Monday, November 01, 2004
Sunday, October 31
I went up to the Retreat tonight to watch the sunset as I often do, especially when I want to think or be by myself or just take my mind off things. It was a little cloudy, but the valley is emerald again after these brown, dry months. A week of rain and the world is green. I couldn't quite enjoy the experience this evening, though. The day and its problems were just too much with me.
The day had begun well enough. I had a 10:00 appointment downtown with Francis, my Kenyan friend and computer guru. My computer has been bulky lately and I had asked him to work on it for me.
I got downtown about an hour early. The Hindu Temple was open, so I invited myself in. As the signs suggested I took off my shoes, and then entered. The temple was beautiful, with sparkling tile floor, mostly covered with mats, a natural wood ceiling with carved trim, an impressive alter. Women were sitting cross-legged on one side, men on the other, and they motioned that I was invited to join the men. So I did. Of course I could not understand a word, but since it wasn't Kiswahili I didn't feel any guilt about that. The leader was chanting from a holy book, sounding rather like a Jewish Cantor, but his actions were more reminiscent of a Priest performing the Mass. Periodically there was some bowing, or standing. Later, tissues were handed out and then a man came around giving everyone a delicious-smelling honey confection. I declined that, thinking that if it was something like a communion wafer, then I had no business partaking of it. But overall, I really liked the feeling of holiness and sanctity in the space, and the focused sharing of a significant religious experience. I used the opportunity to meditate and think, and that felt good.
Afterwards the congregation retired to a downstairs room for food. A young man introduced himself - he was visiting Tanzania after graduating high school in Queens, New York City. I was invited and encouraged to join everybody for the food, but since I had just had a big breakfast and it was past time to meet my computer guru, I declined. But now that I have tried this once, I think would like to go back again. Probably will.
Then, on to my computer guru. Ouch. Apparently we had had a serious miscommunication. He had saved a few of my recent documents, then reformatted my hard disk and re-installed a few programs. The worst possible calamity! All my files and history, lost. Messages with Myrna, my Peace Corps history, all my photographs, my files of names and addresses, reports, grades and attendance records for my classes, lesson plans, correspondence and files about my economic empowerment efforts, Spanish fonts, everything. Even my files of pornography!
I thought he had said he was going to back up my disk before he did stuff, but that obviously didn't happen. And my last backup (incomplete) was August 2003. I didn't know whether to be more angry at him for what he had done or at myself for my naivety and stupidity.
I left to ride back to Nsumba to get the few reinstallation disks I had. When I got back, he had downloaded a demonstration program to recover lost files after reformatting a disk, and it had already found some 5,000 files. It worked on for three hours, and finally assembled some 7,000 files - which I think is about right for what was on the hard disk. So it looks like we might be able to recover from the disaster fairly well.
However, since the program was only a demonstration to show what it could do, it wouldn't allow the actual recovery of files until you pay about $50 to buy the program. Now, $50 is a huge amount of money in Tanzania, but hey, no choice about this. But when we tried to buy the program, we got a message that told us: "Sorry, we do not sell this program in your country."
So that is my computer status at the moment. I've sent an emergency message to Dan Franceski in Philadelphia asking him to buy the program for me and send it here ASAP, either electronically or by courier.
After all this, when I went outside to ride home on my bike, I had a flat tire. Not the best of days, today.
I went up to the Retreat tonight to watch the sunset as I often do, especially when I want to think or be by myself or just take my mind off things. It was a little cloudy, but the valley is emerald again after these brown, dry months. A week of rain and the world is green. I couldn't quite enjoy the experience this evening, though. The day and its problems were just too much with me.
The day had begun well enough. I had a 10:00 appointment downtown with Francis, my Kenyan friend and computer guru. My computer has been bulky lately and I had asked him to work on it for me.
I got downtown about an hour early. The Hindu Temple was open, so I invited myself in. As the signs suggested I took off my shoes, and then entered. The temple was beautiful, with sparkling tile floor, mostly covered with mats, a natural wood ceiling with carved trim, an impressive alter. Women were sitting cross-legged on one side, men on the other, and they motioned that I was invited to join the men. So I did. Of course I could not understand a word, but since it wasn't Kiswahili I didn't feel any guilt about that. The leader was chanting from a holy book, sounding rather like a Jewish Cantor, but his actions were more reminiscent of a Priest performing the Mass. Periodically there was some bowing, or standing. Later, tissues were handed out and then a man came around giving everyone a delicious-smelling honey confection. I declined that, thinking that if it was something like a communion wafer, then I had no business partaking of it. But overall, I really liked the feeling of holiness and sanctity in the space, and the focused sharing of a significant religious experience. I used the opportunity to meditate and think, and that felt good.
Afterwards the congregation retired to a downstairs room for food. A young man introduced himself - he was visiting Tanzania after graduating high school in Queens, New York City. I was invited and encouraged to join everybody for the food, but since I had just had a big breakfast and it was past time to meet my computer guru, I declined. But now that I have tried this once, I think would like to go back again. Probably will.
Then, on to my computer guru. Ouch. Apparently we had had a serious miscommunication. He had saved a few of my recent documents, then reformatted my hard disk and re-installed a few programs. The worst possible calamity! All my files and history, lost. Messages with Myrna, my Peace Corps history, all my photographs, my files of names and addresses, reports, grades and attendance records for my classes, lesson plans, correspondence and files about my economic empowerment efforts, Spanish fonts, everything. Even my files of pornography!
I thought he had said he was going to back up my disk before he did stuff, but that obviously didn't happen. And my last backup (incomplete) was August 2003. I didn't know whether to be more angry at him for what he had done or at myself for my naivety and stupidity.
I left to ride back to Nsumba to get the few reinstallation disks I had. When I got back, he had downloaded a demonstration program to recover lost files after reformatting a disk, and it had already found some 5,000 files. It worked on for three hours, and finally assembled some 7,000 files - which I think is about right for what was on the hard disk. So it looks like we might be able to recover from the disaster fairly well.
However, since the program was only a demonstration to show what it could do, it wouldn't allow the actual recovery of files until you pay about $50 to buy the program. Now, $50 is a huge amount of money in Tanzania, but hey, no choice about this. But when we tried to buy the program, we got a message that told us: "Sorry, we do not sell this program in your country."
So that is my computer status at the moment. I've sent an emergency message to Dan Franceski in Philadelphia asking him to buy the program for me and send it here ASAP, either electronically or by courier.
After all this, when I went outside to ride home on my bike, I had a flat tire. Not the best of days, today.
