October 13

Mambo! Today I think I've felt the most homesick about America than I ever have. I've been craving waking up in the morning with the endless opportunities knowing I can eat anything my heart desired for breakfast, I can take a hot shower as long as I like, going outside and not getting mud in my flip flops. I guess I could do those things if I lived in a different part of town. The most depressing are the creature comforts of internet and media at hand. Those things are available here, but at a ridiculous cost that I as a student abroad cannot afford. This morning I finally got the gossip magazine websites working on this computer--Lindsay Lohan went back to jail? The Arquettes are divorcing? The Miners are coming out? All whilst I was saving the world and shoveling dirt with the Maasai.

My creature comforts aside, we went back to Maweni today to continue our week of training. Before departure I was working at HQ designing some posters and literature for the HIV/AIDS Prevention leg of the program, without hot breakfast designing posters of penises and vaginas. I argued I was too immature and malnourished for the task, nonetheless found myself drawing for two hours. Making sex ed charts in colorful letters in a language I dont understand, my Mom would be so proud. At about noon we loaded up in the truck and headed out, sans lunch. Big mistake and I shouldve spoken up. When we got there I had already felt sick As we walked to the farmer's shamba (farm) I felt my chest feel heavy and my head hurt. I was supposed to eat something hot before we left, and I was angry I hadn't spoken up at my homestay (seriously just one slice of untoasted bread and margarine, um no). Moreover, I was getting annoyed as we waited for the villagers to gather the materials for the compost pile (week after week, no one every has the materials ready!!!) And the men who were just watching the women gather the sticks and dried leaves and greens, etc. were just sitting and staring at me. I told our counterparts I could not give the lesson since I thought I was going to be sick. Worse, they kept calling me mzungu. I know that here, its not a bad word its just a word like an observation. Like mzungu...hey you're white. And that's it. However, I'm their teacher and if the students had been calling me Stephanie all week why now suddenly am I mzungu. It was such a creepy look, like these men were leering at me, and after that episode this weekend I wanted to get the hell out of there.

When the lesson began, one of the counterparts gave the lesson for me and did an excellent job. The women were great at helping out, and were really proud of the compost pile. The soil from this area was already dark and humus-y, definitely because of the nutrients around Meru. Definitely a far cry from the red quartz filled sand, we worked with in Kimokouwa and Namanga. There were still some irrigation issues here so the soil was kind of cakey and there were some dirt clods. There werent many farm animals here, it seems its not so common.

It was easy to see how work gets divided here, as the women in the group showed up in t shirts and kangas ready to work. Men showed up to the lesson carrying chairs and wearing collared shirts, slacks and good shoes. Plus, when I stood up (clearly sick as I made an announcement at the start of class) they took my chair and didn't offer it back to me!! I almost felt sorry for these women until I realized that as they were working, they were making fun of me. I guess it doesnt matter how many times you say 'Mimi ni mgongwa na tumbo' (Im sick, I have a stomachache) these people thought that if I wasn't giving birth or physically handicapped I should've been in there because I'm a woman. Given my maledictions of dehydration and starvation, it was much easier for my to get annoyed at this. I tried to take photos of the compost pile, only to have the men try to tell me how to take the photos. Oh, I didn't know you knew how to operate an SLR? Dejected, I just put the camera in my backpack and sat in the Landcruiser until it was time for refreshments. When it was all done, there was the usual commencement of thank yous, prayer circles, and goodbyes. My stomach managed to hold up on the bumpy ride back to Arusha. Except I wasn't let off that easy--getting out of the car I was hassled by a taxi driver who tried to 'help' me get out of the Landcruiser. Despite shouting 'Toka!' (Piss off, its really rude, its what Tanzanians say to dogs! And they hate being referred to the same way you would an animal or inanimate object) I cursed and yelled until he moved from the side of the car and allowed me to pass. He wouldn't give up, I couldn't believe it. As I crossed the road, he persisted. 'My name is Elias, what is your name'. Perhaps starvation, perhaps annoyance, perhaps I really needed to get across the road to use the internet, I just retorted "Yea, thanks a lot Elias, go jump off a bridge."
Not my proudest day as volunteer or student or ambassador here in Tanzania, but to avoid this I'm wearing pants tomorrow and securing some chapati in the morning. Either that, or someone's going to get really really hurt.