Tuesday, March 7^th

Under the weather…

I woke up this morning still feeling tired and coughing.  I was able to enjoy the trip to Zanzibar even though I was not feeling completely up to par.  But, the cough seems to be getting worse – a dry, hacking cough and it prevents sleep, an activity for which  I have a particular fondness.  I am a little discouraged by this because I feel it is slowing me down and I have less than three weeks to finish a lifetime of experience here.  A lot of people ask me when I will come back to Tanzania.  I always tell them that I really would like to someday and that I have to tell myself that I will, or it would be too sad for me.  But the truth is, I don't know if I'll even see this part of the world again.  And, I'll most likely never see any of the kids at Upendo again.  I think this will break my heart much more than it will break theirs.  And that's ok too because although they know nothing else, they have suffered the heartbreak of abandonment and loss and are facing some steep challenges in these years which instead should be full of softness, hugs and attachment.  Formative times!  Anyway, I am getting off on yet another tangent when I am supposed to be writing about Tuesday, March 7^th.

Unsavory news at breakfast…

I was talking to Anna, the twenty-six year old lawyer from the UK, who is volunteering at the Honey Badger.  She and I agree that Mama Lucy is an astounding woman.  Anna has been helping in the school (called OKAT).  This is a school which Mama Lucy founded and I have been teaching.  Since Anna is there, I have not been going because the headmaster only wants her there twice a week to teach English. 

Now the unsavory part.  Anna and I were both talking about the fact that there seemed something a bit odd about the Headmaster, Mr. Ngumi.  I had felt it from the first time I met him, but really could not put my finger on it.  He seemed friendly enough and never did or said anything inappropriate, but there was something. It was so subtle; I don't think I even wrote anything in my journal about it.  The odd thing is that Sonja had gone out to the school to do a talk on HIV and had mentioned to me that he kind of gave her the creeps.  I had the same slight feeling, but dismissed it as my imagination or possibly a cultural difference causing it.

So to go on with it – Anna has made it a project to interview all the students at the school about their family background and their reasons for wanting to go to school.  As she was doing so, she interviewed Frank, Mr. Ngumi's son, who is a very bright student.  Frank told Anna that his dad is separated from his mom and living with his girlfriend.  He went on that his dad used to beat his mom, especially after he got home from drinking – which sounded like was a daily occurrence.  And, with that, he had a lot of affairs and some additional children.  He has lost more jobs than could be tracked.  Of course, Mama Lucy, who was sitting next to Anna, was hearing this story for the first time.  She was extremely dismayed. Later, she told Anna that though she had not known about Mr. Ngumi's past, that she was not entirely comfortable with him.  Since he was hired on a trial basis and Mama Lucy was not completely satisfied, she also and had another person lined up to fill the position.  But, since this person was not available for a couple of weeks, they would have to carry on as usual, not telling him anything until his last day.  They were worried he might get violent if told early.  I feel that they should get rid of him immediately and in the interim, use myself, Anna and the other two teachers do all the instruction until the new headmaster can start.  But, I think the thing Mama Lucy is worried about is that in the past two weeks, since Mr. Ngumi s arrival, the class has grown from 7-8 regular attendees to around 17.  And the number grows every day.  Anna also says the school is growing also because people have heard that she and I have been teaching there and the kids have told their friends and it has spread word of mouth.  I like believing that because it makes me feel that maybe I did help them out with my lame attempts to teach English to them. 

Another story…

In interviewing the kids, Anna was telling me about Reneva.  She is a one of the original students whom I met while teaching.  She is tall, has a sweet face and is very quiet and shy, but bright.  She told Anna that she is the youngest of about 10 kids in her family.  When her dad was younger, he used to beat all of them, but now he is older and apparently in ill health and no longer has the energy to carry on in this sport.  Her mother apparently is a lovely who woman, but is suffering from typhoid.  When asked why she wants to attend school, she said "I want a better life for myself and my family."  Heartbreaking and inspiring.

There is another boy named Sila who passed his exam for secondary school – which is a huge feat, but of course his family lacked the money to send him.  So, until this OKAT school started by Mama Lucy, he had no way to go to school.  So, Anna decided that she, herself would pay for him to go to secondary school.  She went to the school which he had been selected to go, and talked to the headmistress.  Anna was told that since it had been a year since Sila had taken the exam, that he would have to re-take it.  Anna is very persuasive, but could not budge the woman to consider accepting him on an exception.  So, very frustrating, but maybe after this year of preparation at OKAT, he can try again and go forward.

Another young woman told Anna that her parents had died of AIDS and she was living with her grandmother.  She walks for two hours each way to go to school.  Can any of our parents who have stories of walking miles to school, in a blizzard, uphill both ways have a story to top that one?  Anyway, Anna asked this girl what she wanted to do with her life.  She did not want to get married  - she just wanted to get a better life for herself and her grandmother and stay with her.  Many of the young women who have no parents are eventually raped by someone and wind up pregnant and on the streets.  Anna thinks this young woman is protecting herself from this fate by staying in school and out of harm's way.  But as we know, her grandmother will not be there forever.

Anna and Mama Lucy have finished interviewing all the students, but the problem is that every day, there are two or three more showing up, so this may be an on going process and Anna is leaving in a week.  I plan to try to spend some afternoons helping her in the time I have left.  The next step in the process is for Anna and Mama Lucy to go to the villages with the kids to their homes and give the families the information on the school and to interview them.  They also want to take photos of the kids and families to create a profile on each of them.  Then, they will assess if a family is able to pay 6,500 TSC ($6.50 US) a month for the school, although it actually costs $30.00 per student a month to cover teachers, food, materials, etc.  They will not turn anyone down, but if a family can pay , 6,500 TSH.  Anna is working with getting a charity set up so that people can sponsor these students to go to school. I think they will be asking for $30.00 a month. 

Work today at the Orphanage…

Noelle's burn is looking amazingly good now.  The dressing is off – no sign of infection and.  So, perhaps honey is a great, natural treatment for a burn.  Who knew?  I have to say that I am impressed that with the facilities they have, the nurses have done a remarkable job in treating a very serious burn.  The only down side to it is any of us who have held Noelle are susceptible to ants because it is impossible not to get honey on some part of your body when you are dealing with a wiggling toddler.  And actually, Noelle is very calm, almost alarmingly so.  They have not let him walk since he got burnt which was about three weeks ago and it is obvious that he has lost some strength and balance.  He does tend to favor that leg and I am going to make it a point to help him regain his strength and confidence in walking so he doesn't have any ongoing problems. 

I have been watching some of the work they do in the dispensary.  The room is not large, but is equipped with a medical table and an array of medicines and first aid supplies.  I have not figured out the system of how they get all the kids in for their various treatments.  I think the nurse has the names and ailments in her head and there is no schedule or documentation of treatment that I can see.  How refreshing to see when I come from an environment where if a patient so much as farts it has to be documented in triplicate, in vivid detail and in approved medical language.

But when it is a particular child's turn to go to the dispensary, one of the student caretakers will bring them in.  I have seen them bathe and care for ringworm sores and treat lacerations so far.   Plan to spend more time observing there.

As I have mentioned, several kids right now are sick – snot rivers, coughing and crying.  Apperantly this is the season for it.  One day, I was on the playground and a nurse was going around with a glass jar and a dropper, squirting something into the noses of the kids.  I asked her what it was and she told me saline.  I remember using that for my daughter, Catherine when when she was a baby to help unstop her nose.  But what surprised me is that she was using it on one kid, then the next kid and so on.  They think here that this illness is due to the dust, but I think, no actually I know for a fact that it is a virus. I know this logically and personally because I have been suffering from it and it is more that just an allergic reaction to the dust.  I have had a temperature, slight aches, fatigue, queasy stomach in addition to the cough and stuffiness.  So I thought, they are just unwittingly planting this virus into the nostrils of each of these kids where there will be fertile ground for growth.  So, now they will all be sure to get it.  But how to dispel a myth or thought process that has been for years?  What do I know?

Also, I learned that Sister Immacualatta is suffering from malaria.  But, she has scheduled herself to go into the hospital on Wed for the proper treatment which includes IV antibiotics.  She cannot go now because she is busy preparing for a visit by some government officials on Tues to present them with boxes of donated toys and clothes.  These boxes have been sitting in the new play area, unused for a few weeks because they have been waiting for them to be officially presented.  This is a bit frustrating because I can see a box of legos, balls, doll and misc other toys that can be used to entertain the kids.  Then they might abandon such activities as biting and pinching one another due to extreme lack of anything else to do.  But, anyway, between not feeling well and the stress of planning for the visit has caused Sister Immacualtta to appear more on edge than usual.  I cannot imagine feeling that sick and carrying with an umpteen-hour day.

Official visit…

The kids had to stay indeed today due to short staff.  This is trying, but today, we had an unprecedented form of entertainment.  Suddenly, the student nurses started whisking the kids into the dormitory.  Winnie, who speaks a little English explained that there were going to be visitors.  I saw Sister Immaculatta and she told Ali And me that there were some government officials coming to officially hand over some donated boxes of toys and clothes. 

Actually, these boxes have been in the playroom for a few weeks.  It has been hard to see these untouched items go unused while the kids run out of clean  clothes and play with broken toys.  Another sad thing, the boxes were half empty because somewhere in transport, someone had taken out the best items, leaving the rest for the orphans.  Bastards!!!

The student nurses pulled out these frilly little dresses for the girls, spiffy shorts and shirts for the boys, nice shoes and socks and started to calculate how many they had in each size and made a plan for which kid should wear which outfit.  They were also pick-combing their little bit of hair, washing their faces and noses and putting lotion on their faces.   It was fun to see them all clean and dolled up, but bittersweet.  Also hard knowing that this is for only an hour and off would come the dresses, the noses would crust over and the old shoes would be replaced.

The government officials were an hour late in coming and finally Sister Immaculatta got exasperated and said "We have to feed these kids, they are so hungry".  So, we did the best we could to help them eat their porridge lunch with a minimum of collateral damage and spillage.   They finished just in time to see a parade of about ten cars file up the driveway.

As far as I could tell, there was a man and a woman who were some kind of regional politicians.  They were accompanied by several staff and about ten press people.  One of the men took Phillipo from me, kissed him for a picture and tried to hand him off to one of his staff.  Apparently little Phillipo had taken a shine to the man and would not release his full-body grip.  Finally, the man offered Phillipo back to me and he lunged into my arms.  Made me feel good.  Also, glad he didn't scream like mad at the thought of going to me – wouldn't look too good.  So now Sister Immaculatta can go to the hospital to get her malaria taken care of. 

Back at the ranch…

In the evening, I was still really coughing – nothing new.  Mama Grace, who is about my age, so I really should call her Dada – sister, but Grace seems like all our moms, so I call her Mama Grace.  Anyway, Grace is a nurse but is now working for CCS, coordinating the volunteers.  She came in the living room with a steaming mug for me and said "Drink this tea.  You should not drink cold water, only hot liquid."  The tea was very interesting to taste.  It was a little sweet, but had a kick.  It turned out that she mixed up a concoction of garlic, ginger, lemon, cloves and honey.  I had heard from a woman on the plane from Zanzibar that she used this tea mixture when she was sick.  So, drank it down.

Wed, March 8^th

Still sick…

Unfortunately, I was still really sick.  Last night, I absolutely coughed, almost non-stop.  I actually moved to another room so that I would not keep my roommates up.  I tried sleeping propped up and took some cough medicine given to me by Sarah, one of the other volunteers.  During the night is the worst time to be sick and not sleeping, because, the very dark side of my psyche takes over.  I had convinced myself that one of several scenarios would occur:  First, I was going to die of some terribly rare African virus and my family would never forgive me for going on this trip.  Or, second, I would survive, but would return home as a mere shell of the woman I had once been and suffer long, extended illness and my family would never forgive me for going on this trip.  Or lastly, I would indeed recover, but just in time to return home and the rest of my entire trip would be ruined and meanwhile, I would be useless to the orphans. 

Mama Grace recommended that I stay back from work to rest and so I don't expose the kids who maybe don't have this yet.  So, I rested until late-morning until I got frustrated and got up.  The CCS staff has been so sympathetic.  Flora, Moses, Mama Judith and Mama Grace have all asked how I was doing and said "Pole sana" (sorry much).  Mama Grace decided to take me into Moshi to a pharmacy to pick up some cough syrup.  They have asked me it I wanted to go to the medical clinic, but I am taking my antibiotic and really thought there was nothing they could really do for me.  So, she took me into town and I picked up a bottle of something that was labeled as something to take care of a dry, hacking cough – yes, describes me exactly. 

Creating a scene…

After I went to the pharmacy, I went to the small Internet café called Fahari – owned by a nice Indian man named Sajad.  This place is the only one, which has fast Internet, but the trouble is that it only has four computers.  But, I lucked out and found one open.  I sent some photos of my trip to my friends and family to prove that I was not really in the south of France and making all this Africa stuff up.

But while tapping on the computer, I started into a coughing spasm.  This one was one to beat all – red, bulging eyes, beat red, bulging face, snot and tears streaming and no ability to catch my breath or stop the fit.  So, I stepped outside so as not to continue to interrupt the rest of the patrons.  While outside, this continued and this nice, older gentleman came over with a chair, sat it on the sidewalk and ordered me to sit.  Though I preferred to stand or to walk it off, I sat.  He proceeded to start beating me on the back, causing me not only to cough, but to cough while experiencing stinging blows to the back.  Then, as I was trying to gat a sip of water, he ordered me "No, don't drink cold, only hot".  Then, since I continued with my attack, strangers on the street looking over alarmed and sympathetically, he told me to stay put "I will get you ????????? from pharmacy"  I did not understand what he said he was going to get, but it sounded like he said morphine.  I really wondered if a person could just walk into a place and buy morphine. 

I was not sure about taking whatever he bought for me, so I went back into the Internet café to talk to Sajad about it.  As I did, Sajad started hitting me on the back.  He came outside with me just as my new "phycician" returned with an envelope with ?morphine?  Sajad asked the man what the medicine was and it turned out to be something that sounded similar to morphine, but was for asthma.  Sajad explained to the man that it would not be good for me to take this.  In the meantime, my body had finally stopped its spasming and had tapered off to intermittent coughing.  I thanked the nice man profusely for his help and for being so kind and offered to pay for the "morphine".  He refused to accept payment and pressed the envelope into my palm as of saying "you will need this later."

Beauty school dropout…

Okay, I am embarrassed to say that I am vain even while in Africa.  My friend and hair guy Bryan had sent along my hair color with instructions that even a non-hair professional like myself can manage.  So, tonight, my roommate Toni, from St Louis Park, MN offered to do the honors.  Now before you get judgmental, I have not washed my hair for four days and tonight was the big night to wash.  So, I was not wasting water, because I rinsed out the color as I washed my hair.  Toni is an artist by trade, so I felt in good hands.  And rightly so, she did a stand-up job – it looks great and the orphans will be able to stomach looking at me for another two and a half weeks.

Thursday, March 19th

Friday, March 20th

Last night, I coughed my brains out yet again.  When Mama Grace and Mama Judith had asked how my night was, I told them I had coughed my brains out.  Mama Grace looked extremely puzzled and said "Your brains?"  I explained that was slang for a horrible cough.  So now, yes, it's okay for you to feel sorry and say to yourself "poor Kristy", because that's exactly what I was doing.  During the night, I again had myself convinced that I had some rare form of African flu and would die here.  My poor family would have to live without me and also, they would kill me for dying in Africa.  Or, I thought, yes I will live, but I will be reduced to a pasty, frail bag of bones from my trip.  And it was so ironic, because for the first five weeks in Africa, I enjoyed high energy and robust good heath.  Replaying dark thoughts from the previous sleepless night.

But in the morning, I did awake, alive but fatigued from lack of sleep.  So I talked to Mama Grace and she called Dr. McCoooper at the Shanty Town Clinic for an appointment first thing in the morning.  Ironically by the way, Shanty Town is a really nice area – it's where the fat government officials live.  And it is just a few blocks from Upendo, so I could walk to work after my appointment.

Simon dropped me off at 8:30.  The clinic didn't open until 9:00, but the door was open and I walked in.  The clinic had cement floors, and simple furniture in the waiting room.  I waited for about thirty minutes and was called back by a very pregnant nurse.  She took me to a back room, which served as their lab.  She pricked my finger with a lancet, smeared my blood on two slides.  Then, she took a pipette, sucked some blood into it, and blew it into a test solution.  I have not seen this type of lab procedure since college in the early eighties. 

After a few more minutes, I was called back to see Dr McCooper.  He was a distinguished Tanzanian man, somewhere in his early fifties.  He asked me about my symptoms and I explained that I was not really feeling so bad any more except I could not sleep because of the coughing at night.  He said my lab tests had come back fine.  No malaria, no infection.  He gave me what I came for – cough syrup with codeine so I could finally sleep.  Yes, I was a drug seeker that morning at the doctor's office.  After my appointment, I went to work at Upendo.

Greeted at work by my clients…

When I came into the playroom, I was greeted by seven little heads and sets of hands all around my legs.  They really like to come up behind me, push their head between my knees so that their head pops out in front of my knees.  It looks rather like giving birth, but without the pain and gore.

Post lunch potty break…

After lunch, the kids are put on the pots.  At this point, they are tired and ready for a nap.  The students strip off and wet or too dirty to wear clothes.  They go around to each kid, wash their feet and legs – using the same rags and water bucket for all.  After they finish their business, they get fresh clothes and underpants (for the girls – pants or shorts for the boys).   So, the kids intermittently irritate each other or just cry during their potty sessions.  I have made a mission of making potty-time a fun time.  So, since I also have a rather captive audience, I sing songs like The Wheels on the Bus, Eensy Weensy Spider and everyone's favorite; Old McDonald.  This is a hilarious sight.  The kids, sitting semi naked, their fat rolled legs in front, perfect little feet flat on the floor, singing these songs and trying to do the actions.  I think I love this activity as much as they do and it does help prevent premature dismounts off the pots and makes them happier doing their business.

Volunteers enjoy an afternoon of languishing…

After work, all the volunteers had decided to spend the afternoon at the AMEG lodge where we can swim for $3.00.  This is actually a really nice setting with cushioned lounge chairs.  We ordered great pizza and just relaxed for the afternoon.  Everyone has been working hard and this was a welcome change.  And, though the rainy season is tuning up with night rains and scattered showers, we had a nice, sunny afternoon.

Evening walk….

I took a thirty minute walk before showering and dinner.  Now, I often hear "mama Kreest" or "Christina"  called from open windows inside homes, in fields or on the road.  It is so nice to see so many people who I have met and now recognize.  It's interesting too, this time of day, people have a routine.  Some kids are returning from school, sweaters on their heads or slung over their backs.  Some adults are returning from work.  There are a few drunken men returning from the bars.  And, I always pass one of the public water spickets where people come carrying brightly colored plastic buckets on their heads to get water for dinner, baths, etc…  Also, it is interesting to hear the variety of music coming form the various homes or businesses.  I hear American Rap/hip hop, African rap/hip hop, church music, African traditional and American contemporary. 

Saturday, March 19^th

I have had an amazing day….

Today, my fellow volunteers had decided to go into Arusha National Park to hike, spend the night in a hotel, go to dinner and go to a disco.  I had already done the hike and the disco is not really my thing.  Also, I am just starting to feel better after my spasmodic, coughing-fit-virus, so I don't want to press my luck, disco queen that I am.

So, I started my day with a little pancake/crepe type thing with natural honey over it and coffee.  Then, I decided to work on my journal, which is overdue by almost a week.  After I did that for about an hour, there was someone here working on the electricity so, the electricity was off for the afternoon.  I decided to go for my walk.  And, today, I put my camera in my pocket because.  There are so many pictures I want to take and there is not enough film in the universe to hold them all. So, I'll have to settle for ten rolls.

I wanted to just take pictures of the roads I usually walk and people. Taking pictures of people is tricky, because they do not always want to be photographed.  In fact, some people are unwilling to have their picture taken.  I asked Jessica why and she explained that they think that people will go and put them in a magazine and say "Look, see that monkey?  Or look at that girl, she is a prostitute."  Or "Look at that boy, he does bad things".  So, someone must have had experiences of someone abusing their photos, because there are many people who refuse.  Or, some people who will allow a picture it  you pay them money.  In addition, when I see a picture I really want I either don't have my camera with me, do have it, but by the time I wrestle it from , my backpack, the potential picture has already played itself out and the players have left the field.  This leaves me in the process of tuning the camera on, only to find an empty screen.  So, I kept the camera out and on, and no pictures readily revealed themselves to me.  So, I snapped a few of houses and roads.  But, then two kids came up to me.  As I have said, I usually meet so many people here that it is hard to remember the names.  But today, the little boy I met was someone I remembered because he was so sweet and has such a beaming smile. I said "Hi Simon".  I learned that his friend was named Clara.  I asked them if I could take their picture and they smiled for me and my ready camera.  And, I went on my way. 

On the way back to CCS, I saw Simon and Clara again.  They each took one of my hands and started to skip, so I joined them until I had to say "Ni ma choka" (I am tired).  They giggled and kept walking with me.  Then, I heard my name and looked up to see Mama Judith coming down her dirt driveway toward me.  Mama Judith is a very special woman.  Apparently, she is wealthy and originally owned the land that CCS is built on.  She sold the land, and retained a large area, which her home is on and a large yard.  Her husband has passed and her two grandkids live with her. 

Mama Judith also is in charge of housekeeping here at CCS and it is said that she does this for something to do because she does not need the money.  It is really hard to describe this woman, but I'll try.  Picture a Catholic, Tanzanian version of Maya Angelou and you are getting close.   She is probably somewhere in her sixties and has this incredible quiet, graceful strength about her.  She is someone whom I can never imagine being angry, but you would never want to disappoint her. I think she believes the best about people unless they prove her otherwise.  She is like a mother to all of us.   If we are away for the weekend, she tells us she has missed us and I believe she truly has.  She works her butt off, but in methodical and always graceful way.  And, if she sees that we need anything, she insists that she get it for us and will not hear of us lifting a finger if she is around.  She has a comforting presence.

So, I walked up her driveway and she said "Caribou – you are welcome".  So although I was sweaty and a little tired and wanted a shower, I went inside her home.  Before we went in, she was asking Simon something in Swahili.  She told me later that she had given him a pair of shoes and asked him where they were.  Then she told me "I worry for that boy – so sad."  I asked her what about him and she told me that he has just appeared in the neighborhood and they don't know where he came from.  She knows he is staying somewhere in the neighborhood and that his parents are dead.  She said "I can't even talk about it or I will cry".  Well, that got me started and instead of Mama Judith crying, she was putting her arm around me while I cried.  She said "It's okay, you have a soft heart".  So we went in to her house. 

Her house is the nicest one I have been in.  It has a living room with a rug and nice furniture.  Lots of holy pictures and a statue of the Virgin Mary.  She told me she was getting the house ready for a mass that evening.  She has a kitchen with two long tables for food preparation and a two-burner portable stove top.  She also had running water, a bathroom and shower.  She had me come back so she could wash my hands.  I tried to turn on the tap, but she said that the water was not working  because someone had cut the pipe.  So, she poured a pitcher of water over my hands.  Then, she had me sit in the living room and she brought me hot chai.  She brought a plate for me, put a fried banana and two muffins on it.  I had told her one was plenty, but she said "In Africa you walk a lot and you need to eat more."  So, although I was not hungry, I ate it all.

And while I was eating, I was witness to something I had not seen before – Mama Judith sitting down.  As we were visiting, I told her that I wanted to buy some clothes or do something to help Simon.  She said "God bless you, you have a kind heart."  My waterworks resumed and she had her grand daughter bring in a hankie for me.  Brenda just looked at me and said "It is hot isn't it?" 

Mama Judith told me that it would be good to find the woman who takes care of Simon, then decide what I could do.  She called her grandson in, said something to him in Swahili and  a few minutes later, he came back with Simon, Clara and a woman who was around my age (twenty-nine).  Mama Judith asked the woman some questions and learned that Simon's parents were her cousins and she had agreed to take him in when they died.  The woman, whose n