich. How do I explain to them that many Americans are chasing their own dreams? How Americans are often working to pay for their toys, but not really enjoying it, and that some dream of life like they have here. A life where they can grow food all year round or pull it from the ocean. Who am I to know if it would be better for them? Many here know hardship (and empty bellies or untreated medical conditions) and can mask it as well. There are some who know hardship and ask you for food or some money.
You may imagine, as I did, that the cost of living here is low. Some things are low, I can buy an avocado for 20-50 cents. I can buy chipati (like a tortilla but made of bread and maybe better) for 50-80 cents. I can buy a local meal (chips (fries), rice, casava, sweet potato, or ugali with a side of meat or beans) in Uganda for about 2 dollars. If you want any other foods besides that (or street food) it can be about 8-15 dollars. Gas is more EXPENSIVE than the states. Many people in Tanzania make about 100,000-150,000 TSH (1,500 TSH to 1 US dollar). You can see why people in public positions are open to accepting bribes to supplement their small income.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Cooking Lesson From the Heart
I asked the restaurant staff at our hotel if the chef would tell me how he made the masala they served. I could see the whole cumin, cardamom, cloves and taste the fresh ginger in it, it was so good. Today they came by as I finished breakfast and said "the chef is ready to show you now in the kitchen!"
I went in and he had set EVERYTHING out in a tidy order: a plate set up with four types of whole spices and 3 types of ground, all neatly piled in a circle. A package of tomato paste was out and opened, a part of a sliced green pepper, a part of a hot pepper, a carefully peeled tomato, a cup of water, butter and a pan. Then, he carefully went though each step and showed me the entire process. Then, he took me to a simmering pot of it and said this was different, this was how they make it if they want to take an hour, and he verbally took me through the steps. Then he made me taste both and asked what I thought about the differences.
Tonight he came by our table after we were finished and asked how we liked each part of each of our meals. I wanted to ask for another lesson on how he makes his coconut curry!
It's interactions like these that are so heartfelt, sincere, and sweet it takes your breath away. I can't talk to many people with much depth and sophistication due to language limitations (in fact, the boys will sometimes turn and whisper "MOM they DON'T understand you!") but these times make up for it ten fold.
I went in and he had set EVERYTHING out in a tidy order: a plate set up with four types of whole spices and 3 types of ground, all neatly piled in a circle. A package of tomato paste was out and opened, a part of a sliced green pepper, a part of a hot pepper, a carefully peeled tomato, a cup of water, butter and a pan. Then, he carefully went though each step and showed me the entire process. Then, he took me to a simmering pot of it and said this was different, this was how they make it if they want to take an hour, and he verbally took me through the steps. Then he made me taste both and asked what I thought about the differences.
Tonight he came by our table after we were finished and asked how we liked each part of each of our meals. I wanted to ask for another lesson on how he makes his coconut curry!
It's interactions like these that are so heartfelt, sincere, and sweet it takes your breath away. I can't talk to many people with much depth and sophistication due to language limitations (in fact, the boys will sometimes turn and whisper "MOM they DON'T understand you!") but these times make up for it ten fold.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Mistakes Were Made for Comfort
Really, I should say I have shown lack of judgment in hopes of comfort.
Sometimes when you travel, you want a break from the new or different. Sometimes you want the comfort of something familiar, you just want EASY. Tanzania and Uganda CAN have a lot of diverse foods if you know where to look, depending on where you are in the country. For my family, eating out comfort foods are Thai, Indian and sushi. Believe it or not, we have found all those between the two countries (Thai and sushi not very often, only in Kampala, but Indian is frequent. In fact, tomorrow I am getting a lesson on how to make the best masala I have had yet). **
HOWEVER, I also love salad and I love feta and I love olives and I love MY idea of a Greek salad. I say "my idea" since I haven't been to Greece and they may taste what I fancy to be a Greek salad and say "what?! is this?!" After my second sad (in my eyes and tastes) Greek salad I told the kids I am NO LONGER allowed to order these unless I SEE it come out and KNOW it will be what I expect. They've stopped me at least once, good boys that they are.
Here at our table, for some reason. they put out mustard. Just yellow mustard and it stays on the tables each day with the other condiments they offer. I haven't had mustard since France. The mustard bottle is the yellow plastic squeeze type, the label has some brown/black mold on it, the top has some sort of black... something. I did inspect it the first day wondering what the hell that could have been. Today I came to shaking the mustard and squeezing some out on my plate, approximately 1/2 a teaspoon. It was a thick constancy that made me think it wasn't too newly opened (and then the spotty mold on the label should have been another clue). After I ate it, I thought that was probably a bad idea. Then I thought mustard is pretty shelf stable, it has a lot of vinegar, right? That is what I am telling myself.
** This reminds me of one of our sushi eating experiences in Kampala. One of Paul's classmates is from Japan. He looked up a Japanese restaurant and a group of us went out to dinner there. We all shared a big variety of foods. One of the group asked the Japanese classmate, "How would you rate this 1-10 in comparison to Japan?'. Without hesitation he said "2." Then the same guy said, "what about after being in Africa for 8 weeks?" Again, without missing a beat he looked up and said "6!"
Sometimes when you travel, you want a break from the new or different. Sometimes you want the comfort of something familiar, you just want EASY. Tanzania and Uganda CAN have a lot of diverse foods if you know where to look, depending on where you are in the country. For my family, eating out comfort foods are Thai, Indian and sushi. Believe it or not, we have found all those between the two countries (Thai and sushi not very often, only in Kampala, but Indian is frequent. In fact, tomorrow I am getting a lesson on how to make the best masala I have had yet). **
HOWEVER, I also love salad and I love feta and I love olives and I love MY idea of a Greek salad. I say "my idea" since I haven't been to Greece and they may taste what I fancy to be a Greek salad and say "what?! is this?!" After my second sad (in my eyes and tastes) Greek salad I told the kids I am NO LONGER allowed to order these unless I SEE it come out and KNOW it will be what I expect. They've stopped me at least once, good boys that they are.
Here at our table, for some reason. they put out mustard. Just yellow mustard and it stays on the tables each day with the other condiments they offer. I haven't had mustard since France. The mustard bottle is the yellow plastic squeeze type, the label has some brown/black mold on it, the top has some sort of black... something. I did inspect it the first day wondering what the hell that could have been. Today I came to shaking the mustard and squeezing some out on my plate, approximately 1/2 a teaspoon. It was a thick constancy that made me think it wasn't too newly opened (and then the spotty mold on the label should have been another clue). After I ate it, I thought that was probably a bad idea. Then I thought mustard is pretty shelf stable, it has a lot of vinegar, right? That is what I am telling myself.
** This reminds me of one of our sushi eating experiences in Kampala. One of Paul's classmates is from Japan. He looked up a Japanese restaurant and a group of us went out to dinner there. We all shared a big variety of foods. One of the group asked the Japanese classmate, "How would you rate this 1-10 in comparison to Japan?'. Without hesitation he said "2." Then the same guy said, "what about after being in Africa for 8 weeks?" Again, without missing a beat he looked up and said "6!"
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Along the Indian Ocean
A few nights ago, the boys and I moved to another hotel. We loved where we were, at Panga Chumvi. We are here, on the island, for 17 days, so it seemed like a good idea to be in more than one spot. This second hotel is older, nice, has some wear to it, has a clean pool (sometimes goats come by to drink out of it) and is still quiet, but not in such an isolated sense, and has more of a Stone Town feel. We are in a little room with a nice breeze from the ocean. My bed is right next to a window, which is open all of the time. The boys have a fan and a window. On our transition here, I got to check off another new African experience: bribe an official.
We have traded mosquitoes for a breeze... and these wall crawling centipedes. I have stepped on 3 of them by accident, and it is an unpleasant sensation and sound. Honestly though, I'd step on 10 centipedes a day in trade for no mosquitoes! This, plus me stepping on two sole (flat fish) hidden in the sandy bottoms of the ocean (causing me to squeal like a baby pig, I am not proud, but they are shockingly squishy and tug, understandably, hard to get out from under your foot), has made the boys joke about how I will step on whatever there is to be stepped on. They "helpfully" point out any crawling centipede for me. At least I didn't step on any stonefish like Oso. The stonefish incident has made us a little gun-shy of the water here. The tap water here, as well as at Panga Chumvi, is brackish, and we will enjoy a nice sweet water shower once we return to Kampala.
Yesterday, when we were along the water's edge, a young man came over with a toddler. The 18-year-old was the toddler's uncle. The uncle chatted with me. The little boy, Eddy, interacted, in his way, with the boys. When we went out to the water, Eddy followed and had me hold and bob him over the waves. He was delighted, tt was quite sweet. L saw a little jellyfish in the water. I told our young man there was a jellyfish and he said, "that is dangerous, what color?" (sounds like "dan-jurous" with their sweet accent.) I told him it was brown and he said, "oh, is not a problem." They do, however, have man o' war here.
Today I went for a run along the beach. This beach has so many shells, but I managed to not step on any poky ones or any of the washed up big, clear jellyfish. Near the end of the run, a young Muslim girl ran along side me for a bit and asked for my hair tie. I gave it to her. I wonder if it's good to hand out these small things. It makes me feel nice to give her such a small thing, but does it continue this idea that you should ask the tourist to give you things, and that we are all rich?
We ate our breakfast in the restaurant with the ever so light and continuous sprinkle of termite poo as they slowly ate all the wood above our heads. The boys and I can hear them devouring wood things here, what a constant challenge that must be. We talked to our waiter some this morning. He has six children and one more on the way. His family lives in Stone Town, about a 40-minute car ride from here (also the only place you can get some things, such as banks/ATM). He works and stays here 6 days and has the choice to go home or stay here on his day off. He can spend 3,000 tsh to ride the dala dala (3+ hours total round trip) home or transfer money via the phone to his family. After the baby comes, he can go home on his day off to help.
I asked the boys if they could imagine that many siblings. "What would you think if you had 5 more siblings?" They had two responses: "How would you name them all?" Then I asked, "how would you keep track of them?" to which the answer was: "Oh, you'd get to know them."
We have had some serious challenges being able to keep in touch with Paul. The Tanzanian SIM I have is not one of the more popular ones here, so it's hard to keep charged with air time. I buy the little amounts here and there as I find them and they go fast, calling to Uganda. We won't be here much longer though, we return on the 16th and then we'll be with Paul until he finishes his class and we leave on the rest of our trip. It is hard to believe that we are close to leaving Africa.
I am coming back in to add something. We went out in the water and saw the brown jellyfish again and this one was bigger. I went back to get our swim goggles to see it better. A group of village boys were playing in the water nearby and wanted to use the goggles. There were two goggles and about 10 boys. They descended upon them like little wild beasts when I let them borrow them. When I took them back to leave, they asked for money and candy. I wanted to irritably ask them where on earth I could put money or candy in my wet attire. I suppose this earlier action, of giving my hair tie, reinforces they thought to ask for things. I think it's better not to do it at all but within a specific format.
The boys continue to totally amaze and impress me. They just stay so even keel about everything. They did have a little trouble transitioning into Kampala. Here, along the Indian Ocean, is a place of waves lapping and the breeze building as the day goes on. It is a good place to be inside yourself with the bright sun above you. You can imagine you are being washed and baked of any impurities of the soul.
We have traded mosquitoes for a breeze... and these wall crawling centipedes. I have stepped on 3 of them by accident, and it is an unpleasant sensation and sound. Honestly though, I'd step on 10 centipedes a day in trade for no mosquitoes! This, plus me stepping on two sole (flat fish) hidden in the sandy bottoms of the ocean (causing me to squeal like a baby pig, I am not proud, but they are shockingly squishy and tug, understandably, hard to get out from under your foot), has made the boys joke about how I will step on whatever there is to be stepped on. They "helpfully" point out any crawling centipede for me. At least I didn't step on any stonefish like Oso. The stonefish incident has made us a little gun-shy of the water here. The tap water here, as well as at Panga Chumvi, is brackish, and we will enjoy a nice sweet water shower once we return to Kampala.
Yesterday, when we were along the water's edge, a young man came over with a toddler. The 18-year-old was the toddler's uncle. The uncle chatted with me. The little boy, Eddy, interacted, in his way, with the boys. When we went out to the water, Eddy followed and had me hold and bob him over the waves. He was delighted, tt was quite sweet. L saw a little jellyfish in the water. I told our young man there was a jellyfish and he said, "that is dangerous, what color?" (sounds like "dan-jurous" with their sweet accent.) I told him it was brown and he said, "oh, is not a problem." They do, however, have man o' war here.
Today I went for a run along the beach. This beach has so many shells, but I managed to not step on any poky ones or any of the washed up big, clear jellyfish. Near the end of the run, a young Muslim girl ran along side me for a bit and asked for my hair tie. I gave it to her. I wonder if it's good to hand out these small things. It makes me feel nice to give her such a small thing, but does it continue this idea that you should ask the tourist to give you things, and that we are all rich?
We ate our breakfast in the restaurant with the ever so light and continuous sprinkle of termite poo as they slowly ate all the wood above our heads. The boys and I can hear them devouring wood things here, what a constant challenge that must be. We talked to our waiter some this morning. He has six children and one more on the way. His family lives in Stone Town, about a 40-minute car ride from here (also the only place you can get some things, such as banks/ATM). He works and stays here 6 days and has the choice to go home or stay here on his day off. He can spend 3,000 tsh to ride the dala dala (3+ hours total round trip) home or transfer money via the phone to his family. After the baby comes, he can go home on his day off to help.
I asked the boys if they could imagine that many siblings. "What would you think if you had 5 more siblings?" They had two responses: "How would you name them all?" Then I asked, "how would you keep track of them?" to which the answer was: "Oh, you'd get to know them."
We have had some serious challenges being able to keep in touch with Paul. The Tanzanian SIM I have is not one of the more popular ones here, so it's hard to keep charged with air time. I buy the little amounts here and there as I find them and they go fast, calling to Uganda. We won't be here much longer though, we return on the 16th and then we'll be with Paul until he finishes his class and we leave on the rest of our trip. It is hard to believe that we are close to leaving Africa.
I am coming back in to add something. We went out in the water and saw the brown jellyfish again and this one was bigger. I went back to get our swim goggles to see it better. A group of village boys were playing in the water nearby and wanted to use the goggles. There were two goggles and about 10 boys. They descended upon them like little wild beasts when I let them borrow them. When I took them back to leave, they asked for money and candy. I wanted to irritably ask them where on earth I could put money or candy in my wet attire. I suppose this earlier action, of giving my hair tie, reinforces they thought to ask for things. I think it's better not to do it at all but within a specific format.
The boys continue to totally amaze and impress me. They just stay so even keel about everything. They did have a little trouble transitioning into Kampala. Here, along the Indian Ocean, is a place of waves lapping and the breeze building as the day goes on. It is a good place to be inside yourself with the bright sun above you. You can imagine you are being washed and baked of any impurities of the soul.
Friday, November 8, 2013
All in a Day at Zanzibar.....
I wanted to say "all in a days work," but that doesn't really apply. It has been raining here quite a bit which makes the air pregnant with moisture and even things that are undercover and not directly "wet," are damp.
Yesterday, we went on a spice tour (wet but enjoyable) and they folded some really cool things from coconut fronds. Of course my eldest, being so capable in his 3D thinking, has been folding palm fronds since we have returned. There is one particularity kind security guard who has enjoyed checking in on the boy's activities. When he saw him folding yesterday he came over in his quiet way and showed O several other things which were really cool. Today after O finished his homework he looked up some instructions online and learned how to weave a small 3D bird.
An older Muslim man from the village came by to collect the dead palm fronds (I learned today that people save them and sell them or give them away. People use them to make all kinds of things). He and our guard friend folded some more things for us, then insisted I learn how to fold something. They didn't speak English and my Swahili is situational (and not for any art/craft or weaving) so I really had no idea what I was making, I though it was part of roof. The one showing me kept moving my hand and tapping them when I was mistaken then saying "Safi!" (literally this translates to "clean," but it's similar to "good" or "cool") and laughing. My hands became blacker and blacker with the fine mold of the leaves. At one point two of the gardeners were watching also and one couldn't stop himself from adjusting my hands as well. It must have been madding for them to see someone work so slowly. It ended up being a mat you can use on a table or a decoration for the wall. The one I made and the other one of them made are different and they kindly insisted I take them with me as a gift.
Later I convinced O to go with me to the water. The beach here has several areas of seaweed and some coral here and there, and there is a reef a ways from shore, as well. There is a minefield of sea urchins all along the way and we've felt the nasty spikes break off in our feet. Today when the two of us were walking back in, O was stung by one. I knew it was something new by the way he told me he was stung. He sat down so I could see it; a small, bloody hole on his foot. We looked where he stepped to see what it could be. He pointed to two areas he thought he could have stepped and said "maybe it was that fish." I looked and I don't know how he saw what he did so fast. There was a stonefish, but it looked like a clump of sand, the only reason I saw it was the two rounded fins. Even so, I thought, "that cannot be a fish." Clearly, these fish rely on their camouflage and stinging (vs. speed), since I picked it up with two sticks to look at it, and it did nothing. It didn't freak out at all. I thought perhaps I should take a picture of it, because I knew stonefish were an issue here, but I wasn't yet sure of what it was.
The answer is yes, it was a stonefish. Yes, they are poisonous. Yes, you swell. Yes, you don't feel great. The treatment is to soak the affected area in hot water for at least 40-60 minutes. The nice thing was that three ladies with four kids checked in today, as well as two adults. I thought the people with kids would have antihistamines, and one did. A year out-of-date (would have used anyway if it was just that), and without instructions in a language I could read and without dosage information, so we didn't use it. Regardless, it was so nice to have them there with me, to have other concerned mothers who are mostly fluent in your own language, and are mostly from a culture similar to yours. Two of them lived here and had suggested numbers to call. They and the staff here were SO sweet and helpful. I was mostly concerned if he should or should not, and if he should, then I was concerned about my lack of, antihistamines. I was able to also text Paul who called back.
Of course, his younger brother was very concerned. I gave him the computer (more like push... "take this!") with the instructions, "look online to see how to treat it!" I had looked briefly myself, but found nothing more than soak your infected or the other option is you die. No real helpful middle ground. He completed his search, reported it to me, then 'thoughtfully' suggested his brother should be allowed (they've been without- only using computer for schoolwork, etc.) to play a computer game to "take his mind off" the discomfort. I allowed it because, actually, he was really in pain.
It is okay now. He said it feels like when he sprained his ankle and took the brace off. No acute pain and such. I tried to find a picture of it online to know more about the specific type of fish. It was on a "Top 10 Most Poisonous Animals" webpage. I swear, between both the blue-ringed octopus and the black mamba (which they also have here).
Yesterday, we went on a spice tour (wet but enjoyable) and they folded some really cool things from coconut fronds. Of course my eldest, being so capable in his 3D thinking, has been folding palm fronds since we have returned. There is one particularity kind security guard who has enjoyed checking in on the boy's activities. When he saw him folding yesterday he came over in his quiet way and showed O several other things which were really cool. Today after O finished his homework he looked up some instructions online and learned how to weave a small 3D bird.
An older Muslim man from the village came by to collect the dead palm fronds (I learned today that people save them and sell them or give them away. People use them to make all kinds of things). He and our guard friend folded some more things for us, then insisted I learn how to fold something. They didn't speak English and my Swahili is situational (and not for any art/craft or weaving) so I really had no idea what I was making, I though it was part of roof. The one showing me kept moving my hand and tapping them when I was mistaken then saying "Safi!" (literally this translates to "clean," but it's similar to "good" or "cool") and laughing. My hands became blacker and blacker with the fine mold of the leaves. At one point two of the gardeners were watching also and one couldn't stop himself from adjusting my hands as well. It must have been madding for them to see someone work so slowly. It ended up being a mat you can use on a table or a decoration for the wall. The one I made and the other one of them made are different and they kindly insisted I take them with me as a gift.
Later I convinced O to go with me to the water. The beach here has several areas of seaweed and some coral here and there, and there is a reef a ways from shore, as well. There is a minefield of sea urchins all along the way and we've felt the nasty spikes break off in our feet. Today when the two of us were walking back in, O was stung by one. I knew it was something new by the way he told me he was stung. He sat down so I could see it; a small, bloody hole on his foot. We looked where he stepped to see what it could be. He pointed to two areas he thought he could have stepped and said "maybe it was that fish." I looked and I don't know how he saw what he did so fast. There was a stonefish, but it looked like a clump of sand, the only reason I saw it was the two rounded fins. Even so, I thought, "that cannot be a fish." Clearly, these fish rely on their camouflage and stinging (vs. speed), since I picked it up with two sticks to look at it, and it did nothing. It didn't freak out at all. I thought perhaps I should take a picture of it, because I knew stonefish were an issue here, but I wasn't yet sure of what it was.
The answer is yes, it was a stonefish. Yes, they are poisonous. Yes, you swell. Yes, you don't feel great. The treatment is to soak the affected area in hot water for at least 40-60 minutes. The nice thing was that three ladies with four kids checked in today, as well as two adults. I thought the people with kids would have antihistamines, and one did. A year out-of-date (would have used anyway if it was just that), and without instructions in a language I could read and without dosage information, so we didn't use it. Regardless, it was so nice to have them there with me, to have other concerned mothers who are mostly fluent in your own language, and are mostly from a culture similar to yours. Two of them lived here and had suggested numbers to call. They and the staff here were SO sweet and helpful. I was mostly concerned if he should or should not, and if he should, then I was concerned about my lack of, antihistamines. I was able to also text Paul who called back.
Of course, his younger brother was very concerned. I gave him the computer (more like push... "take this!") with the instructions, "look online to see how to treat it!" I had looked briefly myself, but found nothing more than soak your infected or the other option is you die. No real helpful middle ground. He completed his search, reported it to me, then 'thoughtfully' suggested his brother should be allowed (they've been without- only using computer for schoolwork, etc.) to play a computer game to "take his mind off" the discomfort. I allowed it because, actually, he was really in pain.
It is okay now. He said it feels like when he sprained his ankle and took the brace off. No acute pain and such. I tried to find a picture of it online to know more about the specific type of fish. It was on a "Top 10 Most Poisonous Animals" webpage. I swear, between both the blue-ringed octopus and the black mamba (which they also have here).
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Michael Jackson
Michael Jackson seems to have a large and robust following here in Tanzania and in Uganda. The first few times I heard 'We are the World' and 'Man in the Mirror' was a fun trip down memory lane to middle school but now I wouldn't mind a switch up or two. Just saying.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Jinja and travel expectations.
Paul left last Friday for his away rotation with a group of his classmates. His group was focusing on several infections, sleeping sickness and Schistosomiasis being the two main ones that I remember. If you want to read about Schisto here is a wiki link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schistosomiasis If you happen to read about how this is spread and understand that they were only given infected lake water to use for showering you will also understand why there was no showering at all on their parts. Thank you baby wipes is what I imagine they'd say. Or I did get one text from Paul saying they were 'showering' in the rain storms.
His group was traveling to different places for the first few nights and on the long 8 hour drive broke down and never made it to the spot they were supposed to go to. As I understand it they waited all day along the side of the road and ended up in a closer town for the night. They are now up at one of the National Parks that is supposed to be one of the more stunning of the Ugandan parks. He will return this weekend (I think tomorrow- when it's the eclipse) to Kampala and the remainder of his classes are there.
The boys and I went to Jinja for a few days. Jinja is a lovely town on 'the source of the Nile'. Where the Nile meets Lake Victoria. I put it in quotes because there are other so called sources too and we went on a beautiful boat ride to the 'source' and saw some birds we hadn't yet seen and sever Nile Monitors, which was quite exciting for us. I also placed some of my Grandma's ashes right at the tip of the Nile. I think that would have been her favorite place of all so far. We also ended up seeing the group of classmates who were doing their research week there and meet them for a fun dinner. The boys taught two of the Tanzanians how to play BS (card game). That was fun to watch.
The day Paul broke down was the day we went for two tours. This was a good day to remember to hold your expectations lightly for all of us. The tours I thought we were going on were a weaving co-op of women and a sugar cane tour.
The weaving tour ended up being a large, crumbing textile factory, the largest in East Africa. We went in through a non working metal detector and waited. The man who arranged these things with us called someone, then was taken somewhere then came back then taken somewhere then came back. He seemed equally as mystified as we did with the process. After some time a group of 50 or so school children arrived and we all exchanged looks. Before we started the tour our guide asked if we could take pictures. The factory guide said No, that come straight from Management. There are monitors and it would make a problem for my job. Then he said I can let you take one picture, I will tell you where.
We set off in our sea of children, all in blue uniforms and with heads shaved close. The factory was interesting, I won't go into the whole tour but it was noisy and very dusty. In nearly each area the factory guide would bring Levin up (he had the camera) to take a picture or make me take one of the boys posing with him, which I found funny after he was firm there were to be no pictures. I understand so much more now how a factory line can lose money on inefficiency and lackadaisical attitude of employees as well as employees feeling bored and unmotivated. The last phase of the tour was printing and the large room had a haze hanging in the air with a slight solvent smell. I wondered exactly how much toxin I was exposing my children to and then - have I educated my children well or brainwashed them? Oso sidled up to me and whispers 'How much toxin do you think we are breathing in?'. Three hours later we were off to our next tour.
We drove along all the sugar cane fields and finally came to the factory security gate. There was an amusing process of checking in through 3 different checkpoints even though we didn't have the right papers or IDs then we waited going through another screening and metal detector (that I saw people just walking around going in and out) and waited. The short of it was we were unable to go and the kids were actually relieved. That was when I said how about we just go to the river and we had our nice boat ride.
In the end it was not at all what I had expected and had I even known I might have not had them plan the things we did but I am glad it worked out that way since it was all rather interesting and entertaining with the right attitude. Also had we not gone on the factory tour I wouldn't have known that I was running by a work crew of prison inmates later that day on my run (they made the prison uniform fabric).
Since then the kids and I spent a day traveling back to Zanzibar. When we were flying into one of our transfer points I feel such a familiar comfort at being back in the landscape of Tanzania. We are now just enjoying ourselves on the beach.
Here is what some of the kid's schooling has been the last few days:
Finishing a book (I read it out loud and we've been talking about it) that is part of a set they read at school in Uganda about a Ugandan boy, Moses, and his adventures with his classmates at his boarding school. Next we will start a book by Chinua Achebe. He is supposed to be a very well known African writer.
We learned the Arabic words and the translation, to the call to prayer.
The boys have discovered how to make rock hard balls of sand that stay for longer than a day, make them elaborate tracts to roll on through tunnels (of sand), made them buried storage areas that have 'survived' the tides and been dug up.
We have looked in the sea grass bed (not where we spent time looking last time) and have found new things we didn't see last time. My feet are a bit worse off for it but it's worth it.
His group was traveling to different places for the first few nights and on the long 8 hour drive broke down and never made it to the spot they were supposed to go to. As I understand it they waited all day along the side of the road and ended up in a closer town for the night. They are now up at one of the National Parks that is supposed to be one of the more stunning of the Ugandan parks. He will return this weekend (I think tomorrow- when it's the eclipse) to Kampala and the remainder of his classes are there.
The boys and I went to Jinja for a few days. Jinja is a lovely town on 'the source of the Nile'. Where the Nile meets Lake Victoria. I put it in quotes because there are other so called sources too and we went on a beautiful boat ride to the 'source' and saw some birds we hadn't yet seen and sever Nile Monitors, which was quite exciting for us. I also placed some of my Grandma's ashes right at the tip of the Nile. I think that would have been her favorite place of all so far. We also ended up seeing the group of classmates who were doing their research week there and meet them for a fun dinner. The boys taught two of the Tanzanians how to play BS (card game). That was fun to watch.
The day Paul broke down was the day we went for two tours. This was a good day to remember to hold your expectations lightly for all of us. The tours I thought we were going on were a weaving co-op of women and a sugar cane tour.
The weaving tour ended up being a large, crumbing textile factory, the largest in East Africa. We went in through a non working metal detector and waited. The man who arranged these things with us called someone, then was taken somewhere then came back then taken somewhere then came back. He seemed equally as mystified as we did with the process. After some time a group of 50 or so school children arrived and we all exchanged looks. Before we started the tour our guide asked if we could take pictures. The factory guide said No, that come straight from Management. There are monitors and it would make a problem for my job. Then he said I can let you take one picture, I will tell you where.
We set off in our sea of children, all in blue uniforms and with heads shaved close. The factory was interesting, I won't go into the whole tour but it was noisy and very dusty. In nearly each area the factory guide would bring Levin up (he had the camera) to take a picture or make me take one of the boys posing with him, which I found funny after he was firm there were to be no pictures. I understand so much more now how a factory line can lose money on inefficiency and lackadaisical attitude of employees as well as employees feeling bored and unmotivated. The last phase of the tour was printing and the large room had a haze hanging in the air with a slight solvent smell. I wondered exactly how much toxin I was exposing my children to and then - have I educated my children well or brainwashed them? Oso sidled up to me and whispers 'How much toxin do you think we are breathing in?'. Three hours later we were off to our next tour.
We drove along all the sugar cane fields and finally came to the factory security gate. There was an amusing process of checking in through 3 different checkpoints even though we didn't have the right papers or IDs then we waited going through another screening and metal detector (that I saw people just walking around going in and out) and waited. The short of it was we were unable to go and the kids were actually relieved. That was when I said how about we just go to the river and we had our nice boat ride.
In the end it was not at all what I had expected and had I even known I might have not had them plan the things we did but I am glad it worked out that way since it was all rather interesting and entertaining with the right attitude. Also had we not gone on the factory tour I wouldn't have known that I was running by a work crew of prison inmates later that day on my run (they made the prison uniform fabric).
Since then the kids and I spent a day traveling back to Zanzibar. When we were flying into one of our transfer points I feel such a familiar comfort at being back in the landscape of Tanzania. We are now just enjoying ourselves on the beach.
Here is what some of the kid's schooling has been the last few days:
Finishing a book (I read it out loud and we've been talking about it) that is part of a set they read at school in Uganda about a Ugandan boy, Moses, and his adventures with his classmates at his boarding school. Next we will start a book by Chinua Achebe. He is supposed to be a very well known African writer.
We learned the Arabic words and the translation, to the call to prayer.
The boys have discovered how to make rock hard balls of sand that stay for longer than a day, make them elaborate tracts to roll on through tunnels (of sand), made them buried storage areas that have 'survived' the tides and been dug up.
We have looked in the sea grass bed (not where we spent time looking last time) and have found new things we didn't see last time. My feet are a bit worse off for it but it's worth it.
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