Enough with the vacation already...
I'm suffering from that peculiar phenomenon that occurs after a vacation's been over for a few weeks and the old familiar routines have set in; by this point my travels feel like they took place 100 years ago, and thus writing about them...well, it feels like recording ancient history. Not that there's a whole lot left at this point. Suffice to say, Zanzibar was beautiful, the beaches were amazing, the beer was cold (I could dig into my bag of cliches to find some metaphors to go with those descriptions, but if you want bad comparisons you don't need my blog; a typical romance will serve you just as well.) It was probably the most relaxed part of the vacation- necessarily as Jason had the bad taste to pick up malaria en route (although it should be noted that he was probably the most stoic case of malaria ever... the way he acted you would've thought he had a slight cold, maybe a mild case of indigestion, right up until he said that we should probably go to the hospital. Rest assured, had I come down with malaria, far, far more drama would've ensued. hopefully involving helicopters and AK's. there's time for that yet though...)
Now, back to real life...We're suffering from drought here; it's the third year in a row that that rainy season has failed to yield rain and the crops are withering, burning, in the fields. It's rained 3 (count 'em) 3 times so far since November when the rains were supposed to start and even today, with its low hanging clouds and dark horizon, will undoubtedly end in nothing more than wind and dust. A cow dropped dead a few neighbors over, and already prices are jumping in Dar for the most basic foods, like rice. It's hard to watch to say the least. People here attribute it to climate change, and even very young children know of things like "greenhouse gases" and the Kyoto accords. The growing belief at school is that global warming is behind the lack of rains and regardless of whether or not they are right, it should be a real wake-up call for the people of the west to know that Africa's next generation isn't going to be blaming the ancestors, or the spirits, or even God for their ruined environment. No, they know exactly where to point the finger (or they will after I teach tomorrow's lesson in Biology.)
Soapbox aside, most other things are great, if a trifle on the uneventful side. A typical day finds me waking around 5:30, puttering around the house, watering the flowers, etc. until 7:15 when I start the 20 minute walk to work. Mornings are lovely here, very cool and easy on the eyes, inevitably filled with small children in neat blue and khaki uniforms rushing and pushing before falling still when I pass (silent save for a murmured "Shikamoo?" to which I give a magnanimous "Marahaba"- literally translated as "I hold your feet" and "Delightful!" ahhh, those silly arabs, holding other people's feet.) School is always excellent; I love most of the other teachers, who are kind enough to gossip in English so I can join in. Classes are still a laugh (80 students in one room! yes!) but they should get better/more productive when the classroom construction/refurbishment finishes next week and we get to spread out a little. Around 3 I knock off and usually head into town to drink chai at my favorite down-at-the-heels Indian-run joint, Naureen's Cafe. The chai (tea) here is a dentist's nightmare- scalding hot and chock full of sugar, milk, cardemum, etc. Despite having enough suger to induce diabetic shock, it's strangely addictive and keeps me buzzing long enough to get a few hours of work in at the internet cafe on the grants I'm applying for. Being a confirmed agnostic, it's odd the sort of superstitious apprehension I get even mentioning the word "grant" on here. It's counting my chickens before they hatch, putting the cart before the horse, and hence dooming the proposals to failure if I start talking about the details too early. I'm not trying to be coy or deliberately mysterious about how I spend 2+ hours of every days its just...well, I'm sure you'll all hear about it plenty when I succeed. It's kinda like how I don't think I'd ever call myself (or admit to) being a writer until I have something published; anything said before that is premature (and undoubtedly jinxing future efforts to failure.) So yeah, after the typing, it's back to the ranch, and more specifically the kitchen, where I cook, clean, read, visit with neighbors, etc. until the mosquitos finally drive me into the confines of my nets. Yep, so goes life in paradise. Weekends are alternately more exciting and more lazy; my friend Dan (a peace corp vol. a few villages over) usually comes in to visit and we occupy our time in a myriad of ways- yesterday we decided we wanted to be on vacation again so we spent 8 hours hanging out around the Dodoma Hotel (almost the same thing...although none of the places I stayed over break boasted a pool) before he found (joy of joys) a hole-in-the-wall that boasted not only a playstation, but also "Driver" and "Grand Theft Auto- San Andreas." And you thought I spent all my time sorting rice and tilling the fields by hand...okay, more soon!
kt
Now, back to real life...We're suffering from drought here; it's the third year in a row that that rainy season has failed to yield rain and the crops are withering, burning, in the fields. It's rained 3 (count 'em) 3 times so far since November when the rains were supposed to start and even today, with its low hanging clouds and dark horizon, will undoubtedly end in nothing more than wind and dust. A cow dropped dead a few neighbors over, and already prices are jumping in Dar for the most basic foods, like rice. It's hard to watch to say the least. People here attribute it to climate change, and even very young children know of things like "greenhouse gases" and the Kyoto accords. The growing belief at school is that global warming is behind the lack of rains and regardless of whether or not they are right, it should be a real wake-up call for the people of the west to know that Africa's next generation isn't going to be blaming the ancestors, or the spirits, or even God for their ruined environment. No, they know exactly where to point the finger (or they will after I teach tomorrow's lesson in Biology.)
Soapbox aside, most other things are great, if a trifle on the uneventful side. A typical day finds me waking around 5:30, puttering around the house, watering the flowers, etc. until 7:15 when I start the 20 minute walk to work. Mornings are lovely here, very cool and easy on the eyes, inevitably filled with small children in neat blue and khaki uniforms rushing and pushing before falling still when I pass (silent save for a murmured "Shikamoo?" to which I give a magnanimous "Marahaba"- literally translated as "I hold your feet" and "Delightful!" ahhh, those silly arabs, holding other people's feet.) School is always excellent; I love most of the other teachers, who are kind enough to gossip in English so I can join in. Classes are still a laugh (80 students in one room! yes!) but they should get better/more productive when the classroom construction/refurbishment finishes next week and we get to spread out a little. Around 3 I knock off and usually head into town to drink chai at my favorite down-at-the-heels Indian-run joint, Naureen's Cafe. The chai (tea) here is a dentist's nightmare- scalding hot and chock full of sugar, milk, cardemum, etc. Despite having enough suger to induce diabetic shock, it's strangely addictive and keeps me buzzing long enough to get a few hours of work in at the internet cafe on the grants I'm applying for. Being a confirmed agnostic, it's odd the sort of superstitious apprehension I get even mentioning the word "grant" on here. It's counting my chickens before they hatch, putting the cart before the horse, and hence dooming the proposals to failure if I start talking about the details too early. I'm not trying to be coy or deliberately mysterious about how I spend 2+ hours of every days its just...well, I'm sure you'll all hear about it plenty when I succeed. It's kinda like how I don't think I'd ever call myself (or admit to) being a writer until I have something published; anything said before that is premature (and undoubtedly jinxing future efforts to failure.) So yeah, after the typing, it's back to the ranch, and more specifically the kitchen, where I cook, clean, read, visit with neighbors, etc. until the mosquitos finally drive me into the confines of my nets. Yep, so goes life in paradise. Weekends are alternately more exciting and more lazy; my friend Dan (a peace corp vol. a few villages over) usually comes in to visit and we occupy our time in a myriad of ways- yesterday we decided we wanted to be on vacation again so we spent 8 hours hanging out around the Dodoma Hotel (almost the same thing...although none of the places I stayed over break boasted a pool) before he found (joy of joys) a hole-in-the-wall that boasted not only a playstation, but also "Driver" and "Grand Theft Auto- San Andreas." And you thought I spent all my time sorting rice and tilling the fields by hand...okay, more soon!
kt
posted by Katie at 1:38 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home