Africa: Day... Ive lost count already

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The bednet, in all its white glory, has forsaken me. I slept soundly, believing I was safe beneath its folds, only to be awoken by the drumming sound of a buzzing, a buzzing characteristic to none other than flying insects… or something. Either way, it was a bug, beside my head, and it got through the BEDNET! I know it’s not as tragic as it seems, I am taking anti-malarials, but that’s besides the point. I feel like I’ve been betrayed by the promises of safety and security withheld in the wondering folds of this bed “net” thing. Oh, how mundane life here has become.
I am writing this by candle-light, alright to be nit-picking, I’m writing this by the electronic lighting of the computer screen. But, right beside me, is a candle giving off a mellow glow, much more calmer than the harshness of this screen. Today was a day spent without electricity, or internet connection. It took some adjusting; however, if anyone is ever looking for a way to force themselves to relax, having no power, internet connection or cell phone is a pretty good way to do it. Mind you, being in the middle of East Africa and isolated from most of modernity never hurts either. It’s an adjustment to make, especially this evening. I saved my laptop battery power for tonight having an inkling that darkness may preclude most activities and since I’ve already napped twice today, read for a good many hours, cooked, eaten and showered, there really isn’t much left to do. I even went for a run today, my first since arriving which may be some kind of record since I’ve been here, oh five days already without one. This probably won’t come to any surprise to anyone, especially knowing that my first time out in London I wasn’t able to find Hyde Park, I got lost. Not really lost-lost, just the kind of lost where you think you’re going in the right direction only to look up and realize that, nope you’re not headed up the road towards NIMR but back where you were twenty minutes ago. Usually when this happens (because it does happen a fair bit), I’m able to look on a map and sort out where it was that I went wrong. No such luck this time. Fair enough, the only map of the city we have here was drawn by one of the boys at Streetwise and so it doesn’t really have all the streets or their names and it isn’t really in proportion, still you would think you could figure out how you circled back on yourself. Oh well, better luck tomorrow… or maybe the same luck would be OK because I’m happier to be lost and knowing where I am than lost and, well, actually lost.
Suzanne was kind enough to take me for a drive around the town today and point out the good shopping spots. After passing through the markets and stalls on the outskirts, there are a few “larger” grocery stores but they don’t amount to anything larger than a corner store back home. They do sell a variety of dried goods, milk, and, meat that doesn’t come from a carcass!!! OK, well the carcass that it comes from isn’t hanging up in front of you blowing in the afternoon breeze. The town sits at the edge of Lake Victoria and Treehouse is on a small hill to its rear. There are two or three main roads and tiny alley ways and side-street that are packed with pedestrians, motorcycles and the odd vehicle that tries to venture through. “Packed” is a relative term, for Mwanza, these streets seem busy but it is nothing like Portabello Market on a sunny afternoon. There is the “new” Mwanza and the “old” Mwanza but little difference between the two. The sunlight and arid weather seems to have aged “new” Mwanza and the difference really lies in the brightness of the interior and the types of commercial business they house.
I should explain Suzanne since she is an infinite wealth of information and has become an invaluable source to me living here. She is French-Canadian and runs Treehouse as a fundraiser for her NGO Streetwise and has been officially working with Streetwise for the past four years after establishing it here in Mwanza. Streetwise works with street children, there are about 500 kids in Mwanza living in the streets without regular access to food, water, or sleeping facilities. Streetwise, from what I understand, provides them with a place to go during the day for support, trying to help them to re-unite with their families and return to school or, if the funding is available, helps the older children to find work-placements. From her knowledge of the continent, I gather she has been living in Africa for quite some time. Her husband was originally from South-west Africa before it became Namibia. Regardless, she is a large part of the reason that I haven’t stopped to question what the hell I’m doing here and taken it all in stride. She reminds me of a grandparent and shares that caring, comforting approach.
I’m off to… chill in the dark until I get tired enough to fall asleep or something like that. Tomorrow we’re off to Geita and I don’t really know what to expect but we’re staying in a guest house so it can’t be that bad, can it? I mean “guest house” sounds cozy… ah, something to wonder about until sleep comes, that and the bed-net.

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