When it Rains...

I can pinpoint the exact moment when my fortunes here started to decline. It was almost two weeks ago now, at 7:08 am on Superbowl Sunday. I was cramming myself onto a minibus, and coming to the dawning realization that I would be standing for the trip to Mikindani. Now I've had to stand on public transportation lots of times, (just try finding a seat on NY's downtown 6 train during the morning rush) but never for 6 hours, pressed up on all sides against sweating bodies with one lone, frail-looking ceiling rail for support, and roughly 8 square inches of windshield in view for entertainment. Not that this bothered me; it was Superbowl Sunday! The Colts were playing the Bears! And far from being miserable at the fantastically uncomfortable situation I'd gotten myself into, (I mean who need to have both their legs awake at the same time, right?) I instead followed the advice of the innumerable nuns of childhood and offered it up...on the Bears behalf (sort of like making a donation in someone's name, I figured.) I reasoned that when He saw my selfless suffering, His limitless sympathy would doubtless be invoked, and He would turn his merciful, all powerful face towards the Bears, and bestow on them His divine favor.

That was the idea, anyway. I won't dwell on the aftermath. 6:30 a.m. Monday saw me closing my tab at the bar, watching the final, disheartening seconds of Superbowl 41, and inwardly wincing at all the text messages that would be arriving in a few hours ("So, how did it go? Did your team win?!) By 7 am I was sitting at the bus stand, staring out over the Indian Ocean, contemplating the upcoming afternoon of work ahead, and feeling quite sorry for my companions who had stayed up to watch it with me, and now had less than an hour to change and wake up before heading off to their respective jobs (how's that for friendship by the way- Philip's British and Tariq's Canadian and they both stayed up all night watching it with me, despite the fact that they couldn't give a fig for American Football. I owe them, though Tariq's already hinted that I might have to sit though the Stanley Cup finals...)

And as the old saying goes, when it rains, it pours. Tuesday morning I came down with a nasty headcold which kept me in bed until Thursday, though I still have a rattling cough as a more or less perminent keepsake. Thursday evening, still looking pathetic, my boss broke it to me that the house that I was supposed to be moving to in Mwena was instead going to be his house; I would continue the occupy the room in the guesthouse that I've been in for the last month. Imagine living for 6 months in your local Motel 6 and you'll get an idea of how I mentally responded to this proposal. This same headmaster (who's really a lovely, lovely man despite the heck I'm giving him here) also decided that the teachers weren't really interested in developing their English skills further, thus instead of doing the job outlined in my placement description, I'd be in charge of "flowers and all-around beautification" of the school campus, as well as filling in for teachers when they fell sick/didn't show up for classes (How does it feel to be the most qualified substitute teacher in all of Tanzania, you ask? "Swell!" I say.) On top of this, the rain has been pouring for over a week straight now and any hope I had of saving my only pair of tennis shoes (New Balance- worth half a month's salary) has officially ended, as nothing- not my hair, not the floor of my bathroom, and most definitely not my shoes- dries in this climate.

Okay, so I'm a bit cranky today; that whole wrong-side-of-the-bed thing. There have been some good developments of late as well. My boss is proving amenable to letting me teach some evening English classes to students, and I might even get to take 4 periods of Math or so a week, so as to help the Academic Master who has his hands full teaching all the science classes. The kids are lovely, as always, and I had a really nice weekend when my friend Tariq came out to visit. The best part was on Sunday night when we had to walk to Miami Beach, the only bar in the area serving food at that hour, in the middle of a ferocious rainstorm. The thunder was echoing around in the hills, the landscape pitch black, save for the lightning strikes which would suddenly coax color and texture out of the surrounding darkness. It was amazing, really. You'd be stubbling along, trying to stay on the path, gripping your pathetically inadequate umbrella, when a light would flash and for just a split-second the world would open up- you'd suddenly see the glistening red dirt beneath your shoes, the wildly colored blossoms- crimson, fuschia, glowing and slick with water against the deep green foliage. An instant later, it was dark again and you'd be half-wondering if you'd seen anything or just imagined it all up.

More soon...I have to be in Dar for a conference next week, and I have high hopes of catching up on emails then. Love to all!

Katie