Week 6

Safari – I went with the Village Life June Brigade on a 3-day Safari last week through the Serengeti and Masai Mara. It was incredible! Within the first 2-hours of the safari we saw pretty much every animal imaginable: lions, cheetahs, elephants, giraffes, zebras, hippos, rhinos, crocodiles, etc. It was simply awesome! The next 2 days were as good as the first as we did sunrise and sunset safaris every day and got to enjoy watching thousands of animals in their natural habitat, while also enjoying the incredible beauty and majesty of the East African landscape. 

Safari Resort! – During our time on Safari we stayed at the Simba Lodge in the Masai Mara. After 5 weeks in Shirati, this place blew me away! We always had electricity, TV, a pool, hot water and SO MUCH FOOD!!! The food was all-you-can-eat 3 times daily and it was varied and delicious. I was so happy to be in this place that I debated skipping some safaris to just lay down, relax and enjoy the amenities. I’m glad I didn’t end up doing that as being on Safari is a unique lifetime experience, but staying in this resort after 5-weeks in Shirati was a huge compliment and boost to my trip. 

The Masai Tribe – While in the Masai Mara, the group did an optional trip to visit a Masai Village. While most stayed back to relax, I decided to go on it for the cultural and educational experience, and boy am I glad that I did! The son of the Village Chief was there waiting to greet us and he gave us a complete 2-hour tour explaining their practices and traditions in detail, welcoming us to homes and answering any questions we had in the process. Our arrival was marked by a celebratory welcome dance that is performed by village warriors. The dance was intense and included a jumping competition. The warrior that jumps the highest in the competition has the first right to try to stab a lion the next time they go hunting one. Part of the welcoming dance also included a segment where the welcoming party’s chief must be honored and dance with them. Well our “chiefs” had all done this tour in years prior and decided not to join us, this left me as the eldest in the group and as the “Village Life chief” for this ceremony. I had the skin from a lion’s head put on me and was given the bone of an elephant to use as a guiding stick. I danced with the warriors and was properly greeted (although my jump height measured to maybe a fifth of theirs) before others in the group also joined in and danced with them. At the end of the ceremony, they offered me a drink as the final part of the welcome. The drink was a mixture of goat milk and cow blood, an honored and expensive treat for the Masai people.   

Nairobi – Being in Nairobi was awesome. The villages where I work in call Shirati “the big city” but clearly I wouldn’t refer to it as such. Now Nairobi, on the other hand, that’s a big city! It was awesome to get to enjoy the luxuries that I’m used to in life, but to really appreciate them after having spent so long removed from them. I enjoyed going to the supermarket like I never had before. Walking into a mall felt surreal. Going to restaurants was an incredible treat. I also enjoyed the Nairobi National Museum, one of the most important archeological museums in the world where some of the earliest human fossils are found, and had a great time just seeing the city. But as Newton said, “for every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction”. For all the good that Nairobi has in comparison to Shirati, there is also some bad. Traffic is intense and one point I was stuck in it without barely moving for over an hour. The crime rate there is also high and one of the students with the group I’m with had his wallet and money stolen on our last day in town. Finally, Nairobi is home to some of the largest slums in the world. Coming from Rio de Janeiro, I’m familiar with large slums; but it was sad to see another city that is so socioeconomically divided. Overall though, I had an amazing time in Nairobi. I loved the city and it was a great break from my time in the little “big city” of Shirati.  

The Resort/Nairobi Diet – As I mentioned in last week’s post, the Shirati Diet has not been too good to me. Unwillingly losing at one time 7 pounds here was not ideal. While I was happy to regain some of that weight, I was even happier to get out some and have some food that I’m more used to. And that’s exactly what I was able to do in this trip. Both in the resort and in Nairobi, I ate, ate, and ate some more. I could not stop eating. Normally, my friends back home make fun of me for how little and how slowly I eat. For the first time in my life, my friends here were making fun of me for how fast and how much I was eating. It was incredible. My first night in the resort, I had 3 full plates for dinner, followed by 2 plates of dessert. My first night in Nairobi, I had a double-bacon cheeseburger with fries and a milkshake for dinner, followed by a 2-scoop sundae over a brownie for dessert. I must say I even disgusted myself, but with 4 more weeks left in Shirati, I wasn’t about to stop. In all, I’m happy to say I am back to the weight I was when I left Little Rock 6 weeks ago. And it was delicious getting there!   

Movie Theater – One of the biggest urges I had while in Nairobi was to go see a movie. I really wanted to find a movie theater and watch something; I didn’t even care what. Luckily, the mall that I went to with the Village Life group had a movie theater on the top floor so I jumped at the opportunity. I was even more thrilled to find out the movie that was playing was one I had a decent urge to see (Pirates of the Caribbean 4), that it was in 3D, and that the movie theater was a 2-story mega movie theater. I could not have been happier or more excited to wait 2-hours for the movie start time. I even went into the theater a full 45-minutes early since I was so excited. Well the time came, and went. No one else was in there with me and 10-minutes after the movie’s start time the manager came in to tell me that because no one else showed up it wasn’t worth it for them to run the movie just for me. He gave me a refund and made me the most disappointed man in Kenya.

Spencer Arrives – The day after Village Life departed back to the U.S. I received a new companion. Spencer Lucker, a classmate of mine, arrived to join me for my last month here in Shirati. He will be working in a different project with Village Life in Roche. I was with a driver and went to pick Spencer up at a friend’s house. When we got there, Spencer was standing outside but I didn’t recognize him and told the driver to keep going. I was looking for my long haired blond friend and seeing a bald kid didn’t make me think twice in ignoring him. A friend of mine in the car said “is your friend bald?” I said “definitely not. He has long blond hair, he’d never take it off”. Well the driver kept going and eventually we circled back to the only mzungu around. “Are you sure he’s not bald?” I decided to look just for the sake of confirming it wasn’t him. To my shock, it was! Spencer shaved off his hair to not have to deal with it hear. I barely recognized him, but nonetheless, I’m glad he’s joined me!

Carnivore – That evening, my Village Life friends who were coming back to Shirati and I decided to go out for a good last meal before heading back. We had heard of a place called Carnivore, a famous meat restaurant in Nairobi that serves exotic meats. We decided to go there and it was another great decision. The restaurant is Brazilian steakhouse style, they come around to your table and serve meat in skewers in an all-you-can eat fashion. The big difference is that the meat they serve is not meat you’d normally find at the market. I had everything from Camel to Giraffe; Gator to Ostrich; and even a pair of Oxen testicles. I must say, of all the things I ate the testicles were by far not the worst in taste. Gator, closely followed by Camel was much worst. The winner, in my opinion, was the Ostrich meatballs and of course, the token Lamb they brought around to give us some stability after our culinary adventuring. The ambience was fun and the food was great!    

Soccer Love – During the 5-days I was gone during this trip my soccer teammates called me no less than 4 times to tell me that they missed me. They called each day just wanting to check up on me, ask how things were going and tell me they missed me. It was really touching and nice of them. Truth is, after spending two hours a day with them, seven days a week, and hanging out with them a whole lot more than that during days I don’t work, I very much missed them too. It’s going to be a tough goodbye in a few weeks…  

Bus Ride – Since there was a group of us going back to Shirati, we decided to take a bus back instead of renting a car, which is a much cheaper option. With cheaper price though, comes more adventure. We got on what we thought was the 6 am bus out of Nairobi. We waited, and waited, and waited sitting on the bus but it didn’t budge. After several hours everyone got up off the bus in unison. We had no clue what was going on. People were yelling and screaming at each other and fist fights broke out. I still have no idea what was going on, but just as suddenly as everyone got out, everyone got back in and the bus finally left. It was 9:30 am. 40-minutes into the trip, still inside the borders of Nairobi, the bus stopped and again everyone got off. This time, there was no indication people were planning on getting back on anytime soon. We eventually found a passenger who spoke English and was able to explain to us what was going on. Turns out there was a police checkpoint a few kilometers down the road and, for reasons we still don’t know, people were scared of going through it. So the bus decided to wait out the police. 3-hours later, we were once again on the road. Despite the crammed environment, and the heavy bumping on the dirt roads, the rest of the trip went relatively smoothly, just 6-and-a-half hours late from what we expected.   

Taxi Ride – The bus didn’t quite stop at the border. It stopped about 20 minutes from it. But once again, everyone got off the bus and only the 4 mzungus were left in it. We soon realized the bus wouldn’t be completing the voyage we hoped and we would have to get to the border through different means. We got on a taxi along with 1 other person from the bus who needed to get to the border. The taxi was a compact Hyundai that could comfortably fit 4 people and with a squeeze could do 5. We squeezed super tight for 6 (us 4, the other passenger and the driver). Then the driver told us we’d have someone else joining us. So we squeezed tighter. But the new passenger actually had a friend who also was planning on joining us. We thought we were off the hook at that point and that the driver would just tell both to wait for some other car. Nope. We had 8 people in the car. 4 people sitting in the front seats (2 in each seat) and 4 people sitting in the back. It was insanely squeezed but for a 20 minute trip, it was worth it for the fun value. We made it to the border, took another taxi to Shirati and finally were back in town. What had been a 7-hour trip the first time I did it with a car, became a 16-hour trip with several confusing and unexpected stops. We were welcomed back to Shirati with 4 straight days without power. Its good to be back… 

Google Reaches Out – I received an email from Google this week informing me that my blog has averaged 400 visitors a week during the past 5 weeks. Wow! They offered to put ads on my blog and pay me for that. While I politely declined the offer as it’s not the direction I want to take with this blog, I was honored to know that so many of you are enjoying reading about my adventures here. Thank you!

Playing Volleyball – My first practice back from my trip was an interesting one. The ball once again flattened after hitting a thorn on our field, and as we waited for our coach to run downtown to have the ball fixed the boys pulled out a cloth ball and decided to play volleyball, using the top bar of the goal as the net. It was hilarious to play volleyball with them because frankly, they were awful! For all the skill they have in soccer where they destroy me, they seem to have very little practice using their hands and arms in an athletic way. After a while, the boys started to use their feet, legs and head (soccer style) almost as much as their hands and arms. Of course, they were MUCH better using their soccer skills and soon the game turned into “futvolley” where they played volleyball using their soccer skills. Now that became a game I could not participate in as the boys dribbled and bounced the ball off each other in expert fashion leaving just starring in amazement. So much for volleyball though. 

Swahili Lessons – In my third week here, when I first started playing with my soccer team, the captain of my team pulled me aside and asked for money to buy a cell phone. He told me of how desperately he wanted this phone and how it would help him in his daily life. The cost: $10. Obviously, I knew that I could afford to give him that money but I struggled deciding how to handle this situation. On the one hand, I wanted to help my new friend. On the other, I didn’t want to start giving things out to people knowing that doing so would lead to hundreds of other requests from everyone in the community. I consulted some friends who were staying with me at the hostel at that time and the suggestion was made that I should hire my friend to do some menial task for me and in return pay him the equivalent cost of getting the phone. I thought it was a brilliant idea and after a few weeks of discussing it with him and figuring out our schedules, this past week I finally started taking “Swahili classes” with him. We meet 3 times a week in our “stadium” and sit on rocks under a tree for an hour as he teaches me useful words and phrases that I might need at the market, at the store or just generally out in public. I’ve learned numbers, animals, how to bargain with prices, how to ask for the bathroom and how to ask if someone has seen my friend. Its been a great deal for both of us as I have been learning, he will soon be getting his phone and we’ve both been having fun and bonding further in the process.  

The Ambulance: An Update – Remember back in Week 2 when we got our first ambulance for the district? In that post, I mentioned that there was still some issues regarding maintenance and who would pay for gas. Well, I’ve recently found out that those issues have not yet quite been resolved. In fact the ambulance has yet to be used. Before it can officially be used, it needs to go through preemptive maintenance in Mwanza (4 hours away). Getting there requires a lot of gas and no money has been found yet to pay for that. Because of this I was amazed at seeing the ambulance roaring up and down the main street here last Friday night with its sirens blazing. I thought the problems had been fixed and it was already busy at work attending to calls. Unfortunately, I found out the next day that this was not quite the case. Rather, a doctor from Shirati Hospital was getting married that evening and he paid for enough gas for the ambulance to make 4 trips up and down the main road wailing its sirens in celebration of his marriage.

More Pictures

After 4 and a half days without power, we got some late last evening and this morning. Rumor is that it'll be a rough week or so for electricity so I figured I'd post some pictures now while I still have battery. Hope you enjoy the pictorial update to my stories! 

Running sprints with my coach and another player after practice. They work me here!

The kids at Nyambogo Primary School going crazy about having their picture taken and then getting to see it 

Batman, Robin and 2 of the rest of their family members before being "taken outside"

After interviewing the elder lady (seen to the left of me) as part of my hut-to-hut surveying, she asked for me to take (and sit in) on a family portrait for her.

Some of my soccer teammates and I doing a fun picture for them to see afterwards. This one was "karate themed".

Week 5

Halfway There – Today marks the exact halfway point of my trip! Its been quite an adventure thus far and I’m happy that you all have been able to follow it with me. Here’s to my next 5 weeks being as interesting, educational and impactful as the last 5!

The Shirati Diet – In the first half of this trip, I’ve unintentionally and unwillingly lost weight. I must say I’ve recovered some recently though. At the peak of my unwanted weight loss I was down 7 pounds (3 weeks into the trip) but fortunately since starting to frequent the pub, get sambosas and drink Coke’s things have gotten better. I’m happy to say I’m only down 4 pounds as of today. For those of you who ARE looking to lose weight though, forget the South Beach or Atkins diet. Come to Shirati…you won’t even have to try!  

Chipsies – While still on this topic, I can tell you of another thing I’ve found to help with my weight regain. It’s called Chipsies and it’s the only food available at the only pub in town. My first time ordering it, I thought it was French fries. Turns out it is, but its cooked with an egg and melted together. The result is an omelet-looking block of food that you eat with a fork. It tastes pretty good, and is definitely another taste of home (or close enough at least) that I’ve found to wet my taste buds when they need it.   

My Visit to Shirati Hospital – A few weeks ago now I visited Shirati Hospital and got a full tour of it from the hospital administrator. Its something that’s been sitting in my thoughts so I’ve decided to write about my perspective of it. First, let me say that its considered the best hospital in the region. The next best hospital is nearly 5 hours away in Mwanza so people really do come in from hours away to be seen here. Having said that, it’s a hospital that, for American standards, needs A LOT of work done. Beds are wooden. There are no private rooms or even curtains separating patients (just the men’s ward and the women’s ward). The building is old and has extensive roof damage due to bats flying around freely inside. Dogs, cats, chicken, bats and mosquitoes roam through the hospital grounds freely. The delivery room consists of a wooden table that is slanted down (to use gravity in the delivery) with two elevated blocks of wood to hold the women’s legs up. The hospital’s generator can cover the operating room, but its not strong enough to cover the sterilization pod meaning surgeries during blackouts are prepped for with soap and water. The hospital’s water tank is old and decrepit. In fact, structural engineers say that any day now the tank will collapse and the hospital will be left scrambling to replace it. While I’m sure the doctors there are very qualified; from my observations, it seems to be a place that certainly needs a lot of infrastructural help. Being that it’s the best hospital in the region, it makes me very sadly wonder about the other ones.

“Give me a car” – I’m used to having the little kids run and point at me. I’m used to having the little kids stare. I’m even used to having to answer to the rudimentary English that the young kids know which usually involves an exchange like “Hello, how are you? I’m fine. Bye bye.” All said by them in one breath. What I’m not used to is understanding what else they say to me in Swahili after the previously mentioned takes place. Well, in a recent hike I took with two of my soccer teammates they decided to translate what one kid was saying to me. It was a 2-year old child, and after pointing and screaming “mzungu!” at me, he said “mzungu, give me a car! I need a car mzungu! Give me a nice one!” I wondered what a 2-year old would do with a “nice car”, but unfortunately, can’t afford finding out.

Meeting the Sambosa Mother – During the above-mentioned hike with two of my soccer friends, I mentioned my newfound love and appreciation for Sambosas here. They were exuberant as it turns out the lady who makes the sambosas and the only sambosa shop in Shirati is actually the mother of one of the boys in my team. On the way back to my place, I was late for dinner, but the boys still insisted in taking me to see the “Sambosa Mother” to tell her first hand how much I liked her product. She was thrilled to have me over to her house and even happier when I told her the purpose of my visit. She seemed honored to know that what she did was appreciated and I was happy to let her know I’m now her Number 1 fan. She offered to have me over for sambosas anytime I wanted which I was thrilled about. The boys then walked me home and I found I had been too late and missed out on dinner. Without missing a beat, the boys turned me around and we walked back to the Sambosa Mother’s house. Dinner was served, and it was delicious J  

Cows on the Field – While playing soccer in my team’s “stadium” I’m pretty used to getting interrupted mid-game for one reason or another. Sometimes a person cuts through our field while heading to town (mid-match) and we have to play around them. Sometimes little kids who are watching roam onto the field and we have to be careful not to kick the ball at them. A couple times we’ve even had chicken on the field that we also have to circumvent. This past week, however, was a new first. My team was doing well offensively and the ball was on the other team’s side of the field for a good 20-minutes before we finally scored a goal and started running back to our side. That’s when we noticed that our side of the field had been taken over by 4 cows. They sat there eating the little bit of grass that we have on this mainly dirt field. We tried to shoo them away to no avail, so, like other things that interrupt us, we decided to just play around them. That plan didn’t last long. When an airball led a player to run looking up to the ball and not down at what was ahead of him, we ran into some trouble. Normally, the little kids, the chicken and the adult heading downtown know to get out of the way of a kid running at them full speed. Well cows don’t. And so the kid hit the cow and was knocked straight down on the ground with the air taken out of him. For the cow’s part, she didn’t even seem to notice. Practice had to be called off until the next day.

Wazungos Invade – When the Village Life group first arrived in Shirati, I offered for anyone who was interested to join in on one of my soccer team’s practices. I knew that the team would love to meet so many mzungus (especially the mzungo women, or as my team refers to them “our American wives”) and I thought it’d be a good opportunity for the visitors to meet and befriend some locals through the universal language of soccer. I didn’t expect 15 of the 20 students to come out to our practice in one day. It was awesome! We had a shirts and skins game that had half locals, half mzungus in each team. I think there’s no better or quicker way for people to bond. By the end of the scrimmage, everyone seemed to be good friends. People were taking pictures together, they were hugging and they made promises to each other to stay in touch. It was a great sight to see. The motto of the Clinton School is “building bridges” and is used in the context of uniting people of different cultures, different needs and different backgrounds. I was proud of my role in the bridge that was built through the wazungo invasion of our game and even better, I had a blast because of it!

Malaria – Some really good news has emerged from the work that I’m doing. After 2 weeks of surveying, I’ve found strong indications that a recent government program to spray every household against mosquitoes and give every family mosquito nets has been hugely successful. People have been reporting to me that malaria has been all but eradicated in their families. This is huge news in what is currently considered to be one of the worst malaria regions in the world. To corroborate the data I’m hearing, I’ve gone to some local hospitals and health clinics and asked for their data. Turns out preliminary analysis shows that for the past 3-month period, as compared to the 5-year average of the same 3-month period, malaria is down by about 75%! More surveying remains to be done and more data will be collected and analyzed by these clinics and hospitals on my request, but this is great news and great information for many folks to have about malaria in the Shirati region!  

Holding Hands, but only with Boys – A true sign of friendship amongst boys here is the holding of hands. If you are friends with whomever you’re with, you better be holding their hand as you walk down the street or you could be disrespecting them. As such, many of my local friends (and others who randomly approach me to talk in the streets) love to hold my hand. Not only does it establish our friendship, but it does so publicly. People are in awe of seeing them have a mzungu friend who is close enough to hold hands with them while walking around the city. For my part, I go along with it for cultural sensitivity’s sake, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t still pretty uncomfortable every time it happens…and it happens a lot!

“I’m Old” – Another week of going hut-to-hut in the 3 villages I’m working in. One thing I try to do to those who would like, is offering to take a picture of them. Most people love this offer and are completely flabbergasted by me being able to show them the picture immediately after I take it. One guy I recently surveyed was 93 years old! He was very excited to have his picture taken and (like about 90% of others) asked for me to join in and be in the picture too. After I took the picture, I showed it to him and he got this concerned look on his face. “Is that me?” he asked. After affirming it was in fact him, he started laughing; “Wow, I’m old!”   

Meeting Barack Obama – In another one of the huts I visited I went through my standard set of questions. When I got to the listing of the family members part, the young lady proudly told me that she only had one son. He was two years old. I asked for his name and she told me “Barack Obama”. I laughingly asked if I could have the honor of meeting Barack Obama. She called him in for me and I shook his hand. After that I saluted him and received an unexpected response…Barack cried and ran away. Who would’ve thought that the first time I got to meet Barack Obama, it would end with him crying and running away from me?

“Tanzania is better than America” – Those were the words that one of my soccer teammates said to me as we grabbed a Coke after practice. It came out of nowhere and I thought it was a bit odd for him to say, so I inquired as to why he was saying that. He said “well, its pretty logical. I know of 2 Tanzanians who have gone to America, but every year a ton of Americans come to Tanzania. Things must be better here than there.”

Taking Measurements – In my family, I’m kind of the black sheep. My father, mother, uncles, and grandfathers are all engineers. Meanwhile I have no interest in engineering; I’m more into the social sciences. Well during the June Brigade’s visit, I got to make my family proud. Some engineering students are working on building a new school in Burere and one day they needed one extra person to volunteer to help them out with measurements and soil samples. I immediately jumped at the opportunity of learning more fist-hand about what it is that my family does. It was fun. I used a gigantic tape to measure each existing structure, measure the distance between structures and even measure the trees and rocks in the area. I made a map detailing it all (which no one but me can decipher). I also had to help out with soil samples which they needed of many different depths, going down as far as 10 meters underground. Our shovel had been lost, so we had to be creative in how we could get down that deep. Turns out there was an abandoned pit latrine (if you don’t know what that is, look it up) behind an condemned house next to the school. Well, in the name of science folks have to do some crazy things. Going 10 meters into a pit latrine head first can now be listed as one of those crazy things. Anyone still wonder why I chose social sciences over engineering?

Safari Jema – Which translates to “Safe Journey”. That’s what everyone was wishing me at the end of this past week as I left Shirati on Friday along with the Village Life June Brigade on a 3-day safari through the Serengeti (Tanzania) and Masai Mara (Kenya). I got in to Nairobi on Sunday and will be here until Wednesday when I return to Shirati. I’ll write more about these experiences in next week’s post. Until then, wish me Safari Jema for my travels back.

Week 4

A Heat Fan in Shirati – Perhaps the toughest part of my worldly isolation thus far has been missing out on the Miami Heat action going on back in the States. My dad has been kind enough to wait until midnight eastern after every game (7 am local time, when I get up every morning) to call me with a full update. I was inside American Airlines Arena when the Heat beat the Mavericks in the 2006 NBA Finals. Sadly, I was sleeping in Shirati when they played the Mavericks in Game 6 of the 2011 NBA Finals and didn’t watch a single play. Hearing the outcome of Game 6 though, I’m kind of happy I missed out. Would’ve just had my heart broken. Nonetheless, I can claim the title of being the only fan of the Eastern Conference Champions in Shirati. #representing #LetsgoHEAT #2012

Wazungo – I am no longer THE mzungu. Now that I have been joined by a total of 30 of my new closest friends, WE are the wazungo (plural form of mzungu). It started last week with the arrival of the 4 other Americans who are here until late-June. I no longer have to walk 2-miles three times a day for my meals. We now have a cook that makes meals and serves them to us on our table! I no longer have to do my own laundry in the shower. We now have a laundry lady who comes in 3 times a week to wash our things. And I no longer have to sweep and clean the hostel as we now have a housekeeper 6 times a week. Life has changed and it has changed drastically. The other Americans here will most likely not know the hardships I faced. But I’m grateful that I went through them. I signed up for this experience knowing full well what I was getting myself into, and I have to say, 4 weeks in, its already been one of the most impactful and meaningful experiences of my life and I would want it to have happened in no other way. By having that alone time and by having to fend for myself and walk all over town constantly, alone, I made several local friends. I was recruited for a local soccer team. And I am known to the local kids and members of the community. As much as many others have intentions to integrate with the community as well, due to no fault of their own, it will be much tougher to make happen walking around as a group of wazungo then it was as a single, pity-inducing mzungu. Over the course of the 10 days that the Village Life June Brigade is in town (this past Thursday until next Sunday) we are truly a big pack. Food is served in a temporary outdoor cafeteria next to the hostel and a generator has been set up to give us power even when the city is dark. Life is good and I’m very glad they’re here, but things are very different from the Shirati cultural experience I’ve had the past several weeks.   

The Complicated Case: An Update – Remember last week when I told you about the mentally challenged boy who broke into the doctor’s house as we played Scrabble inside? Well, this week he broke into her house again. Twice actually. On Tuesday he was found under her couch in the living room where he was hiding waiting to make his escape with 100 U.S. dollars he took from her room. She caught him, took back the money, and drove him to his home so she could have a talk with his mother. Unfortunately, his mother wasn’t around and no one knew when she’d be back. She again gave him a stern talking to and let him go. Thursday, as she played Scrabble, she glanced up and saw him tip-toeing through her living room. She again stopped him. This time fed up, she decided that she could not continue to live in fear of this boy constantly breaking into her house. She turned him over to the Police. There were some complaints from the community who was upset that she’d turn him in. I saw both sides of it; what was she to do? Should she live in constant fear? 3 break-ins in a week’s time from the same person warrants a more permanent solution. At the same time, I feel bad for the boy. I don’t know the right answer to this one. What can and should we do about this situation? Not just this boy, but others like him in a society without health care for the mentally ill? Its certainly a very delicate and difficult situation.  

Door-to-Door – I began door-to-door surveying last week and its been a lot of fun. Going to each of the huts in the village has been an incredible anthropological opportunity as I’ve met dozens of great folks and seen a very in-depth and interesting perspective on how they live. Each hut is very uniquely designed in their interior. Some have posters of “Great World Leaders” which usually means a huge portrait of Barack Obama with a few other portraits about a quarter of its size around him. Some just have huge portraits of Obama with no other explanation or reasoning displayed. Others have posters that are religious, usually involving portraits of Jesus. And still others have quasi-pornographic posters of half-naked western women as the first thing you see when you walk into the hut. Seeing those posters at times has been odd because most of these huts have whole families (including wives and small children) living in them. Its also been odd to me at times when there’s a mix of posters, particularly ones of the half nude variety next to Jesus posters.

Six Eggs, Corn and Anchovies – The villagers have been instructed to not give me food or water when I come by to do my door-to-door surveying. This is a Village Life policy as people have gotten sick in the past. One thing about Tanzanians however, especially the Luo tribe, is that they are incredibly friendly and welcoming of guests. Really, they’re super friendly and welcoming. And so, many have told me that they feel bad about having me as a guest at their house and not feeding me. To some, the solution is preparing food and putting it in front of me hoping that I’ll change my mind. While I certainly appreciate their efforts and hospitality, I haven’t been swayed yet. Others, have taken to trying to circumvent the “no food” rule with a bit of an exception to the policy. They have given me food to be cooked back at the hostel. While I’ve tried to decline these incredibly friendly and generous offers, I’ve been told several times by my translator that its rude not to accept them. And so, in the past week, I’ve gathered six eggs given to me by 2 different families in Roche, corn given by a family in Nyambogo and another small bag of anchovies given by a family in Burere. I have more than enough food of my own, so I’ve regifted these gifts to those who I think need them more than I. It’s still been very touching to see these people who have so little, give so much of what they do have to a stranger as a welcoming gesture.    

Flattened Futbol – One day I had arrived a bit late from the village where I was working and was getting ready to go to soccer practice (which had already started) when I heard my name being called outside. I looked out the window and found 4 of the boys from my team calling me. I went outside, impressed that they’d hold up practice for me, when I realized that they hadn’t. They had started it, and during the scrimmage the ball had hit a rose bush (which surround our “stadium”) and went flat. I walked over to the field with the boys and found the entire team sitting under a tree waiting to hear what solution I had. Unfortunately, I sat there waiting for their solution. So basically we just sat there starring at each other in silence for a while, all clearly depressed. I suggested we put some tape on the ball and pump it, which they liked, but then I realized I didn’t have any tape. Eventually, one of the boys said we could take it to the ball maker who also fixes holes in balls such as this. I asked why this solution hadn’t been brought up earlier and they said that its too expensive and unrealistic. I asked the price and was informed he charged 60 U.S. cents to fix balls. “We might as well make a new cloth ball tonight” he said after telling me the price. I didn’t want to come off rude or insensitive to their condition, so I made it sound like it’d be a struggle for me to get the money, but that I could get it by that evening so that the ball could be fixed the next morning. They were incredibly thankful and grateful. Its hard to imagine that 60 cents here is seen as a solution that is not even worthy of being mentioned as its too unrealistic to acquire. The ball has been fixed and we have resumed our soccer practices with the “World Cup ball”.

My First Match – As part of the deal for me joining the team in the beginning of their soccer season here in Shirati (which pretty much goes year-round, but allowed me to join as a new member of the team) I made it clear that I did not want to play in games. This was more for their sake then mine. I know I’m the worst member of the team and I don’t want them to feel pressured to put me in because they feel bad and want to be welcoming of their guest (which they very much are). Meanwhile, on my end, the American doctor in town told me that matches here get very rough and that she sees tons of physical injuries at the hospital coming from these matches. Especially because I am not used to the kind of physical (even violent at times) soccer that they play here, she strongly recommended that I did not play outside of scrimmages and practice time. Well, we had our first match of the season this past weekend against the neighboring village of Obuere. Because of two illnesses and one player having his parents make him heard their cows that afternoon, we ended up being down a player. I kept trying to decline and not play, but they were persistent and I didn’t want to be responsible for my team having to forfeit. So, I played. And outside of some minor scrapes and cuts (and a bit more blood dripping down both of my legs) I was ok. In fact, I play offense, and while I didn’t score a goal, I did have an assist! Not bad compared to where I was a week ago. I’ve certainly gained confidence, gained some endurance and become a better player over the past week. Our daily practices seven days a week are paying off.

The Universal Language – With just 1-minute remaining in the match I talked about above, my team was actually down by a goal; 3-2. One of our players kicked the ball to the goal and the goalkeeper was able to bat it away. The ball was batted straight at another one of our players who then kicked it up to the goal. The goalkeeper was still on the floor from having bat out the previous ball and only one defender stood at the goal. The ball was kicked high and the defender’s reaction was to bat it away with his hands, just like the goalkeeper had. He batted it, but the ball still went into the goal. The referee gave the player a red card (correct) but instead of calling it a goal, he called it a penalty kick (incorrect, you always give the advantage to the team that was harmed by the infraction, in this case the ball still went into the goal, so it should have been a red card and goal). My team went absolutely nuts arguing this point. They threw the ball down the field, yelled at the ref’s face and refused to take the pk for a solid 10 minutes as they argued with him, causing 3 red cards to be thrown in our direction. I, of course, stayed out of it and watched it all in fascination. They were yelling and screaming in Swahili, which I do not know. I found, however, that while I did not know what they were saying; I knew exactly what they were saying. It was a surreal experience and a remarkable realization of the power of soccer in uniting humanity. In case you’re wondering, the pk was good and the game ended immediately afterward in a 3-3 tie, so no harm from us having just 8-players on the field at that point.  

The Joy of Coca-Cola (and Sambosas) – After 4 weeks, I had started to really miss western food and such. Recently, some of the Americans staying at the hostel with me and I decided to go to town and try to find something that resembled home for us to enjoy. After asking around for local foods, we finally found something we could all love…Coca-Cola. Really, I hadn’t realized how much happiness a 30-cent glass bottle of Coke with real sugar can bring to a group of isolated Americans. It’s a big pick me up and a great taste of home (but even better because of the real sugar). Not wanting to disrespect what merits respecting, the Fanta isn’t far behind. All three local Fanta flavors (Orange, Grape and Pineapple) are delicious and I’m particularly partial to the pineapple here which tastes just like a starburst or some other candy like it. To go along with our Cokes, et al. we’ve discovered sambosas. Sambosas are the African version of Samosas and are equally delicious. I’m a huge samosa fan and at this point would be a huge fan of anything fried, possibly even the fried stick of butter that rumor has is available at the Arkansas State Fair. There is nothing better than our new daily ritual of having a Coke and Sambosa after a hard day of work in the scorching African sun. Oh actually, there is something better. The fact that 2 sambosas and a Coke (aka our daily ritual) goes for a combined total of 55 cents. And the fact that when I finish this daily delight, I head over to soccer practice. Life is good in Shirati.  

Making Photocopies – I had to make 100 photocopies of my 11-page survey last week before I could start working. I’ll admit that 1,100 copies is a lot. However, back in the States, If I needed to, I could have made that happen at my school with relatively little effort. So it did not cross my mind that this was something I should be concerned about here. Well, it should have. Making copies is an interesting process that requires one to go downtown to one of two “photocopy shops”. These shops are more formal places that kind of look like an office in the inside. An attendant will ask you what you need done. I explained my needs and was told that I could leave my document and phone number with them and that they’d call me when it was ready to be picked up. I asked for an estimate on time and was told “about 3 days. Assuming we don’t lose power.” Well I had gone to do this the day before I was scheduled to start surveying and thought I was going with plenty of time to spare. I explained my situation and luckily had a very friendly attendant who made it all work out for me in a day and a half (I left late for the village). It was an important lesson for me on being better prepared for things (no matter how small they seem) in a different cultural environment.  

The Dressmaker – With the group of Americans currently in town, the village dressmaker stopped by to pay us a visit and offer us her services. She brought a gigantic plastic bag filled with different styles of cloth for people to choose from. She also brought several pre-made dresses so that people could see different styles. And she brought her measuring gear to measure people and start working on the attire they order. I was the only one to not order anything from my hostel, but it was fun to observe. There are some really cool cloth options that she brought out, and the cost is very reasonable; On a shirt: $4 for the cloth, $8 for her work; on a dress: $8 for the cloth, $12 for her work. If I thought I would ever actually wear an African-style garment back in the States (or thought my parents would) I would’ve very much purchased something. But it was still cool to observe the process of acquiring a new dress or shirt for someone in Shirati.   

The Importance of Feedback – Back to the door-to-door surveying. I just wanted to quickly stress how important the done I did prior to the surveying ended up being to the success of the survey itself. I spent two weeks going through different ideas, suggestions and plans with the Village Committees before I put the survey together. Once the survey was developed, I spent a week working with them on making sure that they knew each and every question in the 11-page survey and had the chance to give their feedback as well as make suggestions on things I may have missed. The committees laughed at me for being so careful and running so much by them before I started. “You’re the expert” they kept telling me. “No, you guys are the expert. I’m a student of yours” is what I kept saying back. And I turned out to be right. Some huge things that came up and really made a difference in this survey working out included the fact that I had almost completely disregarded polygamy in the original draft of the survey (over 50% of my surveys so far have had cases of polygamy), the fact that once I did take polygamy into account I only allowed for up to 5 wives to be filled in and that I should allow for more (the first survey I conducted was in a house that had 11 wives), and the fact that changing source water from filters might be an issue I should ask people about (its turned out to be by far the main issue water filters are encountering here). In short, the process of getting feedback from community leaders on how/what I should be getting feedback on from the community is a hugely important and was a hugely successful project. All who are interested in public service should take note of this important accurate lesson that the Clinton School taught me.

Miracle Maker –  In one of my visits to Nyambogo Primary School (to see how their water filter was doing) I was swarmed in typical fashion by pretty much every student at the school who wanted to see, touch and yell at a mzungu. Putting their creativity to work, this group decided to point at me and scream “mzungu!” repeatedly and loudly. Going through my now usual routine of introducing myself and shaking hands with them, I left the group and pulled out my camera to take pictures of the beautiful scenery. Well this made the kids go wild and ask for me to take pictures of them. I did, first of a small group, then a bigger one and finally a huge one with almost every student wanting to get in on the action. After the pictures were taken I showed them how it came out on my digital camera. They were flabbergasted that I could immediately show them a picture. Hundreds of students lined up, screamed, pushed and even bit those in front of them to get closer to me quicker so they could see this magical event for themselves. My translator explained to me afterwards that the consensus amongst the young kids ended up being that “this mzungu is a miracle maker”.

Week 3

Mizami – In Week 1, I mentioned that about 50% of locals practice traditional African religions. The other 50% here in Shirati are Christian as for some reason Shirati was a hotbed of missionaries in the mid to late-20^th century. Because of this, some local names are in English. Some of the interesting ones I’ve come across include “Goodluck”, “Godbless” and “Mistake”.  One lady I met here is called Mizami (pronounced me-zah-me). The doctor explained to me that she was named after a local missionary at the time that was very well respected in her community. I was confused as to which missionary would have such an odd name; after a while, seeing my perplexion, the doctor explained it to me…Ms. Amy. 
 

“Fernando, Come Quick!” – Last weekend I was sitting with the American doctor in her home (next to the hostel) playing Scrabble with her. We were in the dining room, just a few steps away from the entrance to the home. We thought we heard the door open but no one came in and we kept playing. Soon we heard some noises and the doctor got worried thinking someone might be there unannounced. She went to check outside and I kept thinking how silly and paranoid she was being, we were in Shirati where everyone knows each other and all are super friendly, why was she worried? She came back empty-handed, but soon we heard the noise again. I told her it was probably just the cats or the chicken that are always right outside the door but she again got up to check. Soon she screamed, “Fernando, come quick! Come quick!” As I ran over to her room (where she was), I saw, looking right back at me, a stunned 13-year old boy who had clearly been in the process of going through her stuff. She had, indeed, caught a thief in the act.

It Gets Complicated – I locked the boy inside the room and stayed guard at the door holding it so that he couldn’t get away. Meanwhile the doctor called her neighbor and asked him to rush over. Once he got there, he immediately recognized the boy. He told us that the boy was a well-known mentally challenged thief in the area. His mother had died and his father found a job 4 hours away and so was never around. His father’s second wife was left to take care of him but she didn’t care about him, so he was essentially on his own. He’s gotten good at the art of breaking into homes (clearly as he walked into ours while we were just 15 yards away from the door and we didn’t see him). He goes in, steals money and trades it with older kids for sweets. Thing is, he has no concept of value and so he gets very little for what he steals. For example, after questioning him, he admitted to having been the thief of 60 US Dollars taken from the room of the person staying in the hostel right before I got in. When asked what he did with the money, he said he traded it for 2 packs of biscuits (cookies). Each pack is sold at the market for 30 US cents, so he got 60 cents for 60 dollars. This is normal as older kids know they can take advantage of him. They also know that if he’s caught, he will be the one suffering the consequences. People tend to beat him when they catch him in their homes, thinking it will teach him a lesson. Once, he was turned into the police who beat him and electrocuted him so badly he had to be hospitalized. So what can we do about this boy? For our part, we just gave him a stern talking to about how he was being taken advantage of and needs to realize that and stop doing what he’s doing, and we let him go. Obviously that’s not a long-term solution. After thinking about it a lot this week, I’m still not sure what can be done to help him, and others like him, in a society that does not yet have a place for or means to help the mentally ill.

Explaining Sunburns – My local friends don’t understand when I tell them I am sunburnt (which, even wearing sunscreen, I have now been a couple of times). They also don’t understand why I’ve been getting darker and darker since I got here. One person suggested I go see a local witch doctor as it might be a curse someone put on me. Perhaps I’ve found the explanation for Michael Jackson once and for all. If only we could have gotten him to a witch doctor… 

Explaining Time Zones – My local friends also don’t understand time zones. I’ve tried explaining to them several times that my family, friends and professors back in the States are 8-hours behind us. At first they didn’t get it at all, then once I broke it down to them and kept telling them what time it was “in America” every time they asked (which they would do every few minutes for several hours) it seemed to me like it finally clicked. They went wild in laughter and started several mornings in a row saying how it was weird that Americans were sleeping right now. I thought I had made a breakthrough and that the explanation had fully sunk in, then, about a week later (just yesterday), one of my friends started explaining time zones herself to another local boy. I was very proud, until I heard what she had to say…”in America, they sleep during the morning hours, wake up in the afternoon, and work when its dark outside. They even pretend it’s a different time so that it works better with their sleep schedule.” Back to square one.

Getting Explanations – As much as I’ve been explaining things to my local friends, most of the time, its been my local friends who have been the ones explaining things to me. While its been hard to teach them about time zones, sunburns, and other things like GPS devices or ipods; its been even harder for them to explain to me things like: knowing if a bushy area is prone to snakes, how to climb up a banana tree to fetch some fruit, looking up at a blue sky and knowing whether or not its going to rain that day, and how to have the balance and strength to carry a 50-pound bucket on your head. Every futile attempt I make at each of the above activities after they tell me how to do it leads to laughter and them trying to explain it to me in a different way. They are much better teachers and have a lot more patience for a slow student such as myself then I would.

Food – The most asked question I’ve been getting is “What do you eat there?” So I figured I should address it. In the mornings, breakfast consists of rice pancakes, along with tea and a banana. Lunch is the challenging one; it is always one of two things that I pack and eat while doing my fieldwork. Either a banana and peanut butter sandwich (usually 4 times/week) or an egg and butter sandwich (3 times/week). 7 days a week of having this for lunch has already gotten tiring after 3 weeks, can’t imagine how I’ll feel in 7 more. But I remind myself that I’m getting 3 meals a day, and I should be grateful as that’s more than almost everyone here gets (most have 2 meals a day, breakfast and dinner). For dinner, I usually get some sort of meat and side. About 90% of the time its been either well-cooked goat or fish, and the remainder of the time its been chicken (which I don’t particularly like here as its very dry and has more bone on it than meat). The side dish tends to be either some sort of greens or white rice. Every now and then they’re nice to me and make me french fries or spaghetti which is a great way to let me get a taste of home. The good thing is that I’m eating way healthier than I do in the States, and being environmentally friendly as well since all the food is locally grown by farmers here in Shirati.

The Night Watchman; An Update – Turns out that night watchman I referred to last week wasn’t quite as much a “great guy” as I gave him credit for. His first night of work had been my first night here and from the start I thought he was always a bit too friendly when we talked and always said random things that were all over the place; I assumed that was just his style. I also thought it was weird that I had run into him in town twice and he would come talk to me in Swahili telling me he didn’t speak English, but at nights would talk to me in English. Well, turns out he can only speak English when he’s drunk. And he’s been drunk every single night since I got here. I figured this out a few days earlier when he escorted me home carrying a bottle of beer in each hand instead of the flashlight he’s supposed to have. His fatal mistake was knocking on the hostel owner’s door in the middle of the night, babbling about his dogs; clearly drunk and smelling of alcohol. Needless to say, he is no longer employed here. Anyone know someone else willing to work 7 nights a week, for 10 cents an hour? We’re hiring…

3 Days Without Cleanliness (and later, without power) – Remember last week’s post entitled “4 Days of Darkness”? Well this is its evil stepchild. It is said that “The Lord Giveth, and the Lord Taketh Away”: that he did. Electricity wasn’t a problem at the beginning of the week, we only had 4-hours without it in 3 days! Water decided it wanted its turn in the spotlight. Turns out the water supply for the hostel comes from a source that is several kilometers away. The water is brought via above-ground pipes. Well there apparently was a rupture somewhere in the pipe. It took a day for the plumber to arrive after we summoned him. Another day for him to walk the stretch of above-ground piping doing pressure tests to determine where the problem was, and a final day for him to fix it. During these three days I was without shower, sink and toilet. Within hours of water coming back, the power went out and stayed that way for 3 days. Here’s how I addressed each problem:

Shower – Good thing I brought a lot of deodorant.

Sink – Good thing I brought a lot of Purell.
Toilet – That’s what the woods are for.  
Power – No phone, no computer, no ipod…no problem. Getting used to it J

Clans – During my first week here, I attended a mourning session (see Week 1). This past weekend, I got to attend an actual funeral. Because funerals here are considered the chief way to network with others, they are incredibly well attended. There were almost 2,000 people at the one I went to, and the organization of it all was superb with several different food lines giving different kinds of food depending on the person’s VIP (or lack thereof) status, huge tents set up to give everyone shade, enough rented chairs for everyone to sit in, a sound system and even an MC to run the program and introduce each speaker. They also had a printed program explaining in detail what would happen during each of the funeral’s 4-hours (yeah, they’re really long). In charge of organizing all this is the deceased’s clan. Clans are made up of around 600-1,000 family members and are incredibly well organized with the senior male being the “clan representative” and his senior relatives serving as committee chairs within the clan. Committees include finance, health/well-being, and major events (different clans can and do have more committees, but these are the basic ones). The major events committee will have subcommittees such as “program”, “chairs”, “food”, “water”, “welcoming”, etc That way when a death occurs (or a birth or wedding, but deaths aren’t planned and funerals must happen within a couple days here) each person in the clan knows exactly what they have to do and logistically impressive events happen for thousands of people with just 2 days’ notice. It’s pretty cool!

A Day at the Derby – Another interesting thing from the funeral was the head scarves that were worn by the women. Every lady had her head covered with a scarf and I found that these scarves were the Tanzanian version of going to the Kentucky Derby or the Royal Wedding. Each was really unique, intricate and expressing of fashion and style. It was neat to observe and help me pass the time during the 4-hour ceremony which took place in the local tribal language of Luo. 

All Talk, Little Walk – Locals like to make fun of Tanzanian politicians and business leaders for how good they are at talking but how little they actually do. A recent example comes from recent national Tanzanian news. The largest national beer company, Kilimanjaro Brewery, managed to get all of the Tanzanian media to its headquarters to cover a major community service announcement they had. After an hour-long talk from their CEO about how committed they were to giving back to the community and helping the people of Tanzania, they brought out 4 employees in uniform and each planted a small tree in front of their headquarter building. After much applause and fanfare, the company’s VP came out and gave another 30-minute speech on the importance of this action to the community who will now breathe cleaner air and have a prettier surrounding. Perhaps honorary Master of Public Service degrees are in order?

Batman Strikes at Night – Tuesday night, I awoke in the middle of the night to a bird who had somehow gotten into my room and was flying around wildly inside of it. I knew I was safe inside my mosquito net so I waited it out until the bird finally calmed down. I got out of my net, opened the door to the hallway and tried to shoo it out of my room. The bird didn’t budge. So, I tried turning the light on in the hallway to see if it would attract it over. Again it didn’t move. I tried turning the light on in my room and the thing went nuts, flying around hitting walls and the ceiling before knocking itself out and falling to the ground. That’s when I noticed it wasn’t a bird; it was a bat, and it didn’t like the light. Figuring this out, I kept the light in my room on and turned the hallway one off and waited outside. Within a few minutes it flew out to the hallway. I figured I’d deal with it the next day, at least I could now go back to sleep. The next morning, Batman (as I nicknamed the bat) was nowhere to be found. I searched and searched the house and kept hearing it but could never actually spot it. I gave up, and went about my day as usual. I found out that Batman was a fruit bat and would not attack me. However, I should also be careful not to touch it or let it touch me as it can carry certain diseases that I’d personally prefer not to acquire. The proper thing to do, I was told, is to role up some papers (or my notebook), like a bat, and whack it (like a baseball). This will disorient Batman for a while, allowing me to cover him with a pan and drag the pan (and him) outside where his evil villain “Sir Meow” will most likely eat him. I felt like the bad guy in this story, but I guess even Batman must one day meet his match. Regardless, I couldn’t find him so I waited for him to make his next appearance.

…And So Does Robin – The following night we had a blackout. And Batman came back. This time he had the strategic advantage as my candle was clearly not scaring him away. He is used to the dark and I am not. Moreover, like we all know from the comic books and movies, Batman likes to roll with his trusted sidekick; Robin, it turns out that the Robin in this story is a bat too. The two of them were having a field day over my head. Flying around the whole hostel and having a grand old bat party over me. It was annoying me but I figured they wouldn’t do me harm. That was until one of them started doing flyby’s that were uncomfortably close to me and eventually even grabbed at my hair. I had had it, but knew I couldn’t do much in those circumstances, so I went into my room where I was stuffed up for 3 hours with my candle until I finally just went to sleep. The next morning, having regained advantage from the sunlight (although still without electricity which would have helped), I again went on a manhunt, I again could hear the bats, but I again could not find them. I narrowed it down to one room I was pretty sure they were in, but an extensive search revealed nothing. I called a local friend of mine over and explained to him what was happening. After I showed him the room I thought they were in, he immediately walked over the window and looked above the window pane, “here they are” he said. Literally, in less than 10 seconds. Turns out, Batman and Robin had a family. In all, we found 5 bats living in the room next to mine. We followed proper protocol and indeed witnessed the part of “The Circle of Life” that is not covered in the Disney song.

Futbol! – Last week, I was recruited by some local boys, who I ran into every day in my walks back from dinner, to play in their regional soccer team. I gladly accepted and saw it both as a fun opportunity and a way to make more local friends. They practice 7 days a week from 5 to 7 pm. My first day of practice I received a hero’s welcome. The 14-person team cheered, applauded, and went absolutely wild at my presence. First, they couldn’t believe that a mzungu would be playing with them. And second, they couldn’t believe the ball I had brought with me. A real soccer ball. They tend to play with cloth balls here that they make by wrapping several shirts together. They had never seen a “real soccer ball” before, only on TV during important matches. Their “stadium” (as they call it) is a big open spot of dirt and rocks right next to my hostel, which is very convenient for me. I was impressed to see that they have a “coach” (who’s 19) and that they obey him carefully. They begin practices with sprints up and down the field, stretches, and other warm up methods. Finally it was time for the two-hour daily scrimmage. Looking out at the players before my first practice I thought I was set, perhaps even that I’d be the rockstar of the team. The players range in age from 8 to 17 (with half of them being 10 or under) and I thought I could take them on pretty comfortably. Boy was I wrong. They destroyed me in every way possible. They were faster than me, by over a 2 to 1 ratio. They were better than me. And they outlasted me. Within 30 minutes I was huffing and puffing; exhausted from the intense game. I couldn’t keep the ball for longer than 5 seconds before a little 8 year old would come swoop it away from me like it was candy from a baby. I had to leave my first practice early, and hobbled home with my head down.  

Third Time’s the Charm – I decided that evening that soccer was too much fun for me to quit, rather, I had to try harder. The coach reinforced that decision calling me the next day to make sure I would come back and not quit; “The team likes you. You are our first mzungu ever, we want you to play with us”. So, there I was at the second practice, determined to do better. Coach offered to take me out four times during the game, saying I looked exhausted, and offering to give me time to rest but I politely refused. I wanted to stay and prove to myself (and to them) that I could play with this group of kids. I played the full two hours at that practice, while I was still pretty bad, I was a bit prouder of myself. The third practice I was back at it. Before that practice, the coach wanted me to bond with my new teammates before the first game of the season next week, so he took us on a two-hour hike to the top of a local hill which has a beautiful view of Shirati. It was a great chance to chat and learn more about them, but it was also exhausting to do, especially in the early afternoon when the sun was still in full force (we had to be back in time for practice). When we got back, coach offered for me not to play since I already looked tired. I stuck with it though and played the full two hours again. Several times during the scrimmage my teammates called my name and pointed down. I couldn’t figure out what they wanted but assumed I was doing something wrong. At the end of the match, I finally realized that they had been pointing at my knee, which was scraped in a fall I took and had been bleeding down to my shoe. I didn’t feel it that much until I saw it. After practice, the team rounded up and applauded me. Standing in a circle around me, the captain of the team said “Fernando, you might not be one of our best players, but you’ve got heart and you keep trying and trying. Welcome to the team”. I never thought that being officially accepted into a group of young kids would be such hard work or feel like such an accomplishment, but it was and it did. As soon as the team was done with their little welcome of me, the coach stepped in. “You still have a lot to work on. Stay after practice, you’re doing sprints”. Awesome.  

Breast Cancer – An elderly patient came into the Roche Health Clinic this week complaining of severe pain in her left breast over the past 7 years. From the smell of it (with her clothes still on) and the incredible swelling of her left arm (which was about 3 times the size of her right one and the patient claims has been this was for 6 years) the doctor immediately knew this was a case of severe breast cancer. The doctor warned me to have a strong stomach if I planned on looking. What we saw was truly in need of a strong stomach. The poor woman no longer had a breast, it had flattened along with the rest of her chest and the whole left side of her body had hardened and decayed. A huge dry wound-like structure was the only thing that remained of her nipple. Its incredible that she’s still alive, but I’m told that in older patients the cancer spreads much more slowly allowing for something like this to happen. Nonetheless, the cancer had spread beyond a cure; all we could do was give her a bottle of Tylenol for the pain and wish her the best.  

The Americans are coming, the Americans are coming! – After 15 days of isolation, I finally have company! And more is on the way. Four students from California who are pre-med and pre-nursing students have arrived in Shirati and are now keeping me company! After living with very limited means (aka no water or electricity), with very limited contact with the outside world and in such a different culture where I’m always being stared at and the center of attention when I step outside, it feels great to have others here to keep me company, share in the experience, go out to the local pub with and help when needed. And this is just the appetizer. While this group will be staying until late-June, this week we will be receiving nearly 25 college students and professors participating in the biannual Village Life brigade. Now THAT will spice things up here. Can’t wait to welcome them to my home for over 3 weeks now.