12/2 Discovering that Jean and Marv own a digital projector, I decided to show my students a bit of the BBC production, Blue Planet (also Jean and Marv’s). We’re studying oceans in geography and I thought they’d enjoy the visual. Only two of 60 girls have ever seen the ocean though they live in a coastal nation. Travel, even a one day bus ride, has not been their experience.
We gathered in the dining hall where I had my computer set up with all the gizmos. That in itself was quite interesting for these technology deprived girls (lucky them!) Amazingly the power stayed on for the entire evening. I turned on the projector and the first image showed up large on the wall, the face of a female lion – big brown eyes, whiskers and teeth, covered on one side by all the little program icons of my desktop. “Ooh wee!” the shouting began immediately. “What is it?!?”
At first I laughed at them, but then realized that many of them were truly unable to identify the image as ‘lion.’ These young Maasai women who have lived their lives in the heart of lion country have either never seen a lion – that’s what Maasai men are for – protecting the bomas from lions so the women and children don’t ever have to see them – or they have seen a real lion, but are not able to conceptually translate a two dimensional photograph taken with a high resolution zoom lens into the real thing. And all those little Microsoft doo dads made it more confusing, I’m sure.
They asked if I wasn’t afraid, sitting so near to the simba. “No,” I laughed, and reached up to pet the kitty – scratching behind its ears. The next thing I knew they were all parading to the wall, gingerly reaching out a finger to touch a tooth or an eye lash, squealing with feigned fear and true delight, running back to their places with their hands over their faces – the familiar gesture of embarrassment.
I was almost afraid to proceed with the Deep Oceans if a little ol’ lion could cause this much stir!
But we did proceed with an hour of Blue Planet and the excitement never waned. Whales, turtles, crabs, squid, waves, fish that make light, schools of herring… David Attenborough’s narration was never heard over the groaning and squealing as one amazement followed another. I asked them the next day if they’d had bad dreams, but in the light of day they denied any fear. The pure embodiment of sophistication…
12/1 A sunrise walk down from the school and out to the “Big Ditch” takes me past a mud and stick hut from which is blaring Radio Tanzania, run on four D batteries, no doubt. I approach the hut to pass, expecting the static to formulate into Swahili morning news but am surprised as instead the words become English and the voice resolves into that of my new president, giving his justly praised acceptance speech, now nearly a month past the election. I feel pride as the Mama of the house gives a friendly wave to one of the token American’s in Monduli, our status here recently elevated.
11/29 The day we celebrated Thanksgiving this year (Saturday after) was an appropriately traditional hodge podge gathering. The four of us were joined by Jean and Marvin – American Lutheran missionaries here in Monduli, our good ex-pat, development worker friends Kees (Dutch), Trish (American) and their daughter Laura (adopted from Romania), and some of my old friend Nakaji’s children. Nakaji was in Mbuyuni visiting her mother that day, but she sent Junior – her son who was 5 when I left here in ’96, now 17, her older son Jimmy and his wife and their 1 yr old daughter. It felt like a nice cross section of “our people” here. Eric roasted two chickens and Trish brought an honest to goodness turkey breast. We had mashed potatoes and squash, gravy, stuffing, grilled egg plant and green pepper (pilipili hoho in Swahili – everyone should know that), mango chutney, corn, nice wine and apple pie. I was amazed at the labor intensity of an apple pie without my pre-measured butter and food processor for the crust or my apple peeler/corer for the filling. The gas ran out on the stove part way through the baking, so it ended up in the oven for over two hours, but we ate it anyway! Of course we talked about Native Americans and generosity and gratitude in general and the day was fine. It was even rainy and foggy most of the day, so if you didn’t feel the temperature or texture of the air, it was almost like fall in the Northwest. A few of us sat around the table until after the candles had burned down to nubs, sipping brandy and nibbling dark chocolate from The States. We thought of friends and family far away and all spent the following day in a slight homesickness funk.
11/27 Instead of Thanksgiving, November 27th here was the day of Neema Ndooki’s “Send Off” celebration. Neema was a student in our first class at the Girls’ School. I remember fondly going out to her boma and interviewing her with a small group of others and their Standard 7 teacher almost fifteen years ago. She was so shy, but eager to enter secondary school. Her boma, out from Kisongo at Moita Bawani, on the edge of the Simanjiro Plain, was traditional and dry. I had been there once before on a maize distribution trip during drought time. Her father and his wives and many children were all there to meet us and seemed almost supportive of Neema’s education. Since then, much has happened in Neema’s life, including college and ordainment as a minister as well as a difficult breach with her father and more recently her engagement to a man from Moshi, also a minister. She acted as chaplain here at the school for two years, but has gone back to get a master’s degree at Makumira University this year. She is tall, beautiful and strong, as well as a little bit opinionated!
A “send off” is the bride’s family’s pre-wedding celebration, a big party to officially “send her over” to the husband’s family. Selina Rotiken, another student from that same class (who attended university in The States and returned to marry a man from her home village and is now teaching English at Maasae Girls) sat with her up front until the hand over took place. Though the party was in a fancy hotel in Arusha, the young women were dressed in traditional Maasai wedding attire. Beautiful! Five other former students were there, amazingly grown up and successful in their lives, all married with children. It was a treat to see them again. It wasn’t long ago that they were being adamantly told that they would never be able to marry. Of course they would be too old and too educated when they finished, no one would want them. Ha!
11/26 Listening to Claire and Stella play “Dinner Party” as I did the dishes today I was brought into close contact with my girl friends back home. So many of their phrases and general hospitality were quoted to the make believe guests by my daughters. I’ll recount a few of the lines that I can recall, but there were plenty more…
“I’d like to thank you all for coming and to tell you how honored we feel that you are here.”
“This is such a special day and we’d like to honor Red Bear on his birthday.”
“Please, feel free to eat. There’s plenty of food here and more in the kitchen!”
“It makes us so happy to be joined with friends on this special day…”
“Please, won’t you have another piece of pie?”
“You are all very important to us and we are so glad that you have come…”
It went on and on like that! I kept my chuckles to myself, but write these quotes now with gratitude for you who teach Claire and Stella all about “honoring” one another. Many thanks!
And a few of the absurdities of life here that keep us guessing…
· Electricity is sporadic. It goes out most nights just as the sun sets and comes back on moments after we fall asleep – lights glaring throughout the once dark house. Still it is amazing that we have enough that our refridgerator/freezer are completely viable. Water in the pipes has been even more inconsistent. There is no shortage of water coming down from the sky these days, washing away roads and top soil, our height increased by inches as we walk about in the mud, but just try to get some to come out of the shower or sink! The everywhere green is beautiful though.
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As we were driving home from Arusha the other night after dark, blinded by oncoming headlights on an all too narrow road, Eric yelled and I screech/swerved (somehow) around a long line of military trainees – out for a lively night hike down the left lane of the highway, completely oblivious to the possible effects of a Land Rover travelling at 60 km/hr. on the unarmoured human body.
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To enter school now in the rainy season you have to slip and slide your way down a steep embankment, grabbing hold of the rock wall at the bottom to regain your balance and then tip toe across small stones set in the deep puddles, leaping finally to the safety of a slick, muddy landing. Good Luck. And don’t forget, you’re wearing a dress and your good teaching shoes, carrying a bookbag and often a computer. The fundis building the two classrooms on campus don’t seem to have cement or time to spare to deal with this less than welcoming situation.
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We have a new donkey in our yard. Apparently it’s an old donkey, actually. The story says that it has shown up here, unattended, during the rains when the grass is new, for going on 12 years. It fattens up for a few weeks and then disappears again. We’ll see. I find it a little disconcerting, but I can’t really say why. AAJ
