Joyride

Travelling again tomorrow. It’s going to be real stress free and exciting. Sunday when we reserved our bus seats, the ticket seller said that he doesn’t have the tickets there so he just wrote in his logbook. He never gave the tickets until yesterday, after I hassled him. He promised it Monday then Tuesday, his reason is that we already took a picture of the logbook with our names on it with our celphone, that’s why its enough, funny him, doesn’t he know that the inspector rips the tickets into two after checking it, what if he rips our celphone apart. There are other bus companies available though. Its either Business class comfy, where you ca still breath inside and First class, if you are sitting and breathing at the same time, we opted for the latter, 2 seaters, crosswind type (strong wind crossing inside the bus every time, Krus krus ang hangin as Ate Ofie puts it in tagalog). Travelling to Dar is really exhilarating, the huge bus continuously dodging reckless bicycle drivers and suicidal animals. Every time we experience a hump in the road I just can’t stop imagining that we ran over a chicken, dog or if a really big hump a cow or a Volkswagen. Just pray for their souls instead of sleeping. I always bring my religion with me when I need to step up the bus. Then there is this 60km rough road, really rough road during summer and marshland during rainy season. I never passed there without a car or a truck stuck in the mud or a hole. Mia, one of the volunteers here lost her shoes when she decided to get out of the car to check what’s causin traffic in that part of the road last time. It’s her first time to pass there and I think it would be the last too. Good thing it’s just her shoes, there might be something else lurking beneath those murky waters. Then the worrying of the engine of the bus overheating or anything going wrong. Last time our back tire exploded, good thing it was the back part if it was the front while cruising on that speed, pieces of my beautiful body will be scraped using a spoon in the road for sure. We waited for an hour for it to be fixed then continued, an hour later, the same tire exploded again. Oblivious of what happened or maybe because of the blasting stereo featuring Kiswahili religious songs the driver keeps on going. He just decided to stop when the tape finally came to an end and we are going down a hilly part. He might have thought that God is not with us after the songs ended. Since the spare tire is already used up we waited for another bus to come along to borrow their spare. Took us another 2 hours. Good thing we got out of there alive and arrive after 12 hours, the usual travel time is just 8 hours. The same thing happened to Nelson on his way from Dodoma. They got a flat tire and they don’t have a spare so they need to wait for a long time that the passengers got rowdy. The driver wielding a roaring chain saw seems to unafraid of the others brandishing their small knives and pipes. After people get bloody and all, (no one was cut in two) which is a good thing the police came and arrested the driver. Who drove the bus…that I didn’t get. Anyways during the chaos Nelson keeping an open mind dialled the VSO emergency number……. but there is no signal hehe…We will travel again tomorrow….this will be fun.

Mchina

You are an Mzungo if you are a fair skinned foreigner with lots of money. Mzungo means Europeans but white people are all the same here, they have loads of moniieesss. Mchina in the other hand is someone who can jump really high, catch a fly with a pair of chopsticks and can kick butts. Apparently many people here have witnessed the great powers of the Chinese, courtesy of pirated kung fu movies. That really shows the effectiveness of education thru movies and television. That’s where I fall, as an Mchina, but I’m a true bloodied Pinoy, doesn’t know any martial arts,( I'm trying my best to improve my running ability to compensate) but happened to be blessed with dead gorgeous eyes… what a pity. What always go under my skin, apart from everything else when it’s hot is when people upon seeing me will try to converse in an incrompehensible-parrot-like-chinese talk. It goes like ay-spik-layk-dis-cos-ders-ants-bay-ting-may-bols which is like a baby talking while being born. There’s nothing else to do but respond with @#$78*1?’%4 which is also a bunch of letters I don’t understand because its %$#@*&^% hot here. Anyways, I still like the greetings here which go around three minutes per person you meet.. The thing is, each greeting consist of asking how are you today (habari sa leo?), how’s your work (habari sa kasi), how did you wake up (by opening my eyes) how’s your house (nyumbani), how’s your children (watoto) and so on but you should always respond with nzuri, poa, swali which just means good. Meaning you are not really allowed to reply on what you really feel, even if your sick, not feeling well, you cannot open your eyes because of sore eyes, your house is burning, you cannot speak because you are choking from your own snot because you have the Mexican flu (Attention VSO, no data yet about Mexican flu in Tanzania?) or your children are the spawn of the devil, you still ought to say POA! You should lie, it’s always good to lie, and that’s why I just walk with a bag over my head every time, to avoid the exchange. Children on the other hand are different greeting machines. They always start with Shikamoo (I kiss your Feet or I’m under you knees) with a slight bow of heads. You will feel like you’re a king or a prince or something important (in your dreams) when they do that. The correct reply for that is not (go ahead and kiss it!) its marahaba (my pleasure or you are under my knees) but really these kids wont really go down to the ground and start smothering your feet with wet kisses. They will just follow it up with Ninaomba pipi or simply PIPI! (I like candies) so give me one or we will kill you and the grammatically and politically incorrect, Give me my MONEY! The greeting that every newbie’s will definitely like here is when someone you greet will reply SALAMA! It really means peaceful but imagine a big burly black guy holding a big knife while smiling and greeting you with salama. I just walk with my back side against the wall if ever that happens.

All about mangoes

One sweet delicacy that I missed since coming here is the dried mangoes from Cebu. These are strips of mangoes freeze dried or chemically dried making it not so dry and chunky, like bubble gum (we call it not so dried mangoes) and coated with sugar. It’s a truly healthy snack just like chocolates coz they both came from fruits. Anyways, these mangoes are made from Philippine mango which is the real mango. It taste like the real thing, unlike other mangoes which tastes like…. I don’t know. I had a fill of these special fruits when I was young. We had a big mango tree in our backyard teeming with fruits twice a year. It gives shade from its big trunk and leaves, branches giving rooms for beautiful birds, plus all the fruits that I can pick and eat. Then my mom sent somebody to cut it. The fruits keeps falling on the roof, leaves constantly blocking the drain pipes, all the bird shit and all the caterpillars hanging around like Christmas balls. So we had mango firewood for a month. Here in Ndanda we also have mangoes trees as well. What a surprise! There is a mango tree when I look out of my room window, there is a mango tree when I look out the laboratory window but theres no mango tree in my bathroom window coz I don’t have a window there. Basically they are everywhere. During mango season these quite trees becomes great battlefield arena. Pregnant women, old ladies with baskets, people in crutches and casts stays and awaits under these trees for the….. FALLING. They don’t believe in using a pole (that’s too tiresome), climbing the tree (too dangerous), so they wait for the fruits to fall. Patiently on a lookout from early morning till late noon, constantly monitoring for the slight change of wind, always aware of other people sudden movements. Then the DASH, the sudden rush of all the people for the falling fruit. Like gladiators, pregnant women using their bellies as ramming grills, guys in cast for shields and crutches for weapons and old slow ladies using their cunningness and toothless smiles to charm the others from stomping her to death, all running for the single fruit. At the end of the day, they show their piles of mangoes like trophies . When I was in kindergarten somebody told me that the human heart is shaped like mango unlike the apple shape that we always draw. I got a zero mark from that advise, for I drew a heart and colored it yellow. My teacher did not believe me, I guess she needs to read more about human hearts.

Saskia 10

Perhaps the only volunteer speech therapist in this part of the word. A beautiful ,vivacious, smart, caring and loving woman who had so much ahead of her except for one tragic April 30, everything just went to a halt. Her contract is supposed to end this June. She is already packing and getting ready to go home to Holland but after the incident,she suddenly needs to go home earlier than expected. Family members are supposed to be excitedly waiting for her to get off the plane, beaming and smiling, instead they awaited for their daughter whose lips unable to smile, hands unable to wave, and heart already ceased to beat. Their beloved daughter, our co-volunteer,our friend, already gone HOME.. Children she help, wont forget, friends she met, will always cherish the memories, family members she loved, will always be reminded. People might be sad some even angry, but Im sure shes in her rightful place . She might be smiling now, she might be happy now. At eased with all she accomplished, fulfilled with all she did, satisfied with all the smiles, friendship and warmth she brought to our hearts. She’ s happy to be HOME

Saskia Tien..we will remember

Sunday Trip

I injured myself AGAIN. I think its just part of being Atletang Pinoy as Sir June puts it. Last time I sprained my ankle while playing basketball. A big foot was suddenly catching mine while going down from catching a ball in midair. The last thing I know I was down in the ground, writhing in pain. Sunday I was happily jogging along when again suddenly a rock jutting out of my way tripped me. I can remember it in slow motion. I was just about to climb out of this canal when the end of my shoe kissed the rock. I tried to regain my balance but my other leg got rubbery on me, so I supported my whole body with my left arm but the inertia is still there pushing me forward making me tumble over, hitting my left knee on all the gravels. The result was bloody palms and scraped knee. I never expected it, that even my G-shock got shocked. The supposed to be scratch resistant glass, now had cracks on it. Good thing that the injury was in two places that’s why I got over the pain fast. It’s still a long way home but I was able to make it walking. It make me smile remembering what my friend Humprey say about people tripping. “Buti naituon ang nguso, kung hindi bangas ang tuhod.” ”Good thing he fell with his lips/face first or else hell get a scraped knee.”