I'm sitting in the airport in Musoma waiting to go to Arusia and climb Mt. Meru. The airport is ridiculously small. There's only one gate, Gate 2; I think the 2 is intended to make themselves feel bigger. The runway is dirt, and it's in the middle of the town.
Security consists of a man digging through everyone's stuff. When the man went through my bag (the flap was in my way, so I couldn't see in) he hesitated at an item and was like "what is this?" I looked in and said, "tampons;" which satisfied him, but I'm not sure if he understood or just got the "you don't want more details" vibes. Then an Asian guy that had been hitting on me in the security line (it was like 9 am, and he was asking if he could pick me up when I return next week) also started pulling stuff out of a suitcase. It was actually Karen's stethoscope, and she got a bit defensive. He had played all buddy buddy with the security man and got behind the table with him.
Then, when we came in the waiting room, the Asian guy (who told me he was going to Dar, which is right on the ocean) decided to pack a fresh fish to take with him. They put it in a sack, two plastic bags, a box, and roped it up. I just don't quite understand.
I can hear the airplane outside, or maybe saying "right behind me" describes it better than saying "outside."
Friday, February 22, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
My Day, Plain and Simple (Tuesday, February 19, 2008)
Today I went by myself, but with a driver, to collect samples from our newest village. It's about one bumpy hour away, and is the village of our translator. We held a workshop there two Thursdays ago, and today was the first time collecting samples. Actually our translator, who is an extremely involved, dedicated filter person put on the workshop. We used it as an opportunity to gauge our own success, through his ability to be successful at holding a workshop.
There had been no new filters built, as no one managed to get pipe. Pipe is only found in the town I live in or farther away. Either way, there were two working filters, and a lot of really good vibes. I also helped to build another filter, although nearly all the prep work had been done, and we simply had to assemble the thing. After assembling the filter, we were fed breakfast bread and chai. It was sort of special for me, because I usually avoid eating on surveys. I have almost 20 houses in each of the other villages, and could not complete my work in a day if I ate at half my houses.
We then went to a non-filter home, which is what we use as our control group. It was the most amazing thing ever, the woman was a local midwife. She showed me her record book. It was where she recorded the date, mother's name and village, baby's name, and something in a column labeled "dead." I only looked at the first page, but of about 15 - 25 entrys, in the dead column all but three were vertical hash marks, one was a horizontal hash, and two were blank. I asked what the horizontal hash meant, and the translator said that the baby lived. So it sounds like all but one, or three, of her first 20 recorded patients died. Wow! Although that was in 1989. I really wanted to take a picture (we use our camera as a photocopier) of every single page. Anyway, on that first page she had about ten babies a month. In the survey, I found out that she had attended no school, and delivered her own children herself.
There was even a very pregnant lady just wondering around the room for a while. She picked up a pile of dried leaves and went out. I just wanted to stay and ask questions, but we finished the rest of the surveys and went home.
When I got home, I found that Ausubuhi had sliced his hand at school, and had to get stitches. Apparently he did it in the morning, but couldn't get stitches for six hours because his stomach had to be empty for the anesthesia. So he was totally passed out and everyone was just watching him. So I walked over to the lab to prep my seven samples (that was easy compared to the usual 45 samples).
Unfortunately, when I took the agar out of the autoclave, it didn't look quite right. So I swirled it a little, which broke the surface tension, making it erupt and land all over my hand. I wiped it off, and it felt fine, but about five minutes later it was soooooo painful. It was also bright pink, because there is red and blue die in the agar. Everyone who saw my hand said, "Wow, that's bad."
Later that evening I went to see the little guy, and he was starting to wake up. They had a matress in the middle of the living room for him, and I lied there with Sara and him. Otherwise, he kept wanting to get up, which didn't seem to work so well. Anyway we got the first laugh out of him, when we played the "pull open each others closed eyelids" game. Then, when the generator got turned on, we watched Al Jazeera, the BBC of the Middle East. He fell asleep on my lap and drooled all over my leg.
On Wednesday, it was back to the same old. We went to a village to collect samples and source water. My hand was so burnt that I had to wrap it a bit to avoid the pain from the Sun.
I got extremely annoyed when we met a child that Daniel told me was not in school because she didn't have the right color shoes at the moment. He told me it was just a rule. I explained to him that I could understand the rule if she had them, but chose not to wear them; but not having them means she can't wear them, so why shouldn't she go to school?
Back in town, the power had been off since Sunday morning. That was definitely a record for me, over three days. It's easy to live without power (minus blogging, which I do from my phone), but working without power is another story. Sarah and I agreed that we would be able to do the source waters after another visit (many of the source water tests require a spectrophotometer), but we were able, and going, to do the household samples. It was disappointing, but we decided it wasn't so bad. Just as we were finishing the tests, the electricity came back on. We started the source water tests, and were in the lab until midnight, again.
There had been no new filters built, as no one managed to get pipe. Pipe is only found in the town I live in or farther away. Either way, there were two working filters, and a lot of really good vibes. I also helped to build another filter, although nearly all the prep work had been done, and we simply had to assemble the thing. After assembling the filter, we were fed breakfast bread and chai. It was sort of special for me, because I usually avoid eating on surveys. I have almost 20 houses in each of the other villages, and could not complete my work in a day if I ate at half my houses.
We then went to a non-filter home, which is what we use as our control group. It was the most amazing thing ever, the woman was a local midwife. She showed me her record book. It was where she recorded the date, mother's name and village, baby's name, and something in a column labeled "dead." I only looked at the first page, but of about 15 - 25 entrys, in the dead column all but three were vertical hash marks, one was a horizontal hash, and two were blank. I asked what the horizontal hash meant, and the translator said that the baby lived. So it sounds like all but one, or three, of her first 20 recorded patients died. Wow! Although that was in 1989. I really wanted to take a picture (we use our camera as a photocopier) of every single page. Anyway, on that first page she had about ten babies a month. In the survey, I found out that she had attended no school, and delivered her own children herself.
There was even a very pregnant lady just wondering around the room for a while. She picked up a pile of dried leaves and went out. I just wanted to stay and ask questions, but we finished the rest of the surveys and went home.
When I got home, I found that Ausubuhi had sliced his hand at school, and had to get stitches. Apparently he did it in the morning, but couldn't get stitches for six hours because his stomach had to be empty for the anesthesia. So he was totally passed out and everyone was just watching him. So I walked over to the lab to prep my seven samples (that was easy compared to the usual 45 samples).
Unfortunately, when I took the agar out of the autoclave, it didn't look quite right. So I swirled it a little, which broke the surface tension, making it erupt and land all over my hand. I wiped it off, and it felt fine, but about five minutes later it was soooooo painful. It was also bright pink, because there is red and blue die in the agar. Everyone who saw my hand said, "Wow, that's bad."
Later that evening I went to see the little guy, and he was starting to wake up. They had a matress in the middle of the living room for him, and I lied there with Sara and him. Otherwise, he kept wanting to get up, which didn't seem to work so well. Anyway we got the first laugh out of him, when we played the "pull open each others closed eyelids" game. Then, when the generator got turned on, we watched Al Jazeera, the BBC of the Middle East. He fell asleep on my lap and drooled all over my leg.
On Wednesday, it was back to the same old. We went to a village to collect samples and source water. My hand was so burnt that I had to wrap it a bit to avoid the pain from the Sun.
I got extremely annoyed when we met a child that Daniel told me was not in school because she didn't have the right color shoes at the moment. He told me it was just a rule. I explained to him that I could understand the rule if she had them, but chose not to wear them; but not having them means she can't wear them, so why shouldn't she go to school?
Back in town, the power had been off since Sunday morning. That was definitely a record for me, over three days. It's easy to live without power (minus blogging, which I do from my phone), but working without power is another story. Sarah and I agreed that we would be able to do the source waters after another visit (many of the source water tests require a spectrophotometer), but we were able, and going, to do the household samples. It was disappointing, but we decided it wasn't so bad. Just as we were finishing the tests, the electricity came back on. We started the source water tests, and were in the lab until midnight, again.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Little People Do the Funniest Things
Ausubuhi has been over at the hostel, which is now full of 10 mzungu, almost every day for hours. I would have to say that if there are this many mzungu here for very long he is going to become insanely spoiled. Anyway, this morning he came over and I asked why he wasn't at school, already knowing he was sick. He dirsegarded my question and mumbled something about coming in. He wandered over to the coloring set that's always at the hostel, opened it, and got all sad that the pencil sharpener wasn't there. He doesn't necessarily like to color, but he loves to sharpen pencils, which is why the sharpener had been hidden. The pencils are getting short, and there are always shavings all over the place. So he didn't find much interest in the coloring set, but before he was able to do anything, someone was sent to collect him, because after all, he was home from school because he was sick.
His English is really picking up though. He always says, "This you?" to ask if something is yours, but yesterday he said, "This yours?" Overall, there are a lot of things that he says that he didn't used to say.
His English is really picking up though. He always says, "This you?" to ask if something is yours, but yesterday he said, "This yours?" Overall, there are a lot of things that he says that he didn't used to say.
Freddy Teaches Us Time
A couple of weeks ago our Swahili tutor brought us a list of 200 words we should know. A day later he came back to pick up the list, and I hadn't copied them down. After begging, he finally brought them back, and I wanted to share. Some of them are essential, useful words; some are just funny.
166. anasa - luxury or luxuriousness
167. maamuzi - arbitration
180. adimika - be unobtainable, very scarce
182. janga - calamity
116. saa ngapi? - what time is it? Note: The answer to this depends upon whether the African or European system of reckoning hours is used. There are 24 hours in the African day, but the counting begins with sunrise and sunset. What therefore would be 7 am by European reckoning is one o'clock (saa moja) by the African system. There is always a six hour difference.
166. anasa - luxury or luxuriousness
167. maamuzi - arbitration
180. adimika - be unobtainable, very scarce
182. janga - calamity
116. saa ngapi? - what time is it? Note: The answer to this depends upon whether the African or European system of reckoning hours is used. There are 24 hours in the African day, but the counting begins with sunrise and sunset. What therefore would be 7 am by European reckoning is one o'clock (saa moja) by the African system. There is always a six hour difference.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Small Snake
Several months ago a snake came into the hostel. Sarah shooed it out with a twig that was a bit short for my own comfort level. I'm not afraid of snakes, but when there are so many deadly snakes here, and I don't really know what any of them look like, I'd prefer not to take my chances with any of them.
Today Sarah screamed when she entered the house, and explained that she had almost stepped on a snake. So we all went to look and there was a small black snake, no thicker than a pencil and shorter than a foot, in the front yard. It was acting all big and moving its head agressively. We contemplated what to do. I recalled that after we shooed the snake out last time we never heard the end of it when a neighbor got bit several weeks later; even though the guy didn't die and I'm sure it wasn't the same snake. Anyway, the point is that we had been clearly advised that it's culturally accepted (or expected) that snakes be killed. So we put the same trashcan we used on the scorpian over it, but he crawled through one of the millions of holes. We thought about leaving him, but he crawled toward the house. We agreed that we should just kill him, but the only thing we had were butter knives and my swiss army knife (which we needed to cut our watermelon in the afternoon). Eventually I found a hoe; making it my job to take care of the snake. I scooted him out from the grass where he was hiding and chopped him in half.
It was really sad. I know it's just a little snake. When I scooted him out from the grass he was just calm and harmless looking. He must have cooled off from almost being stepped on. It just didn't seem right to kill something that had done nothing to me. I know I did what was supposed to be done, but it was still sort of evil feeling.
Today Sarah screamed when she entered the house, and explained that she had almost stepped on a snake. So we all went to look and there was a small black snake, no thicker than a pencil and shorter than a foot, in the front yard. It was acting all big and moving its head agressively. We contemplated what to do. I recalled that after we shooed the snake out last time we never heard the end of it when a neighbor got bit several weeks later; even though the guy didn't die and I'm sure it wasn't the same snake. Anyway, the point is that we had been clearly advised that it's culturally accepted (or expected) that snakes be killed. So we put the same trashcan we used on the scorpian over it, but he crawled through one of the millions of holes. We thought about leaving him, but he crawled toward the house. We agreed that we should just kill him, but the only thing we had were butter knives and my swiss army knife (which we needed to cut our watermelon in the afternoon). Eventually I found a hoe; making it my job to take care of the snake. I scooted him out from the grass where he was hiding and chopped him in half.
It was really sad. I know it's just a little snake. When I scooted him out from the grass he was just calm and harmless looking. He must have cooled off from almost being stepped on. It just didn't seem right to kill something that had done nothing to me. I know I did what was supposed to be done, but it was still sort of evil feeling.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Cool Co-ops Contest
Thank you to everyone that voted for me in the Cool Co-ops Contest. I am one of the one hundred winners. They will be announcing and recognizing all of the winners at the UC basketball game on February 20th. THANKS!!!
Saturday, February 2, 2008
And the Hard Work Pays Off
Tonight we stopped by the store to get some sugar for our chai, well that and some cookies. Usually a man runs the shop, and he jumps at the chance to talk to us in English. Tonight though, a woman was there. I'm proud to say, that other than the fact that we are white, we pretty much could have blended in. YAY, for learning some Swahili.
Here's how it went: We asked for sugar and biscuits, and she told us she was out. Then the man next door came over to say he had sugar, and she ordered it from him. She asked me how many kilograms I wanted, and I told her. Then she told me how much it cost, and I dug through my purse and paid her. We walked away extremely content with ourselves.
Now just imagine that being an accomplishment, let alone after four months. But really, if we're not in the lab, we are around people that speak English or Luo, not Swahili. I think the only reason we even did it is because it was Karen and me. I think if I had been with Sarah, she would have spoken in English and pointed and hoped they understood. Also Sara, the other Sara, would have taken care of the whole thing without letting me try. And if I had been by myself, I wouldn't have gotten sugar or cookies. Karen and I made a perfect pair at that moment, and it was satisfying.
As a side note, this afternoon we went up on a small mountain that overlooks the lake, and just did our stuff and enjoyed ourselves. When I got home, I decided to scrub my feet with a used face wipe. I used to think my feet were tan, but then I washed them. Today when I scrubbed, I couldn't get the dirt off, so now I'm really confused as to whether they're dirty or the wrong color of tan. If I scrubbed any harder my skin would have come off. That means that if it's not a tan, the dirt has basically become me. Now that's scuz!!!
Here's how it went: We asked for sugar and biscuits, and she told us she was out. Then the man next door came over to say he had sugar, and she ordered it from him. She asked me how many kilograms I wanted, and I told her. Then she told me how much it cost, and I dug through my purse and paid her. We walked away extremely content with ourselves.
Now just imagine that being an accomplishment, let alone after four months. But really, if we're not in the lab, we are around people that speak English or Luo, not Swahili. I think the only reason we even did it is because it was Karen and me. I think if I had been with Sarah, she would have spoken in English and pointed and hoped they understood. Also Sara, the other Sara, would have taken care of the whole thing without letting me try. And if I had been by myself, I wouldn't have gotten sugar or cookies. Karen and I made a perfect pair at that moment, and it was satisfying.
As a side note, this afternoon we went up on a small mountain that overlooks the lake, and just did our stuff and enjoyed ourselves. When I got home, I decided to scrub my feet with a used face wipe. I used to think my feet were tan, but then I washed them. Today when I scrubbed, I couldn't get the dirt off, so now I'm really confused as to whether they're dirty or the wrong color of tan. If I scrubbed any harder my skin would have come off. That means that if it's not a tan, the dirt has basically become me. Now that's scuz!!!
Freddy's Swahili Lessons
We have Swahili lessons on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and have now had a total of five lessons. The medical student, Karen, that is here for two months felt so disconnected from her patients that she requested a tutor. Sarah and I attend, and the mother and daughter from Indiana that will be here for three months also have started to attend.
At first I was quite skeptical of Freddy, our teacher. He seemed sort of boring and I just wasn't impressed. In the last week he has grown on me a lot, and Swahili lessons have become so much fun. He's probably the funniest person I have met here and it's not on purpose at all. For the first two lessons, we had spent all of the previous night in the lab, so I rolled out of bed when I heard him entering the house. No teeth brushing, and maybe still in pajamas. I'm sure I made a good first impression.
On lesson two or three he started telling us that he could tell that we hadn't practiced while he was gone. He sounded very hurt and disappointed. He asked me a question, and I was so proud to be able to respond. But when I gave my answer he gave me a face of disapproval and another question. Again I answered with what I thought was correct, and he said, "Let's try Karen." Eventually, after much confusion, it was cleared up that he simply wanted me to repeat his question; when I did, he became very content.
On Thursday he left us his notebook in which he had written 200 important vocabulary words. I have not yet had time to copy it down, but when I do, I'll share some of the funniest ones. I had time to notice that he had given us mostly all A words, and then a few Z words. . . did he lose the middle of his dictionary? He also had an explanation of time written down which compared the "African System of Reckoning" with the "Western System of Reckoning," which I will also have to post word for word. I should add that we are working out of a Swahili book that uses words from colonial times, like sultan instead of governor or the equivilant. This morning we had a 20 minute lesson on directions, and at the end he said, "But we don't say this, this or this, that was only said in colonial times," and then he taught us how it's said now.
He always says "Are we together?" and then reads our facial expressions because no one wants to say yes and no one wants to say no. If he thinks we understand, he will begin saying all sorts of things really quickly in Swahili as if we understand everything. Then he again gives the pitiful face when we don't understand.
He's a great teacher. He follows the book for about two minutes, then takes us on a tangent for twenty. In one hour, we complete about two pages of his lesson book. Also, his english is not the best, so asking questions usually causes more confusion than clarification. Sometimes we try to come up with Swahili examples to gauge if our theory or question is right, and when it's not he just looks more disappointed. But the miscommunications are what make it fun and memorable. I think I remember more with him than I would if I had a perfect teacher.
I guess I'm disconnected from reality, so I don't really know if it made you guys laugh or not. Whether it did or not, lessons are the highlight of my day. The other people here and I (or atleast Karen and myself) really enjoy them.
At first I was quite skeptical of Freddy, our teacher. He seemed sort of boring and I just wasn't impressed. In the last week he has grown on me a lot, and Swahili lessons have become so much fun. He's probably the funniest person I have met here and it's not on purpose at all. For the first two lessons, we had spent all of the previous night in the lab, so I rolled out of bed when I heard him entering the house. No teeth brushing, and maybe still in pajamas. I'm sure I made a good first impression.
On lesson two or three he started telling us that he could tell that we hadn't practiced while he was gone. He sounded very hurt and disappointed. He asked me a question, and I was so proud to be able to respond. But when I gave my answer he gave me a face of disapproval and another question. Again I answered with what I thought was correct, and he said, "Let's try Karen." Eventually, after much confusion, it was cleared up that he simply wanted me to repeat his question; when I did, he became very content.
On Thursday he left us his notebook in which he had written 200 important vocabulary words. I have not yet had time to copy it down, but when I do, I'll share some of the funniest ones. I had time to notice that he had given us mostly all A words, and then a few Z words. . . did he lose the middle of his dictionary? He also had an explanation of time written down which compared the "African System of Reckoning" with the "Western System of Reckoning," which I will also have to post word for word. I should add that we are working out of a Swahili book that uses words from colonial times, like sultan instead of governor or the equivilant. This morning we had a 20 minute lesson on directions, and at the end he said, "But we don't say this, this or this, that was only said in colonial times," and then he taught us how it's said now.
He always says "Are we together?" and then reads our facial expressions because no one wants to say yes and no one wants to say no. If he thinks we understand, he will begin saying all sorts of things really quickly in Swahili as if we understand everything. Then he again gives the pitiful face when we don't understand.
He's a great teacher. He follows the book for about two minutes, then takes us on a tangent for twenty. In one hour, we complete about two pages of his lesson book. Also, his english is not the best, so asking questions usually causes more confusion than clarification. Sometimes we try to come up with Swahili examples to gauge if our theory or question is right, and when it's not he just looks more disappointed. But the miscommunications are what make it fun and memorable. I think I remember more with him than I would if I had a perfect teacher.
I guess I'm disconnected from reality, so I don't really know if it made you guys laugh or not. Whether it did or not, lessons are the highlight of my day. The other people here and I (or atleast Karen and myself) really enjoy them.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Smiles Are Free
A couple of days ago I went to fill up a water bottle to use later as shower water. We filter our supply of green water, then put it out in the Sun to solar disinfect it. When I picked up the water bottle that I had made Kool-Aid in the day before, I hesitated, but then realized any left over flavor would be a nice addition. It's the closest I'm going to get to a perfumed bubble bath.
I smile every time I think about it. I find it a little funny, but mostly I smile because I never could have imagined that I would consider such a simple thing so special.
Something shower related and extra special: The other day I used a water bottle from the Sun to take a shower in the afternoon for the first time in the last four months, and it was still warm! I couldn't believe it. The warm water was like a spa or something. I really felt like I wasn't in the middle of nowhere!
I smile every time I think about it. I find it a little funny, but mostly I smile because I never could have imagined that I would consider such a simple thing so special.
Something shower related and extra special: The other day I used a water bottle from the Sun to take a shower in the afternoon for the first time in the last four months, and it was still warm! I couldn't believe it. The warm water was like a spa or something. I really felt like I wasn't in the middle of nowhere!
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