As a disclaimer, I managed to find the only disfunctional keyboard in the internet cafe, so please excuse creative punctuation and spelling - some keys are missing or not working. The shift key is also MIA and this capslock business is seriously slowing down my creative energy. Ah well. The title to this entry is different than originally planned - read on to see why!
First of all, my flights here were uneventful. This is almost unheard of...in fact many people who fly with me once refuse to do so a second time. Between massive delays, lost luggage, and terrorist threats, I have a hard time getting through airports. In fact, when I checked in for the Amsterdam-Kilimanjaro leg of the journey, they even booked TWO seats for me. TWO!! Apparently because I am so tall, and the plane had 100 empty seats, they could do this, but in my eyes it is an important first step in my lifelong goal of being upgraded to business class. No one ended up sitting in the third seat, so I did the sensible thing and lay down across all three to claim my territory while everyone was moving around shortly after take off. Sleeping was helpful as I had been jet lagged and up all night in Amsterdam, watching 2001 A Space Odyssey with Dutch subtitles and a three hour Proactive Skin Solutions infomercial starring Lindsay Lohan and Jessica Simpson (in Dutch).
All my luggage arrived, including a 30kg suitcase filled with school supplies, soccer balls, books, etc. My plan of avoiding excess baggage fees with nothing but charisma seems to have worked, and despite being more than 10kg over my limit, they didn't charge me. Thank you, KLM!
Lewison, Jill's husband (Jill is the American who runs the Emmanuel Centre), picked me up and aided in maneuvering the 60kg luggage cart through the parking lot. The drive from the airport to Moshi is about an hour, although most cab drivers can make it in 45 minutes, and involves hurtling through darkness with the odd set of headlights coming straight at you then swerving after some horn honking. The rains were unbelievable - as if we were driving under an open faucet. Tanzania in the rainy season puts Vancouver to shame. We headed into Shanty Town, which was, at one time, an actual shanty town, but has since been bought by some European millionaire and sold to Westerners living in Moshi. The houses are generally surrounded by tall fences and gates. I'm staying with one of Jill's friends in a "guest house". Sophie and I measured, and our room is just a little bit longer than a king size bed. For those of you who have a king size bed, I suggest putting three suitcases filled with dried fruit and art supplies and the odd tshirt, toothbrushes/shampoo/soap, two mosquito nets and a night stand on the bed, and hang out on it for a few hours with a friend. For added fun, hit your head on a 5' high door frame prior to getting on the bed. It may be small, but it is extremely safe, and the family we are staying with have been very welcoming and supportive. They have even offered us the option of eating dinner with them every night until the kitchenette is built on the patio outside our room.
Anyway, my first day in Moshi was spent alone waiting for Sophie to arrive in the evening. Juma, a cab driver and my new best friend, drove me around from Celtel to Vodacom figuring out how to unlock my phone, and then followed the rapid Swahili directions of how to activate it. After a brief stint at an internet cafe I headed to Jill's house to visit. She had a baby two weeks ago, and Tanzanian custom dictates that new mothers stay in the house for 2 months after giving birth. She is American, but her husband is Chagga (the predominant tribe in Moshi), so they are compromising and she is staying in for one month, with short excursions to visit neighbourhood friends. Acacia, her new baby, is absolutely stunning. Jill's two adopted children, who are 8 and 5 years old, keep asking her when the baby will get darker, because at the moment she is considerably lighter than Tanzanian babies. Being that she has a Caucasian mother, this is somewhat to be expected, but apparently she is already darker than when she was first born, and her skin will continue to change as she gets older.
I headed out to get Sophie at the airport with Juma, and we ended up having to wait for an hour because Sophie's flight was delayed. During this time I learned how to make meat and banana stew, so it was a productive wait. I had banana soup a lot last year, and it is surprisingly not banana flavoured. Thank goodness - I had visions of spooning something that tasted like children's banana flavoured antibiotics into my mouth. After collecting Sophie and her dad, Patrick, who decided to come to Moshi for a holiday during part of our trip, we headed back to Moshi. It wasn't raining so the insects were out: giant insects with huge translucent wings. It was actually quite eery driving through clouds of of these things. I suspect these might be the termites/flying ants that are fried and eaten as local delicacies (the wings are pulled off first). I can see why - there are an abundance of them.
I'll skip ahead here and gloss over the rather mundane details of sorting out our various supplies for the boys and unpacking, but I will briefly describe the Insect Incident (as it is now known). Basically, we had the light on, there was a hole (there IS a hole) in our window screen, and our room was filled with insects. Despite carefully tucking in our mosquito nets and spraying 100% Deet on our ankles (which stings quite alarmingly), I woke up with 25 bites on one ankle...ankle, not including foot or lower leg...just ankle. So either these mosquitos are attracted to Deet like bears are attracted to bear bells, or I have a pox of some sort (I assume I was vaccinated against small pox so I am guessing chicken?). It was fine until I started walking around at which point they became so itchy I had to scratch them. I slathered on cortisone cream, and onward we go. Despite any precautions (eating bananas, wearing pants, sitting near candles, you name it!) I am always completely eaten by insects. I attract them. If you are planning a tropical vacation and are concerned about being bitten, I guarantee that bringing me along will divert most, if not all of the mosquitoes. I'm better than citronella.
We headed to the internet cafe and walked around town trying to meet up with friends from last year, including Ibrah, the volunteer coordinator at CCS, and Margaret, who works at the Centre. We found out that Margaret has now opened ANOTHER centre with 23 more kids, some as young as 2 years old. They are orphans, whereas the kids at the Emmanuel Centre are ex-street kids. This is indicative of the huge need in this community, but also the amazing willingness of people to do things to help - Margaret lives at the new centre to look after the little ones, and still sees all the boys at the Emmanuel Centre. While we were chatting to her in the Coffee Lounge (not to be confused with the Coffee Shop), a Maasai warrior walked in to buy juice. There are a fair number of Maasai warriors in Moshi, most in traditional dress (shukas, or large colourful blankets with sandles made of car tires), but I still get excited when I see them.
We headed to the Centre at about 3:30, when the boys were heading home from school. They all go to different schools to avoide being ostracized as "Centre boys", so they arrive "one then one then one", as explained to us by Raymond, who works at the Centre. When we drove up Gilbert opened the gate (Gilly-berty), and when he saw us had the biggest smile. His teeth are spectacularly white - he could be in a toothpaste commercial. We walked through the gates and hugged him and then started greeting all the ladies who work there. It was so nice to see them. There is really nothing like Tanzanian hospitality. I found Timo next to the cooking shack who had been killing a chicken (I noticed after shaking his hands and giving him a hug - oh well), and then heard high pitched toddler talk coming from the picnic table. Frankie! He let me pick up (even though he is a "big boy" now) and gave me a big kiss on the cheek, that was fairly full of beans and left a charming residue. He kept saying "Miss Kyla, Miss Kyla" instead of "Mitchy Kyla" like last year. He is at nursery school now and his English is really progressing. He has a slight lisp, which is really endearing, and knows "yes" and "mango", "cow", etc. He calls Sophie "Chofie", which is also really endearing. I also realize why he was in so many of my pictures from last year - he is ALWAYS around. On your back, sitting on your feet, playing with a marble...we also found out that he can throw a frisbee like a pro. I'm not exaggerating - he sends it sailing across the field for about 30ft, backhands it, and avoids hitting the cows. The baby cow has also grown (well....obviously), and its small white spots have expanded to make it look like a cartoon dairy cow rather than a black calf with small white spots.
The boys kept arriving and the ones who were already there would yell "Miss Kyla!" and then the name of the new arrival. Frankie joined in the general celebration and would line up to hug them as they arrived home. Some of them really seemed like they could not believe that we were back. The older boys were a bit shy and didn't really know what to do, but the younger ones would come charging in with ear to ear smiles. Eli was really shy and wouldn't talk for quite a while, and he sat in the corner of the veranda and I said "Eli, I missed you" and he said "me too". Micah is no longer a pudgey little boy, he is tall and slender, and has amazing soccer skills, bouncing the ball on one foot for about 5 minutes before he drops it. For an 8 year old, that's pretty cool. Kelvin is still skinny, but taller, and still has a deep man's voice in a tiny body. Lineka is really tall and really beautiful. His English has improved. It was really great seeing them...my description doesn't really do it justice.
We gave them fruit snacks (ie. candy with added vitamin c) and mini kaleidoscopes, and they all sat scattered around the yard staring into them and turning them to make the shapes change. Sophie started a basketball game and most of them joined in, but Kelvin kept sitting on the bench next to me with his kaleidoscope. I asked him what he saw and he said "I'm see...love". Unprompted, out of the blue, that is what he answered. I asked him what colour love is. "Pink....and some blue". Then Frankie jumped off the picnic table with my umbrella in an unintentional homage to Mary Poppins. Never a dull moment.
A fairly intense basketball game ensued, and Lewison, Raymond, and Raphael joined in (Jill's husband, and the two adults who look live with the boys respectively). We filmed part of it, and almost every shot we have includes Frankie talking in the background asking us in Swahili to give him the camera or pretending to talk on my cell phone. We are going to have to find some distractions if we are going to film anything successfully. Or make a movie called "Frankie Uninterrupted". We did get a funny shot of him crouching over a piece of cardboard, and underneath the cardboard was a small hole he had dug and put his kaleidoscope in to hide it. For about ten minutes we asked him where it was in Swahili and if he could show us, and he kept pointing to the covered hole and shaking his head, then making kissing lips at the camera.
Well, my time at the internet cafe is almost up, and I have survived the weird keyboard. We are heading to the Centre this afternoon to do self portraits and make a wishing well out of a basket where they can write their wishes and keep them. It should be fun.
It is still about a million degrees here, hotter than I have ever seen Moshi, with not a rain cloud in sight. Odd, to say the least!
Thanks for reading, I'll try and update again soon!
Kyla
Tanzania's Flag
Map of Tanzania