Friday, November 4, 2011

PST or Why Am I Doing This?!

I have been at my CBT (community based training) site for two weeks now. I live in Kilulu, a village near Muheza town in Muheza District. I live with a host family, who speak no English, have no running water and no electricity. The night I got to my host family, I was terrified. I was soooooo nervous. I had spent the last week in Dar, spending every moment with my 40 other PCTs, speaking English, enjoying electricity, drinking beers in the gazebo in the evening, and really having no interaction with Tanzania at all. My mama came out to the car when we pulled up, a tiny worn woman, and carried my bags in for me- bags that I have trouble carrying, and I have multiple inches on this woman. She walked me through her dark little house to the courtyard in the bag, sat me on a stool, and continued making dinner on a wood fire in a hut outside, in traditional TZ style. I was immediately surrounded by silent children, staring at me. I know how to greet in Swahili at this point, that's it. One little girl hands me a baby she's holding, so now I am holding someone's baby, being stared at, with nothing to say. That was basically my first night in homestay.

In TZ, people use the choo, which is a structure usually unattached from the house, with a hole in the floor, where people do their business and shower. Its basically a bathroom. Choos are terrifying places. And I have a nice choo. The top of the structure is roofed by some kind of dried veggitation, and spiders like to inhabit it. I don't like spiders. I don't like little spiders in the States. Spiders in TZ.... you could put a leash on them and take them for a walk. There are seven in my choo. My solution is to crouch as low as possible without actually crawling on the floor so as to put as great a distance between me and the giant spiders.

I have a very nice room. I actually feel really bad because I have a huge room to myself, and the rest of the family- mama, baba, kaka, and dada wawili- all sleep in one room. I have a lock on my door and bars on my window, to PC standards, and I have an insecticide treated net over my bed- which I religiously keep tucked to keep bugs off of my bed. There are cockroaches. We cohabitate very well I have found. I found one of the giant spiders on my wall though one night. I walk into my room, see it, and stop. I can't just leave it there. I am not going to sleep with that thing on my wall. But I cant squish it either because it is bigger than my shoe. So I got the kids. I bring them into my room and point at the spider, and they look at me, like, whats the big deal? They eventually killed it, which caused me to scream, and everyday they make fun of me for my fear of ndudu, bugs.

I go to shule Monday- Saturday with my 3 CBT mates to study Kiswhili. Our language instructor is a brilliant Tanzanian nicknamed Big Boy, and he knows more American slang than I do. I read on a blog once about how PCVs talk about three things: sex, shit, and food. Its true. There isn't any real habari (news) so we just make it up, hypothesizing on who will hook up with whom, who already has, what the drama in other CBTs is. Everyone knows when someone has the runs, or when someone hasn't pooped in a week, color, consistency, etc. And we talk about American food and Tanzanian food constantly. About how much we hate ugali. About how we are always full. About how salty the mchicha is. About how much we are craving peanut butter and pizza.

On Sundays I do housework- TZ style. I wash my clothes by hand. I walk ten minutes to get water, and carry it back in a bucket on my head. I cook on a wood burning stove, and by stove, I mean three large rocks arranged in a circle. I have seen my mama pluck and tear apart two chickens with her hands already. These are chickens from our front yard. I think that when I get to my site, I am going to be a vegetarian. The inside of a chicken is disgusting. I would, however, eat my rooster. I would eat every rooster in Kilulu, because roosters do not just make their screaming cockle-doodle-doos  when the rises, but all night, and all day. I really hope we eat the rooster someday.

Really, I am living the idyllic American in Africa fantasy. I am surrounded by barefoot children, who follow me everywhere, yelling my name. They pronounce it like "caught," but very sharp and short.  It is beautiful and lush and green, and everyone is friendly, and everyone knows everything I do.

Training is hard, but I am so glad I am here.

Just Put A Kanga Over It or Tanzania's Multitool

In Tanzania, knees are very provocative, so to ensure maximum coverage women will wear an extra piece of fabric over their skirt, called a kanga. This is not the only use for a kanga, however, so it is essential that one must have multiple. I have two, and its a struggle. These uses include, but are not limited to...

skirt, dress, shirt, swimsuit cover, shawl, towel, sunshade, yoga mat, cushion, pillow, rug, hat, curtain, wall decoration, table cloth, water filter, bag, scarf, and I have even seen khangas used to keep a car's hood attached to the rest of the car.

Personally, my mama insists that I have an indoor kanga, an outdoor kanga, and that I wear two kangas to the choo when I shower.

Kangas are more multi functional than my Gerber.

I will post a picture eventually, promise.