Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Wednesday, Dec 22
Well, things have not been dull.
Gertrude died, poor thing. Monday morning I was working at my desk, Hason was in the kitchen washing dishes and Gertrude was clucking around just outside the courtyard. Suddenly she came squawking and flapping into the courtyard, running in circles and into the walls, feathers flying everywhere. Finally she stopped suddenly and squatted, panting and looking very frightened. Yes, a chicken can look frightened. I picked her up and she was trembling and seemed disoriented. Then she began going into convulsions and within ten minutes, was dead. It brought to mind the way my dog Skippy died in my arms of convulsions after he got into the rat poison, when I was eight or so.
Hason felt it had to be a snakebite, and Paul concurred when he got there. We found marks on her leg that seemed to confirm it. Strange. For all my bike riding and hiking, I have yet to see my first snake in Africa. Still, my friends talk about how many there are everywhere. If they are here, and I guess they sure are, a lot of them are really nasty. Spitting cobras and mombos and vipers and who know what else.
My Project to teach students how to start and run a small business is moving along. VETA, Mwanza and Nsumba are enthusiastic. I’ve been trying to recruit Ngonza as well, but have had trouble getting an appointment with the Headmistress. TechnoServe might only be able to supply half the books we need though, and they want us to send our trainers to Dar es Salaam for a training course, which is almost prohibitively expensive for us. But these are good problems to be working on.
Meanwhile, my house is full and more. PCVs have been collecting here, before we all take the ferry to Bukoba tomorrow night. Patty is here from Kilimanjaro, Charlie from Zanzibar, Mike from Mufindi, Rich from Morogoro, Matt from Hanang, and Caitlin from Singida. There are the usual horror stories of overcrowded buses and breakdowns of busses in godforsaken places. We got word that Charles from Songea got to town last night, but he isn’t here yet so I guess he stayed in a guest house overnight. I ran out of soft things to sleep on – chair pillows and stuff – and the extra mattresses I requested from the school never showed up, so some of them are sleeping on blankets on the floor. Ouch. It will surely be the same thing in Bukoba, but I will have my tent and Thermorest for my own comfort.
I got compliments on my scrambled eggs and toast yesterday morning, but they took over the dinner, and we had great soup, grilled cheese sandwiches (!) and fresh mixed fruit, with chocolate chip cookies from the U-turn Market for dessert.
Last night we went up to the Retreat to watch the sunset. It was spectacular. There was a lot of chatter and conversation on the hike up the hill, as there has been throughout, with this reunion of good friends. But it was amazing how, when we moved out on that big hilltop rock in the immensity of the green vista with the wide orange fire where the sun had been, a hush fell over the group. We all kind of moved apart, and sat for a long time, silently watching the sunset and the green expanse fade into black, meditating, just being. For me, it was a chance to begin to process the disappointment and frustration of London. Then we slowly got up one by one and moved off, still not talking until after we had left the scene. It is a very special place that I have, here in Africa.
The word on the overnight ferry, though, is that all the first and second class sleeping compartments are long gone. They have 109 spots in the 3rd class seating area, then 900 open 3rd class slots, first come first served on the day of departure (tomorrow). So we will have to send a couple of people to stand in line well before they open the ticket window to be sure we can even get on the boat.
I just received a wonderful Christmas card with family news from Arlene. Hand delivered by the Postmaster – THAT is something that doesn’t happen much in the US! It is good to be remembered and get cards with news. Emails are great and immediate, but have this mechanical, “processed” feel about them.
Well, things have not been dull.
Gertrude died, poor thing. Monday morning I was working at my desk, Hason was in the kitchen washing dishes and Gertrude was clucking around just outside the courtyard. Suddenly she came squawking and flapping into the courtyard, running in circles and into the walls, feathers flying everywhere. Finally she stopped suddenly and squatted, panting and looking very frightened. Yes, a chicken can look frightened. I picked her up and she was trembling and seemed disoriented. Then she began going into convulsions and within ten minutes, was dead. It brought to mind the way my dog Skippy died in my arms of convulsions after he got into the rat poison, when I was eight or so.
Hason felt it had to be a snakebite, and Paul concurred when he got there. We found marks on her leg that seemed to confirm it. Strange. For all my bike riding and hiking, I have yet to see my first snake in Africa. Still, my friends talk about how many there are everywhere. If they are here, and I guess they sure are, a lot of them are really nasty. Spitting cobras and mombos and vipers and who know what else.
My Project to teach students how to start and run a small business is moving along. VETA, Mwanza and Nsumba are enthusiastic. I’ve been trying to recruit Ngonza as well, but have had trouble getting an appointment with the Headmistress. TechnoServe might only be able to supply half the books we need though, and they want us to send our trainers to Dar es Salaam for a training course, which is almost prohibitively expensive for us. But these are good problems to be working on.
Meanwhile, my house is full and more. PCVs have been collecting here, before we all take the ferry to Bukoba tomorrow night. Patty is here from Kilimanjaro, Charlie from Zanzibar, Mike from Mufindi, Rich from Morogoro, Matt from Hanang, and Caitlin from Singida. There are the usual horror stories of overcrowded buses and breakdowns of busses in godforsaken places. We got word that Charles from Songea got to town last night, but he isn’t here yet so I guess he stayed in a guest house overnight. I ran out of soft things to sleep on – chair pillows and stuff – and the extra mattresses I requested from the school never showed up, so some of them are sleeping on blankets on the floor. Ouch. It will surely be the same thing in Bukoba, but I will have my tent and Thermorest for my own comfort.
I got compliments on my scrambled eggs and toast yesterday morning, but they took over the dinner, and we had great soup, grilled cheese sandwiches (!) and fresh mixed fruit, with chocolate chip cookies from the U-turn Market for dessert.
Last night we went up to the Retreat to watch the sunset. It was spectacular. There was a lot of chatter and conversation on the hike up the hill, as there has been throughout, with this reunion of good friends. But it was amazing how, when we moved out on that big hilltop rock in the immensity of the green vista with the wide orange fire where the sun had been, a hush fell over the group. We all kind of moved apart, and sat for a long time, silently watching the sunset and the green expanse fade into black, meditating, just being. For me, it was a chance to begin to process the disappointment and frustration of London. Then we slowly got up one by one and moved off, still not talking until after we had left the scene. It is a very special place that I have, here in Africa.
The word on the overnight ferry, though, is that all the first and second class sleeping compartments are long gone. They have 109 spots in the 3rd class seating area, then 900 open 3rd class slots, first come first served on the day of departure (tomorrow). So we will have to send a couple of people to stand in line well before they open the ticket window to be sure we can even get on the boat.
I just received a wonderful Christmas card with family news from Arlene. Hand delivered by the Postmaster – THAT is something that doesn’t happen much in the US! It is good to be remembered and get cards with news. Emails are great and immediate, but have this mechanical, “processed” feel about them.
