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Nicola woke up at 6:30 AM to leave for the airport. Although we said goodbye last night, she woke me up and we gave each other a final, groggy hug goodbye. She has been a really nice roommate and a pleasure to spend time with. I am getting two new roommates tonight – a mother, daughter team. The mom's name is Toni and the daughter's is Ali.

The old volunteers who are still left, Drew, Andrew, John, Sonja, Sarah and I are invited to a going away dinner for the ones who are leaving soon. I slept in until 9:00 this morning – my record for here. I am usually up at 6:52 and have the getting ready routine down to an art. Lotion up with sunscreen, throw clothes on, fill the water bottle, eat oatmeal and fruit, garb my backpack and get in the van to head for work.

After a bite to eat and tidying my room, I went for a walk. I always allow extra time for this, because I get stopped frequently on the road for greetings. Today, there were a lot of people out trimming their hedge-fences, tilling their fields or going for errands. As I was walking, I heard my name "Mama Krreest". I looked and there were four teenaged girls walking toward me carrying big barrels on their heads. I felt badly because I have meet so many new people on the road and we usually exchange names. I have a challenge remembering names anyway, so that makes it additionally hard. So, I asked again for their names and they were Lucy, Doris, Judis and I already cannot remember the fourth one's mane – argh! I asked them what they were carrying in their barrels and they told me maize. They were carrying into town to the grinding machine so they could have ugali tonight for dinner. Ugali is a staple here, a white dish that closely resembles a stiffer version of mashed potatoes and is used in much the same way. I said goodbye to these girls and continued on my walk.

As I continued, I heard little voices excitedly saying "Mzungu, mzungu." Then, the sound of little bare feet cutting through the brush and they timed it just right so that their path crossed mine on the road. After all the clamber to get there, they didn't know what to say, so I shook their hands and said hujambo. Some asked for my name and others just smiled. This is a very typical interaction here. Sometimes kids will continue walking with me for quite a distance. Others will wave goodbye and giggle. Later on the walk, two tiny kids rushed at me and hugged my leg. Then I held their hands and said "Ruka, ruka, ruka" (jump), they giggled and we jumped, holding hands. It sounds kind of silly, but they loved it and didn't want to let go of me. I finally said "Kwaheri" (goodbye) and a woman passing by saw my dilemma and said something to them, and they waved goodbye to me. Seeing the kids is one of my favorite things on my outings. Makes me feel so popular.

I also greeted a lot of teenagers and adults of all ages. Ironically, they will see me walking fast and sweating and say "Pole" (sorry for your hard work) while they are carrying a huge load of corn on their heads or have a big load of timber attached to the back of a bike. And they are sorry for my work? Another man took me through all the basic greetings in Swahili and when I responded correctly, he smiled and said in English "Very good" People really like it when we can at least do the basics in Swahili and even attempt to help us when we get stuck. There is usually looks of amusement and even laughter, but always in good fun. Tanzanians are not mean people.

As the old volunteers are leaving, we are getting fresh blood. This weekend, six new volunteers are arriving. So far, we have Sarah (from Iran, in college in the US), Aina (from the UK), Anna (from the UK), Kara (from North Carolina). My roommates, a mother daughter team was delayed in Amsterdam and we don't know when they will arrive. So far, the new people seem very nice and fun.

John, Sarah and I had planned to go to 8:00 mass with Jessica. She was to pick us up at 7:30. When the time came, Jessica did not show up because she has had a terrible infection on her foot, which has gotten worse. For her to pick us up, she would have had to walk a mile to CCS, then another mile-and-half to church. Instead, she sent her cousin, Baby and her friends Linda and Agnes. It was very sweet that these girls were willing to walk a long was out of their way to escort us. The three were dressed beautifully. Agnes was in a green two-piece skirt suit Lovely although a little worn in places) and the other two were in print dresses. And, I was surprised how fitted these outfits were –regardless of their beauty and the fact that the girls looked killer in them. I would have not thought anything of them coming to church at St Vincent's of Osseo in these outfits, but in conservative Tanzania, I was not sure. I had worn a traditional skirt and matching blouse that I had made by Mama Nelson. But, at church, I did not notice any unusual stares, so maybe Western styles are okay for the younger generation.

Mass only lasted two hours due to the fact the priest arrived right at 8:00. The choir was again my favorite part. The music was very well rehearsed and done in lovely four-part choral arrangements. Agnes and Baby left for about ten minutes at the beginning of church and returned with a bench they had retrieved at a nearby house for us to sit on. They wiped it off with their hankies and we sat down. Two thid again struck me about this. First, the absolute respect for elders and second the graciousness with which they treat visitors.

A few weeks ago, I had met a man named Earnest and his wife Francesca and had a really nice discussion about Tanzania culture. Francesca does not speak much English, but Earnest, who works with the village chief, speaks very well. At the time we met, I had been invited to come over to their home on a Sunday after church for a visit. I had all but forgotten about this until today, when I arrived home from church and Earnest was at our gate to collect me. Apparently, he had decided that this particular Sunday was the agreed upon day for our visit. And, due to language barrier, my slight case of Alzheimer's or my innate deafness, I had not understood this fine point. So, although I must admit, I was looking for ward to a quieter afternoon today I was glad that I was home when Earnest came to pick me up. I would have felt badly to have forgotten this kind invitation.

So, Earnest and I walked the mile of so to his home. Now so you don't worry about my going off with a complete stranger in a fireign country, even though this is a rural area, there always people on the road and homes in sight. And, I have good intuition about people and I knew the Earnest and Francesca were good ones.

As we walked, I asked if I would meet their children. He said that their thirteen-year-old daughter was in Dar Es Salaam for a month of studying for her exams for form four secondary school. I thought to myself that this must have been a big feat for them to afford for her to go.

When I arrived at their little home, the first person I met was their eighteen month old son named "Nature". Apparently this name was well suited, because nature had not a stitch of clothes on from the waist down. And, for me, this was no unusual sight – see it five days a week, so it didn't phase me. His mom chased him down and put his nappy on. I also met their eight-year-old son Brian, a quiet, polite boy. This is the demeanor of most Tanzanian kids too. Whether in school or on the road, they are very courteous and well behaved.

Francesca offered me coffee with sugar and hot milk, which I felt comfortable taking because it was hot. But then, they offered me food. This is a dilemma because these people do not know that our prissy American GI systems cannot handle all their foods very gracefully. But, fortunately, one of the things offered was boiled eggs, so I knew I could accept. And fifteen minutes later, Francesca brought me piping hot boiled eggs – straight from their chicken.

Their tiny home was two rooms at the most. We were sitting in a room with a large bed, a chair, a sofa and a cabinet with all their dishes. A true family room, as I'm sure this is where they all sleep, eat and visit. As we were talking, it came out that Earnest had no job at the moment aside from his volunteer work in the local government. He asked me for suggestions for what to do. I felt so inept and on the spot, not knowing that much about the job market around here. I asked him about his skills – for example painting, construction or maybe tourism. He said that the wanted to take people on safaris, but that entailed a three-month course, which was expensive and would take him away from his family for three months. But he did say that was what was what he planned to do. I wondered how much the fee was and how long it would take him selling eggs, goats and doing odd jobs etc, to make the money to go. The funny thing is, people here ask us questions like these because they think we are so smart and all knowing. It really makes me fee silly and a little pressured that people view me in that way.

All the new and old volunteers decided to go out for Chinese food for dinner. The Panda has amazingly great food and is also cheap. We had a good time and myself and I came home after dinner because Gerry was going to call.

Gerry and I had planned a phone date because it is hard for us to talk due to the time difference. We had a really good conversation. He was sick with a cold, but was planning a few activities for the day. Apparently, he has cleaned out the freezer and pantry and will have to foray into Cub Foods soon. It's good – both of us exploring new realms. I talked to my mom last night too. It helps me prevent homesickness to talk to my loved ones at home.

The final two volunteers were finally located and were to arrive around 10:30 this evening. I had heard that they were from Minnesota and thought that was such a funny coincidence. So, after a long, terrible trip, they got here. The looked shell-shocked and fatigued – probably how I looked at arrival also. As I was visiting with them, I learned that they are not only from Minnesota, but from St Louis Park. The mom is an artist named Toni and Ali, has just graduated from St Louis Park. That night, they unpacked a little, we visited a little and they tried to sleep. A few minutes after we turned out the light, I heard rustling and saw Ali crawl down the top bunk ladder and get in bed with her mom. I also heard a little sniffling. I asked, "Are you guys okay?" They said "Just a little emotional." Then they had a lot of questions like "Did you go through culture shock"? When did you start to feel comfortable here?" I did say that I didn't feel too culture shocked, but I did have few times I felt displaced, asking myself "Now why the hell did I think this was a good idea"? Like this was definitely out of my cozy, gadget filled, electronic laden, suburban comfort zone. I said that had improved, but admitted that I still had moments even four weeks into it that I felt displaced. But I mostly am really treasuring this amazing and very enlightening experience. I think ups and downs are only natural in adjusting to a half a world away environment and culture. Anyway, we talked until the wee hours and fell asleep. I also have to say that having them here and kissing each other goodnight causes me to miss my girls even more.

Lillian, one of the four-year-olds at the orphanage has had these wart-like bumps on her face. I have seen these on a few of the other kids also, and have asked around to find out what they are. I have not been able to get a straight answer. But, today, I got an answer alright – one that I considered pretty horrifying. See what you think.

When I saw Lillian today, she had several Band-Aids or plasters as they are called in Tanzania. I could see that her face was bloody underneath, so I knew they had probably done something to remove those facial bumps. I asked the woman who is the resident nurse there what had been done. This woman is very sweet and has had a year of nursing training. She told me "I pricked them and opened them and the worms came out." I was not sure I understood her, so I repeated "Worms – live worms"? She said "Yes, live worms – Mango worms." These occur during the season when the mangos are ripe, which has been the entire time I have been here. She told me that they have to wait until these bumps are ready and then they can prick them and squeeze them out. She said that these spots bleed a lot, but then clear up and look really good. I was concerned that Lillian's face would be scarred from this, although I also realize she probably has more serious things to worry about than her skin. Anyway, I was obviously quite surprised and sickened to learn about the source of these bumps on the kid's faces. And to make it worse, I later learned that the people get these mango worms when they are in unclean environments such as if their sheets are soaked in urine.

This situation is frustrating, because I have picked kids up from their cribs and noticed that the sheets were wet. And, when I went to put them down, I noticed they were wet. When I mention things like this to Sister Imaculatta, she always says, "They are supposed to be doing this, so if you notice it, tell them". But when I do so, I feel an underlying resentment at telling these overwhelmed people one more thing they should do. But, on the other hand, I feel there are times they do cut corners when it is feasible to get things done. I also have to tell myself that I am not here to be popular with the nurses, although many are really sweet girls and I like them. One day, I was sitting in a chair and it had been a particularly rough day for me. I had been molested to the point that there was no part of my body that had been untouched. I even noticed at one point that my fly was down. My hair was mostly out of its ponytail and then I felt yet one more set of hands on my hair. I instinctively turned around in self-defense and there was Grace, one of the really sweet nurses taking my hair out of what remained as my ponytail. She carefully smoothed my hair and arranged in a little updo. Very sweet.

So anyway, the hygiene issue is a constant dilemma and every day, I have to make a choice on how to handle it. Often, if I have the resources, I will take care of the problem myself so that it gets done. But I also think that in doing so, I am not helping the problem long-term so that when I am gone, home to America. Will they have continually wet pants and runny noses? Will there be multiple puddles on the floor, will the kids never go outside and will they sit indefinably on the little pots, crying? Will the nurses smack them on the head, and will they sleep on wet sheets? I know they have limited staff to get all of this done and limited resources such as clean clothes or sets of sheets and limited staff to wash everything, but this seems like a basic health issue. So, whenever I see a set of wet sheets, I pull them off and put them where the dirty clothes go, so there will be no choice but to change them.

Today, another little girl, Vicky was getting dressed to go to the hospital for a malaria test. They always dress them up to take them anywhere or if visitors come. When Vicky came back, she was changed back into her faded, orphan clothes and she did test positive for malaria. She is such a beautiful, sweet little girl and even when sick, she does not fuss much or cry.

In addition to Vicky, several kids are running temps, have runny noses and coughs. The nurses say that this is the season for viruses here due to the dust. I'm not sure the dust has to do with it, but this does indeed seem to be the season. My pants have become a large hankie for children.

The little boy Noelle, who has the bad burn, had a very sticky leg today. I asked the nurse for the reason for this and she told me that they put honey on burns to prevent infection. She said that it gave the bacteria something else to cling to. I was not sure about the efficacy of this treatment, but I do know that these people do know a lot of more natural remedies which do work. I later learned from Andrew, another volunteer who goes to the hospital, asked about honey as a treatment and the physician confirmed that it is indeed used.

Mary Pendo, who had been a little sick last week, is back to her sparkly, impish self. I am so happy to see that because I know that any illness, no matter how minor for most, could mean the end of her life. Mary came up to me today, fished in her pocket and pulled out two Hershey's kisses and a sugar cookie to offer me. This was especially touching because I know that someone gave these to her special and that it is a rare treat. She also had some for herself and we ate them together. Then, she pulled out an unwrapped gumball from her pocket and handed it to me saying "Here, chewy gum". Again it was so cute and sweet of her that I took it with thanks and popped it in my mouth.

As I was sharing these treats from Mary's pocket, I realized that I was having a little internal discomfort. And, I realized it had to do with the fact that Mary has AIDS. I thought "How ignorant, I know that AIDS is not transmitted by sharing food and casual contact." But this hit me in an interesting way. It shed light on the reason why there is so much myth and fear surrounding HIV/AIDS. If I, who is educated on the transmission of this virus, suffered even a second's discomfort over taking treats from Mary, I can see how someone who is less educated might have fears over being near someone who is infected. I scolded myself, although for feeling this way even though it was not a purposeful thing. I do not in any way want to be responsible for perpetuating any type of myth which would cause further isolation for the poor should who suffer this illness. I do think that the answer here is major education on the cause and prevention on the spread of the virus. One young woman told me one day "This will kill all of us some day." I don't think that, but I do think that some major things need to take place in order to prevent increased incidence.

I had brought my headphones today and pulled them out of my backpack. I put on some music and put them on Mary's head. She was absolutely delighted and was just smiling and bopping around. Then, the student nurses came in and Mary put the earphones on them to listen. They were also so excited and were giggling like little girls. Funny how something we take so for granted is such a source of wonder for those not really exposed to them.

I finally convinced the nurses to take these cooped-up, cabin-happy kids outside. I thought we would play on playground, but the nurses got them all in a line and we walked over to the convent. This was not a long ways, but a challenge for the tiny and the sick ones. Little Vicky, Fabiana, Mbari Kiwa, Lydia and Grace had to be carried. We stopped at the statue of the Virgin Mary and the student nurses sang some lovely songs in honor of the Virgin Mary. These were so pretty, complete with harmonies and alternating parts. Then, I did something that my daughters would call me a dork for. I started singing the Carey Landry version of Gentle Mother. And, the girls and kids really liked it, probably because people here do recognize my true talent but maybe also because it was unique to them to hear an English song for Mary. All the while, little Moody was throwing a red-rubber ball the Virgin Mary and running to retrieve it. I thought "Well, Mary is the consummate mother and will not be insulted by this natural behavior of a three-year-old boy.

Andrew, a young volunteer from Canada was leaving tonight, so at his job placement, Honey Badger Cultural Center, they had a going away party for him. The school kids (whom I also teach) had a few songs to sing. They did these in beautiful harmonies and had dancing to go along with it. Then, each had a letter to read and to give Andrew. These letters talked about their families, the money situation and the fact that they are looking for sponsors in order to afford to continue to go to school. The kids were very shy and nervous to read in front of us, then came over, bowed or courtsied to Andrew and handed him the letters. The object was for him to take them home and see if there are people back home to sponsor any of the kids. As I have said, this village has the poorest of the poor and this is the only chance for these kids to break the cycle of poverty and do better for themselves and their families.

Today, the assignment I had was teaching the use of did/did not and have/have not. This was again a challenge, because the exercise in the book was to change sentences. For example, "I drove the car". The students had to change this to "I did not drive the car." So, this involved not only adding the words did not, but changing drove to drive. How do I explain the changing of these additional words in the sentences when these kids only know limited English anyway? I really wonder if this old, outdated English exercise book is the best choice for this class? Also, since there is nothing else available, do we just use it anyway, or come up with our own lesson plans. The teacher is hard to communicate with. His English is pretty good, but he also seems a little spaced out or something – I can't really explain it. Frustrating nonetheless.

After work, Simon, the patient soul who drives us around to our jobs picked me up from Honey Badger. He had a couple of errands to run in Moshi and asked me if it was okay if he made a couple of stops. Of course I said yes. First, because Simon is always so accommodating to all of us and second, he is interesting to talk to because he is so knowledgeable about Tanzanian government and the culture.

The first stop was at the pharmacy to pick up some medicine. As we were pulling off the busy street to park, I could hear a crowd of people yelling. We looked and there was a mob gathering across the street around a Dahla-dahla. I cuold not see, but Simon was able so see what had happened. The Dahla-dahl had hit a motor bike. Simon had told us on another day that if someone hits someone else in a car, they have to quickly get out of their car, put the injured person in their car and take them to the hospital. And, in the past, if someone fails to do this, the crowd beats them - sometimes to death. They do not tolerate crime here. So, apparently, the driver had not gotten out of the van quickly enough so people were yelling at him to get out and help the injured biker. He must have done it, because the crowd had thinned by the time we got out of the pharmacy.

Then, we went around the block and right in front of us, another car had hit a motor bike and another crowd had formed. Simon saw the actual incident and said it looked very bad. We went into a supermarket and by the time we came out, it was cleared. As we were driving, we saw a man sitting in the back of a pick up truck supporting another man. It turns out this was the man injured in the second accident. Can you imagine being injured on the street and having a stranger pick you up, throw you in the back of a truck and drive you to the hospital?

Jessica still has a terrible infection on her toes. Now it has gotten to the point where she can hardly walk. Sarah, another volunteer offered to get a taxi to take Jessica to KCMC to get it looked at. It turned out that they were there for 5-6 hours. First, Jessica had to walk herself to med records to get her chart, which took awhile to find. Then, it took a long time to see the general practitioner. After the GP looked at it, Jessica was referred to see the skin specialist who diagnosed an infection and gave her antibiotics. She was told that if she started to feel unwell or develop a fever to go to the emergency department. She is at risk for a systemic infection and we along with her mom will be watching her closely.

After diner, Andrew (from Canada), Sonja (Philly Eagles cheerleader) and Sarah (from Maine) left to go to the airport. These good-byes are always hard because we have a lot of contact with one another and suddenly, they are gone. And despite promises and good intentions, we know that we will get busy with life and find it hard to stay in contact.

This morning, I had extra help at work. Ali, my roommate from Minnesota and Jaffary (young man who is the son of one of the CCS staff were there to help. And just as I think I understand the routine, it changes. Today, the kid's ages 2 to 4 were not around. I found out that the student nurses had taken them to the classroom to practice teach. So, that left us with the four toddlers, Mbari Kiwa, Noella, Noelle and Emily (they pronounce it Emille). Little Noelle's burn is looking better every day, so the honey treatment must be working. But, all the kids seem to have runny noses and coughs now and appear more tired. Sister Immaclata says that this is the season for viruses because of the dust. I'm not sure what the dust has to do with it, but I can sure say that my throat feels irritated a lot because of it. So, this morning was spent with each of us getting time to hold one baby each and I really loved this. It is rare to hold one at a time. If I ever sit down to hold someone, a few more appear and I wind up with three on my lap and flanked by a few more leaning on me. I love this also, but feel that they really like to have the individual attention too. I brought out some baby books I had brought from home. We looked at those and had a nice, quiet time. Jaffary and Ali are absolutely wonderful with the kids and I love having them there to help.

At 10:00, the older kids were brought in for morning milk. That officially ended quiet time. Lillian's face looks really good this morning. The Band-Aids are off and I can not even really see where the open spots were. Philipo and a few other kids still have their bumps. I talked to the nurse who does all of the medical care of the kids. She told me she had a year of training for this. She said that the Mango worm season is almost finished and she will open up the other kids worm sites when she has time. She is a very sweet lady and I really enjoy talking with her. She also told me that little Vicky, who along with Noella, I have fallen totally in love with, has malaria. Except for appearing tired, Vicky does not really appear sick. She is so sweet and good-natured and even the other kids love her. The big kids like to pat her and make silly faces at her to get her to smile.

On the humorous side, I had brought some bubble gum to pass out to the nurses and Mary Pendo. Mary was chewing hers and suddenly I heard a pop and Mary just laughing. I looked and she has gum all over her mouth. She got such a kick out of this and was really belly laughing. She has such a cute sense of humor. She was laughing at herself and sometimes she would quit for a minute, think about it and start up again. Her giggles were totally contagious and she had us all laughing. I like to make Mary as happy as possible because she is such a delightful, little soul, is tireless in helping with the kids and of course, I know she is not long for this world. I will remember her for her sparkle, her impish smile and sense of humor, wearing a green checked dress with a sash and puffy sleeves. This is the dress I most often see her wearing. Sometimes a few days in a row. I see the kids wearing the same outfit multiple days because they don't change them unless they are soiled. But this dress – it somehow fits Mary's personality.

I have meant to stop at a shop called Tahea to purchase some pants and sandals. This shop is an initiative to help women start and maintain their own business. The items in the shop are things made by these women. Historically, the lives and situations of women here are less that fair and their self-esteem is low. So, there are a lot of such women's groups springing forth and I hope these continue to grow. The women in Tanzania are actually the foundation of the family and many don't realize the quiet strength they posses.

So, I went into Tahea. It is a small, narrow freestanding shop roughly ten by fourteen feet. They have what they call "tie and dye" cloth which they have made into skirts and pants. They also have jewelry, painted batiques and many other items. We have a CCS volunteer named Kara (from So. Carolina), helping them build their business). As I entered the shop, the woman, whose name is Nema, who was working there said one of my favorite Swahili words "Karibou" (welcome). I love this word because it will be a lasting memory of how welcoming these people have been to a woman from Minnesota who lives a rich, cushy life and whom they may never see again. They do not show any signs of envy nor do they fail to attach because they know I will leave. Their hearts and doors are open. So, I picked out a pair of "tie and dye" drawstring pants and a pair of beaded sandals. I then realized that I did not have enough money on me to pay for the whole thing. I told her I would come back tomorrow with and buy the items. She said, "no problem, just take your things now and you can send the money with Kara tomorrow." Can you imagine going into a store in the US and having them allow you to take items out of the store in exchange for a promise?

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