"What's the magic word?" - "Ubeligige!"

Alright, here comes a massive update in record time because I am scheduled to make chapatis this afternoon with Eli.
I don't really know where to start. A few weeks ago the boys were all scheduled to have HIV tests. I came out of my "classroom" (a small room between the kitchen and younger boys' bedroom) and there was a lot of commotion in the living room. Margaret, the Tanzanian director, was there explaining something in Swahili, and Kelvin came running up to me saying, "Miss Kyla, Miss Kyla, you poke?" and pointing to his arm. Then everyone started laughing and shouting and Margaret translated that they wanted to know if I would get tested. So I said yes and spent the next hour explaining that having a blood test isn't painful or harmful.
The next morning we set out to walk to the clinic in town. Jill picked us up at the round about where the tarmac road stops (Moshi is divided into areas surrounding specific round abouts) and we all jumped into the back of her truck. We spent the ten minute drive laughing hysterically, the boys laughing at us because we were sitting in the truck, and we were laughing because we were about to fall out of the truck. This helped the general pre-needle jitters.
It was an interesting dynamic because some of the younger boys were nervous about the test itself, but a few of the older boys looked absolutely terrfied. I tried to reassure them that it wouldn't hurt, and Fabien, who is 18 but looks like he is 25, said that it wasn't the test it was the results that they were afraid of. They all know how HIV is transmitted, so their anxiety provided us with some insight into their pasts.
A few younger boys went first and we did lots of "you're so brave" and exclaiming over their bandaids. Then I had blood taken with 15 boys crammed into a closet sized room, all offering to hold my hand and looking very nervous. Staff and boys alike seemed impressed that we all got tested. It's a good habit for them to get into. Only Gilbert (known to the boys as "Gilberty") didn't get tested because he was terrified of being positive. He's only about ten years old.
We handed out cookies and jumped back in the truck. I was sitting on the wheel of the truck clutching the edge and worried that Gilbert would fall out b/c he was behind me. He didn't seem too worried, though, as he was braiding my hair rather than holding onto anything.
I think I have already mentioned that we have a new cow. Frankie and I have long conversations about "wapi mtoto ng'ombe?" and "njoo, twendea" which basically means "where is the baby cow" and "come, let's go". His English repertoire has also extended to "come here" rather than just "come" and is utilized when reaching for your face to blow a very wet raspberry on your cheek. He has also taken to pretending that he is a dog and so walks primarily on all fours when inside.
Every second Saturday is head shaving day at the Centre, and so after this weekend many of the boys are completely bald. They think it's hilarious when I ask "where's your hair?", and like to put my hand lotion on their heads. The older boys look stunning when bald b/c they have amazing bone structure (not that they ever have enough hair to hide the bone structure...but anyway).
For the past month all of the boys have been at home because they have been on winter holidays. It seems very empty now that they are back and school. We had promised to take them swimming, but then I got sick, and so when we took them last Tuesday it was only the boys who don't go to school (the ones that we teach). We had a really great time even though the YMCA is outdoors and there was no sun so it was freezing. Barely any of them can swim, but they are completely fearless and most were floating and splashing quite successfully by the time we left. We were going to take them all on Saturday, but there was a "bonanza" on in town, so we went there instead. It consisted of a football game and some live music. A comedian did impressions of politicians during half time and when he did George Bush 1,000 pairs of eyes turned to us (the only wazungu) to see our reactions. It wasn't very funny but we all did our best to laugh for the sake of the crowd. I don't think they understood what he was saying, because he esentially repeated "I am very good friends with Osama Bin Laden" about 15 times in English. It was a lot of fun, and the boys had a really great time. There was an odd drunk man who kept buying us peanuts and cookies to "repent for his sins" and dressed a lot like Fifty Cent. It is sometimes unfortunate to see which aspects of American pop culture have made it to Tanzania.
In the second half a famous Tanzanian pop start arrived and started singing (whilst the poor football players kept playing). It was quite exciting b/c we could recognize songs he was singing from the radio, etc., so he was quite famous. Margaret got quite flustered and wanted us to leave right away b/c he was singing about "sex and love" which was inappropriate for the children to hear. Some of the boys were also plugging their ears, and when I think of American pop music I wouldn't really want small children listening to it either. So we trooped out and called the dala dala we rented. It is quite remarkable that we were able to go into a stadium with more than 20 children and less than 5 adults, sit seperately (the kids wandered around a fair bit), and all still manage to leave together. I was once again very impressed at how well the boys look after eachother.
They were all quite disappointed at not swimming, so we promised to take them after church on Sunday. I went to church with them for a lively 2.5 hours of singing and dancing, then they went back to Margaret's house to eat quickly before meeting us at the YMCA. When we arrived they were already there, all of them because the school boys were there too, and Frankie had tagged along. Thank goodness Raymond (known as Uncle Raymond), a man who lives at the Centre and looks after the boys, arrived with water wings. We paid and got changed and despite my lecture that I had both Fabien and Raymond translate for maximum comprehension, they continued to run on deck and dive into the shallow end. Frankie took off his shirt and shoes and stood in his pants, unable to go in b/c the older boys insisted that it was too cold and b/c he had no extra clothes. Raymond stood with Frankie and cheered on the boys. Both he and Raphael are so sweet with the boys, it is quite amazing. They are really very paternal for men in their early 20s. Anyway, we swam for ages and halfway through Raymond asked whether Frankie could come in naked b/c he really wanted to try. There are signs all over the place about half-nakedness being permitted only in the pool area, and so I had a feeling that a naked 3 year old migh draw some stern looks. I put a tshirt on him so that he appeared clothed from outside the water, and we jumped in. He got in with no problem and did what most small children do in pools - he peed all over me. He was swimming for about a foot on his own from person to person and absolutely loved it. He had no problems putting his face in the water, and was happy to hold hands and kick. Quite remarkable and extremely cute. This time I had remembered to bring extra towels, so we wrapped up shivering boys in pairs and sent them to get changed. They had also all remembered to bring extra shorts because last time we had suggested to those who didn't have any to use towels or kangas to wrap around their waists, which they thought was very funny but embarassing and out of the question. I know that after circumcision boys wear kangas and aren't supposed to leave the house because they need rest, so maybe that was why they refused to walk the four feet from the pool to the dala dala. Speaking of circumcision, in a few weeks a few of the younger boys are being circumcised. I don't think they know yet - they all know it's painful so it's probably best that they don't have time to dread it.
A few hours in chlorine did wonders for some of the younger boys. Kelvin and Frankie looked positively glowing after getting out of the water. Frankie sometimes reminds me of the character in Peanuts who has a dust cloud around him - I can't remember his name. We also managed to swim without any injuries. Timo, Micah's brother, got his arm stuck in a railing once and Micah started shouting "Miss Kyla" like the world was ending, but Timo was unharmed and not that upset.
I have discovered that Eli, who is about 14, loves to cook. He is one of the most hilarious and remarkable individuals I have ever met, and continuously amazes me. He lived on the streets for quite a while, and thus speaks English extremely well (b/c of the need to interact with tourists). He struggles with reading and writing whether in English or Swahili, but is incredibly quick at math. We walked to town to go to a market to buy apples and cinnamon to make applie pie filling (they don't have an oven so a complete pie would be a bit difficult), and once we were in the market he completely took charge. He walked down all the crowded aisles first, making sure that we had put our wallets away prior to leaving. Edward, another older boy, would wait for us and the younger boys to follow Eli before bringing up the rear. It was like a protected entourage. Eli also walked around chatting up the vendors and getting free samples (and pocketing a peanut or bean every now and then) before we left to walk back to the Centre. Many of the boys know a lot of people in town, and Eli appeared to know everyone. The Centre is located outside of town in the factory district, past a slaughter house, an outdoor brick making factory, and a truck station. Needless to say you meet interesting people on the walk. We were walking past a crowded dala dala station when Eli took my arm and marched me through a crowd of people, and then made me promise never to "by foot" (walk) there alone because the "thieves is so much". He then instructed me to put both hands on my bag, telling me that "they come up like friend with arm like this, then take fingers like this" and showed me how to pick a pocket. From what I gathered, I was almost pick pocketed (although I didn't have anything in my pockets) and he had moved me out of the way and shouted at the suspected thief (who he appeared to have known). The next day in school Kelvin had me put things in my pocket so he could show me how he could take them out without me noticing. It is easy to forget that the boys have had very difficult pasts, but every now and then there is a reminder. It is quite amazing seeing how much they have changed and manage to lead happy childhoods most of the time. Every now and then they seem far too old.
The apple making was a huge success. Apples are ridiculously expensive here at 500 tsh a piece, so there was a limited quantity, but everyone had some and the school boys arrived home halfway through the cooking process, so were included as well. The day before Eli and I had made porridge with dried fruit and almonds which everyone ate as well, and the day before that some of the other CCS volunteers came and brought ice cream and candy to make sundaes, so last week was definitely a week of treats for the boys. They all love peanut butter, but it is fairly expensive, so I buy jars as treats to put on their bread at breakfast. I also brought my boys unsweetened dates, which they loved. They definitely wouldn't turn down chocolate biscuits, but it is nice that they equally enjoy fruit and peanut butter.
Saying good bye to them will be terribly difficult. They know that I am leaving on Saturday and are all writing down my phone number and drawing me pictures of houses that I can live in so that I won't have to leave. We made calendars as an art project one day, so I showed them that I leave "on 21" and they keep bargaining "how about 30?". I am buying them postcards and stamps which they feel is a good idea, and I showed them pictures of Vancouver from a book I bought and they are all getting ready to come and make totem poles one day. We planted tomato seeds a few days ago and Kelving has decided that he will make a totem pole to plant next to his tomato plant...I'm unsure of the thought process behind that idea.
Last weekend I went to Zanzibar. We had an amazing time snorkeling and visiting Prisoner Island. I got henna done on my leg (which Atanas insists on attempting to scrape off with the back of his pencil, so I have to be careful when he disappears under the table during class). We left for snorkeling from the beach at the hotel we stayed at and boated out for about an hour. We then dropped anchor next to one of the fishing boats that defy physics by staying afloat when grossly over capacity. There were fishermen in the water too, who, as our guide Abdulah informed us, had spear guns. We were all mildly concerned about getting in the way of these spear guns, but the fish we wanted to see weren't the ones they wanted to eat, so it all worked out. Abdulah hopped in the water with us and swam down to pick up starfish and shells to show us. This was probably not very environmentally sustainable, however at the time we were all too awe struck to notice. We were in the water for quite a while when I got stung by a jelly fish and hopped back in the boat (it wasn't a bad sting at all, just a welt from a tenticle which went down in abuot half an hour). On Prisoner Island we fed massive tortoises. They looked prehistoric, and one was 150 years old and came up to my hip when sitting. They have amazing eye sight and move alarmingly quickly, and we were each cornered several times by a hungry group, which was a bit nerve racking. We then walked around on a beach that looked like a scene on a postcard, and then boated back to the hotel beach. I'm really glad I don't get seasick as the water was really choppy and poor Ryanne felt like death warmed over on the ride back. We got off the boat and there was a boy with a monkey on the beach charging money for photographs. The poor monkey looked quite scrawny.
The day before snorkeling we went on a spice tour, which was a lot of fun. We walked around a plantation being given things to try and having to guess what they were. We ate ginger and turmeric (the root, not the powder, which stained our teeth bright yellow), got cinnamon bark straight off the tree, picked fresh cloves, etc. We also ate star fruit and passion fruit fresh off the tree, and a boy climbed a 60' palm tree to pick us young coconuts. They then wove us crowns and purses to put the fresh spices in, cut the tips of star fruit to make bindis, made sunglasses out of pineapple leaves and made us pose for photographs (on our cameras). We looked like complete fools, but it was a lot of fun.
We were in stone town one night for dinner and ate at a huge outdoor market. They are known for their chocolate and banana pizzas, which were really delicious although sickly sweet, and also had every type of seafood imaginable, rice, chapatis, etc. We stepped behind the row of vendors to eat and found ourselves in a grassy area packed with women and small children sitting down, desperate for food. There were no garbage cans, and the moment tourists put a plate on the ground the kids pounced on it looking for scraps. It was really quite depressing. We bought plates of fries and oranges to distribute, and although I was at first uncomfortable offering food to the women for their children, they all accepted gratefully. It was really quite tragic.
The hotel we stayed at was built around the Chuini ruins, one of the first buildings with running water in the world. One exterior wall had a screen placed on it, and they hotel had an eclectic selection of movies. We watched the Lion King and the hotel staff came and watched with us. It is really quite a frightening movie considering it was made for children.
The decision to stay in on that night was partly because we were sick and tired of our tour guide, Mohammed. The night before we had gone out with Mohammed as our van driver, and the night had started out well but took a frustrating turn for the worse. We went to a disco that was a lot of fun. It was fairly empty to begin with, and there was air conditioning, and people were mainly there on dates so we could dance without having to avoid unwanted attention. It started to get quite full and it was getting late, so we decided to leave because we were getting up early to go snorkeling. After finally finding Mohammed to drive us home, he drove at 90km/h down rural dirt roads back to the hotel, ignoring our shouts of "POLEPOLE!!!!!" which means "slowly". We arrived back at the hotel safely despite my life flashing before my eyes. He was a bit of a sexist pig all weekend, only listening to the man we were travelling with and hitting on Ryanne at the disco.
Our flight was indefinitely delayed on the way back to Moshi. We sat at the airport for ages without any answers, and after I walked back through security to the ticketing counter they decided to move us onto an Air Tanzania flight. It was general seating, and Sophie and I found two seats together, sat down, and had the most unpleasant flight of our lives. On the way TO Zanzibar the plane was swooping around and the 84 year old Catholic priest next to me took a break from praying and clutching his rosary to tell me that the pilot had grown up in his village. He didn't seem to have a lot of faith in his flying ability. We landed and the plane went completely black having lost all power, but other than a few technical difficulties it was ok. On the way back we were seated behind two South African men that appeared to be completely insane. I had no idea what they were talking about but they were kneeling on their seats so that they could turn backwards and talk to us, grossly invading our personal space. It was then that I smelled what was in their "water" bottles and realized that they weren't just being friendly. It was an hour of grotesque comments and disgusting pick up lines. The flight attendant refused to serve them any more alcohol, especially after one of them spilled a glass of red wine on the woman next to him (who appeared to be travelling with him but was completely sober). This allowed us enough time to plug ipods in and ignore them, but they did request that we take a group picture at baggage claim and one of them gave me his business card. He is a polygrapher.
Anyway, we sprinted off the plane to avoid them, realizing that b/c we had changed airlines and they had taken our tickets we wouldn't be able to catch the Precision Air shuttle back to Moshi from the airport. As we were running out of the door we ran into Peter, a driver from CCS who was there picking up some new volunteers. After much relieved hugging and a brief explanation that he may need to defend our honour, he gave us the keys to the van and we happily collapsed waiting to return to the homebase. Talk about good timing!
Flying to and from Zanzibar was quite hilarious. I was never once asked for photo id...or id of any sort. I also had a pocket knife and a pair of scissors in my bag that I had forgotten about that I didn't discover until we got to Zanzibar as they didn't search our bags. They searched our backpacks with clothes in, but only one of the four bag searchers had any problems with liquids or gels and when I explained that I would have to be hospitalized without sunscreen she gave me a stern look and put everything back in my bag. There was a CCS volunteer from a different homebase in Moshi who was hospitalized after that weekend because of a sunburn. We saw her at the airport and it looked like hot oil had been poured over her legs. A day later she was at St. Joseph's (Ryanne works there and was able to update us). Our liberal application of SPF 55-70 all weekend may have looked odd, but was definitely worth it.
Speaking of sunscreen, the boys think it's hilarious when I put it on. Many of them will also dab some on their noses to join in, asking "what is this?" They are really quite hilarious. This brings me to the title of this entry. The boys were asking for something and I said "what's the magic word?" and Eli answered "Ubeligige!" (which is phonetic spelling b/c none of the boys knew how to spell it and I still haven't checked in the dictionary). I said "what's that in English?" and he went on talking about a plane and something to do with the air and saying "you know" a lot. I asked Peter later on what it meant and he said "Belgium"...as in the country. So the magic word is now "Belgium". They keep me in stitches.
Three minutes left here, and I need to go to the Centre. Sorry for lack of proof reading and many typos.

---

---