I’ve been
keeping up with my journal every day of my service, but have recently found the
repetitive nature of entries has increased dramatically. So, for a clearer insight to those of you
back in America, this is my life when projects come to a halt, people are away,
and schools are closed.
5:30: Wake-up call via my British voiced alarm
clock. It’s a little more difficult to
do now since it is still ‘cold’ early in the morning. I actually long for December when I wake up
in sweat because at least it’s easier to get out of my sleeping bag and mosquito
net, ready to run.
6:00-7:00: Work-out.
Now that I’ve started marathon training it’s a must while the sun is
coming up. I’m lucky to live by a
University where there is a pseudo dirt track.
I’m anxious for my longer runs where I can explore the spotted villages
beyond the desert hill where the Wagogo herd their goats and Mamas cook mandazi
in deep frying pans.
7:05: Knock at the door, ‘Asha! Habari za asubuhi?’ ….and a five minute conversation of strictly
greetings ensues. Summary: Everyone’s family is peaceful, the house is
peaceful, their work is peaceful, they slept peacefully, their work is peaceful,
they are going to have a fine day.
7:05-8:00: Bucket bath-yow that’s cold! Hard-boiled eggs are cooking while I sing the
Black Keys, loudly. No, my neighbors
can’t hear me with the rambunctious worshipping at the Pentecostal church
nearby. Oatmeal and banana with some
chai and I’m off to work.
8:00-8:30: My walk to work totally depends on the
route. Sometimes I go through Kikuyu
where I saunter past several mosques, a few chickens and a young group of boys
wearing American fraternity t-shirts, that which they don’t understand the
meaning. Other times I go past a Mama
who only speaks Kigogo and a primary school where kids are lined up and
marching to the beat of drums while the teachers inspect their uniforms. The third route is for when I’m feeling
overly ambitious and go the 45 minutes through the edge of town and past the
nuns at the Catholic Church.
8:30….ish: I arrive to work, sweating, even in ‘winter.’ I have to greet Mama Amina at the kitchen
where we usually dance to American music, (this week’s addition, Bruno Mars),
while I help cook chapati and she cooks banana and chicken soup.
9:00-12:00: I’m officially in my ‘office,’ which is a
room with two tables, 6 chairs, a gated-in TV playing ‘bunge’ or Tanzania’s
C-SPAN, and a few other tutors from the nursing school. Sometimes I stop by the CTC to help with
patient weigh in, other times I work on grants and partnerships (yuck), and
when I’m lucky I get to talk to nursing students at the library.
12:00-1:00: Time to get out of the office! I either go back to Mama Amina’s, walk around
the grounds, or talk to some students.
Lately they’ve been asking how it’s possible that a person can volunteer
for two years. They insist they could
never do it. They also think I’m crazy for
sitting in the sun to ‘kula (eat) vitamin d.’
1:00-3:00: More office time, planning and joking with
co-workers. I was recently put in charge
of our Annual Work Plan, so I walk around bothering people and making sure they
are doing what they need to be doing.
They thank me now, but I’m sure one of these days I’m going to get a
tutor coming up to me telling me someone I keep nagging is upset. Everything is done very indirectly here, especially
when someone is angry or annoyed.
3:00-5:00: FREEDOM!
I walk from work to town: past flour mills, sunflower oil machines, rows
of goodwill thrifty hand-me-downs, and mounds of seasonal fruit. It is still a great wonder to me how the
Dodoma market is able to have as much fruit/veggies as they do….in the desert. Finally, I arrive to the major market. I always go to my egg mama because they are
250Tsh (15 cents) a piece and never bad.
Then I swing by the vijana in the back who don’t rip me off on fruit,
and sometimes sit for a fruit juice at the mgahawa if there is a soccer game
on…..which is daily. Occasionally the
random events transpire: getting henna done on my hands, talking to a fundi about
his home country of Yemen or looking for a new type of flour to cook with. It always ends with me wandering aimlessly
over to the square to read under a tree…..which I recently found is home to a
massive beehive. For now I think I may
stick to playing ‘graph,’ a type of speed checkers with bottle caps, with the
wazee at the benches far, far away from the bzzzzzzz.
5:00: The biggest dilemma of the day; do I walk
home or take a dala dala. The dala gets
me back in record speed, but I’m either ducking in an awkward position or
balancing on one foot for the entire ride all while growing further accustomed
to East African BO. The walk is nice
with no hills, but another 40 minutes in the jua kali and dust, dust, DUST. Dear rain, please come soon.
5:30ish-6:30: Stop by my veggie mama’s booth where she
stuffs my already full bag with more veggies, despite protest. I walk a bit further through the dirt field
and past a soccer game, past my neighbors duka, and onward to my bright green
home. The neighbour kids greet me with
screaming ‘ASHA’s!’ and loads of giggles.
6:30: HOME!
Time to finally do what Tanzanians do best…..rest or pumzika.
6:31: Knock at the door, ‘Asha! Naomba Bop-It!’
6:32: Knock at the door, ‘Asha! Naomba maji!’
6:33: Knock at the door, ‘Asha! Naomba charger!’
6:34-7:30: I’m finally ‘alone’ and also hungry. I head to the mama nearby for a hefty helping
of rice, beans and veggies for about 1,000Tsh=less that $1. The place is packed with college students who
I either know from basketball or street greetings. One of them usually asks if I’m married after
the first ‘Mambo’ or ‘What’s up.’
Thankfully fake wedding rings are really easy to find in Tanzania at
only 500 Tsh (30 cents) and I like making up ridiculous stories about why I won’t
be dating anyone in Tanzania anytime soon.
One time I told a college student I had a boyfriend in China who was one
foot shorter than me and had six children who were on the China Olympic
Gymnastics team.
7:30: The sun is officially going down and it’s
DARK. The church is still blasting music
and dominating the sounds of Dodoma only competing with the occasional call to
prayer.
7:30-on…….: Another two or more three knocks at the door
as I read, watch old T.V. shows or Skype.
I break into my stash of nutella and notice the steady line of ants or
cockroaches on my counters…. and thus begins a killing spree. This then leads to me reasoning that I should
also eat my stash of cream4fun cookies as a reward for badassness.
9:00: Exhaustion usually sets in, if the mosquitos
haven’t already driven me crazy, so I wash my feet (you read that right) and
head to bed. Good night, moon. Good night, stars. Good night, Tanzania.
