Construction and attempted consummation

My diligence in blogging has been as slack as a our bathroom banana leaf walls. But that is not to say that events have not continued to occur in hectic, hilarious or heavy style. As is the trend in writing styles across the world, the title is written in reference to the content of the text and I've maintained this sensible tradition in the typing of such a text, namely this one. Construction has indeed been the activity around which my life has been revolving. My developing carpentry skills under the occasional watch of Master Builder Daz have been used in the construction of six 700kg and 20 metre long A-frames. Each one is hoisted on the shoulders of 20 men and lifted bit by bit with the help of scaffold onto the roof. Six down, 18 more to go. The battens are then marked and cut before the tin roof is placed on this cutting edge designed 'passive cooling' ceiling insulation. I've been helping Valley (aged 31, 10 kids), Moses (25, wants a mzungu girlfriend) and a couple of others master the reading of a tape measure and a few other subtleties of building - most of which I learn moments before from Darren. Never have I enjoyed a job so much. Building really is an enjoyable profession, particularly in this context of having to use careful problem solving to overcome issues of horrendous quality of material.

On Thursday afternoons I run money management classes for the House Mamas, and they slowly using hitherto unused parts of their mind to consider their lives in terms of income and expenditure and both of these in the future. The main concept that has really hit home with some of the slightly more 'affluent' mamas (ie. $15 a week income) is that you don't have to live to the extent of your means and money can and should be saved for the future.

The attempted consummation was the occurrence of a rather more serious event. One of our Tanzanian employees, Aileen (age 19), was the victim of an attempted marriage. Which as far as we know actually means rape and possibly also marriage, maybe. Ambushed by 4 men, they tried to drag her away before one of our House Mamas, the noble Mary, came to her defence only to be kicked in the chest, knocking her down in front of her children. She managed to let off the danger cry (woooooeeeeeeeeee) which set the community running to her defence. Some were more infuriated than others by the archaic and misogynist practice. The following week was filled with community meetings, fugitives, back room deals being protested against and finally....who knows, it all kind of petered out after a little time and people began to get on with their daily lives again - the recent past or the approaching future are matters that do not concern most here and are things the most will probably never consider. This is one of our jobs in educating not just our mamas and our labourers (who we give lessons to after work), but this entire little community of Engo Sengiu.

The kiswahili is improving and I had an excellent lesson with Gertruda - a lady who lives down the road - today. Already after a couple of months the question is not how will we survive the next 10 months, but how will we survive leaving.

Familiarity and waves

One of the worst things about being in one place for too long is the restricting feeling of familiarity. The ignoring of things that you know are there but don't require your conscious attention.

One of the best things about being in a place for a while is the increasing familiarity you feel with your environment. The awareness of everything around you and the gradual revelation of its interdependence.

That's the difference between being somewhere for a long time and for too long. If you know what I mean.

I've recently reached the point where (I think) I am more in touch with reality of where I am and what's going on. The first three to four weeks was a mixture of fascination, excitement and relief with survival instinct imposed feelings of fascination, excitement and relief. That survival instinct was the knowledge that we are here for 12 months and if our first thoughts are ones of "Oh my god what have I done? What the hell are we doing here?" then we're going to have a very tough first few weeks of adjustment. So no doubt there were/are some elements of our time here that will be difficult - my constant search for regular meals and a exercise will be hard. Heather's desire for occasional comfort food may or may not subside. It is also difficult sometimes having to constantly wave and smile as every single person wants to say hello. Which is a good thing, but tiring

So with the exception of the odd day where I feel hungry or I quietly yet furiously disagree with a house decision, I am very happy here. I am asleep within minutes of going to bed (an obvious sign of contentment) and wake easily when the rooster starts crowing at sunrise. The afternoons feel remarkably like those of Spring or Autumn at Tabragalba Grove where we wander to the top of the hill to watch the sun set. Quiet, peaceful, the occasional cow mooing or goat having a horrible nightmare. Only the smell of fresh earth and fruit trees. And so I feel divided sometimes, between wanting to be there, but not wanting to give up being here. Leaving Australia for South America last time was easier because I was leaving Canberra and a job, this time I am leaving home.

On a different note, something for the individualists, I heard this recently:

A wave was flowing along in the ocean, very happy, enjoying its time, watching the sun and moon and seeing other waves, some bigger some smaller. Then one day it was approaching land, it could see up ahead all the other waves crashing into rocks and disappearing back into the ocean. Panicking he cried out to the other waves, stop! can't you see what is happening? We're all going to get broken up on those rocks and disappear back into the ocean!!

Are you joking? said the other waves.
Look at yourself, you are part of the ocean, where does the ocean stop and you begin?

Hash House Harriers and a Tanzanian Wedding

As was noted in the previous blog, so much is happening every day that it is a difficult task to recall what happened only two days ago. So, I'll try and work backwards and see how much I can remember, starting this morning.....

Heather and I drove Ester (one of the house mamas for the childre's village) to the AICC Hospital to get a decent doctor to look at the nasty infection in one of her breasts. Previous doctors had prescribed all sorts of ridiculous treatments when she explained that she could not afford the antibitotics they recommended. As with all our employees we offer to loan them money for medical expenses which is then repaid in small amounts by making deductions from their wages - and they always accept and repay the money. I'm suprised it took development experts so long to formulate a plan like the Millenium Development Goals that focus on health as the key to development. The huge cost in fees and lost time at work is catastrophic for almost all families. Investment in health education and prevention strategies would save both the government and families money. There are of course other structural issues with the economy and corruption (not that I've seen any yet) - but to live a decent life all people need is their health.

Yesterday:

At midday we meandered up to the Catholic church at the top of the nearby hill and attended the four hour wedding ceremony of Doctor Simon and Elizabeth. Doctor Simon is the son of Gregory, who is the young father (uncle) of Nolasco - the local Chaga (entrepreneurial tribe) businessman who's wife teaches us Swahili. After the arrival of a brass band playing the back of a ute, the ceremony had an african gospel choir which sounded amazing in the small concrete church overlooking the Arusha region. After hearing the 14 days of Jesus (or something like that) in Swahili we jumped into a minivan for the wedding procession to a well flowered roundabout in town where the photos were taken for about 10 minutes, the procession then returned to the Edmund Rice hall where 500 Africans and four Mzungu (us) waved hankerchiefs, cheered, shook hands and at one point - after being introduced as Doctor Simon's friends who have travelled from Australia for the wedding - danced down the centre of the hall waving our presents in the air for the bride and groom while loud African pop music deafened us all.

The day before yesterday (Friday):

Drove into town with a few guys in the back of the ute to collect some timber for the building. Did some banking and food shopping along the way. Heather and others went to St Jude's school for orphans to see how they run the place. Came home and wandered down the road to Gregory's place to watch the wedding cow get slaughtered. The slaughtering was postponed until the following morning so we stayed for a beer (Eagle - normal beer) and another beer (banana - smoky horrible stuff) from the beer brewing cauldron in his lounge. Then walked the 1.5km to the dala dala (minivan) stop. Rode the dala dala into town hanging out of the door holding onto the roof. Crammed inside for a second as we passed the traffic police. Then switched dala dalas to head across town to Stiggy's - a mzungu hang out where the Hash runners meet every Friday afternoon. Ran the Hash, too many 'checkpoints' where we had to wait for others to catch up, and felt like a shocking mzungu running through village's without stopping and greeting people properly. Saw some stunning views from the hill we ran up and down. Got back to Stiggy's for a dinner that took 3 hours to arrive due to a jazz night attracting a big crowd of people. Met a 12 year old American girl with Downs Syndrome, her father was playing the piano and her brother waiting to get on and play the guitar, her mum was at home so she was left to fend for herself amongst the people jostling for table space. We were fortunate enough to pull up a chair next to her and I was besotted from her first smile. She was the sweetest little girl and it almost brought a tear to my eye every time I made her laugh.

The day before that (Thursday):

I spent the morning drawing life size internal organs and tacking them to a human body I drew from stuck together paper. These were for Heather's health education classes that run from 2-5pm Monday-Thursday. The first day these classes were run (about a week ago) it was a very emotional experience for everyone as we saw the excitement of the Mamas to learn and the feeling that something was being imparted that would make a real difference - and that the wheels of change were in motion. The energy back at our volunteer accomodation was incredible. The way that Heather interacted with the women, teaching them with respect, compassion and understanding was something that everyone was in awe of. I don't like to gush stuff on a blog, but she really did something that I don't think she even knew she had in her and made me feel so proud for her and of her. I also fitted in the end of month accounts wrap-up, uploaded some photos of the first afternoon of teaching the women (and the game playing and education with their children).

I've lost track now. Still looking for a gym. Found an egg source down the road. Loving the diet of beans and lentils and rice and occasional meat.