Da Plane, Da Plane!

We are on Fantasy Island - seaplane and all. Ricardo Montalban hasn't yet appeared to grant us our wish, but I'm pretty sure I heard Tatoo heralding our arrival.

We've finally made it to our final destination...and what a destination it is! Holy Moses this place is incredible! I can't even begin to describe how amazingly magnificent the Maldives are but let's just say that our spa water villa, which sits on stilts with our own staircase into the water, has nightly visits from huge rays, sharks, large fish and giant fruit bats. We were upgraded into the water villa at the very end of the island which means we can't even see the other villas from our balcony; all we see is the open ocean which is only around five feet deep around us, perfect temperature and clearer than any swimming pool I have ever been in.

We'll fill you in on more details later but we just wanted to let you know we made it to paradise safely and are now going to enjoy it, so we're probably not going to post again until we leave Paradise.

Now signing off to snorkel, dine at the world's only glass, underwater restaurant, go deep-sea fishing on our own private charter, and explore a deserted island - just a few of the activities planned this week.

Smoking the Sheesha

It was clear from the outset that we'd make few friends on our cruise. (Actually, the word cruise seems a misnomer - I think our boat may have actually sailed 4 hours a day. The rest of the time we were moored in the midst of about a million other stationary boats obscuring our view of anything but the cabin on the ship next door.)

On the plane ride to Abu Simbel, our starting point on the Sunboat IV, I could identify only one couple - Mike and Loretta - with whom we might possibly relate. It would become painfully apparent later (as Sanjay, I admit, predicted from the beginning) that these two freaks would only serve to make our cruise more entertaining, perhaps, but certainly not more enjoyable. (Near the end of the cruise, Loretta lost her camera and blamed everyone on board except herself. She cried and skipped our tour of THE VALLEY OF THE KINGS!!!! while she pouted, bitched and, in all likelihood, drove her poor husband Mike and the entire crew to the brink of insanity. Loretta and Mike work as contractors in Iraq, so Mike has enough stress without having his own personal drama queen demand to file a police report in Egypt due to what was most likely her own misplacing of an utterly replacable Casio digital camera.)

Anywho . . . . On the day of our departure, we caught a flight from Cairo to Abu Simbel at 2:30am - yes, you read that right. We hadn't slept, but managed to catch about an hour on the plane. Upon our arrival, we were immediately rushed to visit the Abu Simbel temples of Ramses II and his queen, Nefertari. They were enormous and sat on the banks of the Nile (they were actually moved back a little bit from their former position by a team of engineers to avoid damage - I'm not certain, given their magnitude, how that's even physically possible). While they were incredibly beautiful, the crowds made the experience somewhat painful, especially in our sleep-deprived state. Actually, at every monument we visited, we experienced insane hoards of people which seems right, I suppose, now that our guide has informed us that 65% of Egypt's economy is based on tourism.

That afternoon, after we were swept to our boat for a quick white-girl-boring-ass-catered-food lunch (rich old white people seem to demand only plain fare that doesn't challenge their taste buds or their digestive systems), we (still with zero rest) boarded a traditional Egyptian sailboat called a felucca and took a brief sail on the Nile with about 10 of our co-tourists from the boat. It was actually quite beautiful but sleep deprivation, by this time, was really taking its toll. Our sailor was really a pro and, as he gracefully guided us narrowly through the passage between our own Scylla and Charybdis on the Nile, my brain randomly shuffled through and found the most appropriate song to be stuck in my head for the next several days - today's:
Song of the Day: Wrapped around your Finger by The Police

For those of you whose brains do not store such useless trivia as all of the lyrics to every Police song, this song includes both the Scylla and Charybdis reference, as well as a reference to alabaster, which was appropriate given the fact that Luxor, Egypt produces some of the finest alabaster in the world. Sanjay actually ended up purchasing the most gorgeous green alabaster vase as a souvenir and birthday gift to himself on Friday.

Of course, with cheesy simplicity, the other song stuck in my head all week was our other

Song of the Day: Walk Like an Egyptian by the Bangles

On the felucca ride, we met the three freak-o-teers with whom we'd be spending all of our meals after Loretta and Mike opted out of eating at our shared table to wallow in their own self-pity and misery at a two-top. We had the pleasure of sharing three meals a day - and every excursion - with Karen, a pastor with her Masters in Divinity from Princeton, John, who's retired from automobile manufacturing and their daughter Kristen, who Sanjay originally predicted was afflicted with Down's syndrome. We later tamed our diagnosis to some simple, severe form of social dysfunction. Actually, the trio was nice enough, just not quite who we might normally choose to have over for supper, let alone spend 12 hours a day with.

We also had the pleasure of meeting Hassan, our Egyptologist and guide for the duration of the cruise. Thank Allah for him. (Actually, one of the most endearing attributes of Hassan and every Egyptian was their constant use of the phrase enshallah, which means "God willing". We'll meet at 8:00, enshallah. We'll go out for sheesha, enshallah. We'll eat at Felfella, enshallah. Someday I'll visit America, enshallah. And it's not really just a throwaway phrase - they mean it. In their faith, everything is dependent on destiny or God's will. It's really interesting.) Anyway, Hassan is a chubby little man who says he has knees like a goat and therefore never shows his legs - even though it gets up to 130F! Hassan single-handedly saved the cruise for us by taking us to see the most incredible sites and monuments ever and, more importantly, aiding our nightly escape from the ship and its inhabitants to take us out to local coffee shops each night where we drank hibiscus tea, smoked the sheesha (hooka), and had fascinating conversations about local politics. More about those later.

Admittedly, that first night, we were too tired for sheesha or intelligent conversation, although we did manage to stay up for the performances of a whirling dervish and the worst man-girl belly-dancer ever. Actually, Sanjay and I, and all of the passengers who managed to keep their weary eyes open, actually did more belly dancing than she did, as she kept inviting each of us up to make complete asses of ourselves. That said, the dervish was fantastic and Sanjay's eyes throughout his entire performance were the size of saucers.

The next day was Valentine's Day - and today we visited Aswan. First, we stopped at a quarry to visit the unfinished obelisk. While it was enormous, it was laying on the ground, uncarved, so given all of the other sites we visited, this one was fairly unimpressive. I suppose the most fun thing about this site was the fact that Loretta and Mike spent 400 Egyptian pounds (the equivalent of about $70 USD) for 4 t-shirts that they should have probably gotten for about 80-100 pounds. I thought our guide was going to have a stroke. Negotiation is a critical art when purchasing anything as a tourist in Egypt. Generally, the initial asking price is at least double the normal purchase price and, if you look especially rich or infuriating, they'll charge you ten times the going rate. (I'll let you decide which category Ms. Loretta fell into.)

After we finished at the pile of rocks, we boarded a notably unseaworthy motorboat-like vessel and headed to the Temple of Philae. This site was an incredibly beautiful island with and Egyptian temple as well as a Roman one built by Trajan. On our boat ride over, I bought two bracelets made from sandalwood which smell so good. With our trusty guide Hassan as our lead negotiator, they each cost less than $1. He rocks.

After visiting these incredibly beautiful temples, we took a quick bus ride to the Aswan High Dam. While it's definitely impressive that this contraption has harnessed the energy of the mighty Nile (likely, though I've not researched it, much to the degradation of the local environment and wildlife), it's a dam. Not quite as cool as the Hoover Dam - and not nearly as cool as all of the temples and monuments we'd see on the Nile, so thankfully, it was time to move on. After our morning tour, we ate lunch and sailed to the location we'd vist that afternoon - Kom Ombo, the site of a unique Greco-Roman temple dedicated to two gods: Sobek, the crocodile god, and Haroeris, the sun god. The two are like yin and yang - sobek is evil and Haroeris is good. The temple was immense and beautiful. That evening after dinner, Sanjay did the sweetest thing ever. Knowing that every girl has a love-hate relationship with Valentine's Day, he sought to make mine special (especially since the divorce and all) and placed a small red velvet pouch on my dessert plate innocuously. In it was a necklace with a small, white gold and diamond ankh pendant with a silver necklace. I'd seen it in the window of a store in Cairo, and somehow it mysteriously appeared on our cruise. I'm not positive - maybe he's really just the nicest, most charming man in the world but, I think he likes me ;)

That night would unfold to be the best of our cruise, as we begged Hassan for some way to escape our boat and he escorted us to a local coffeeshop (where neither a single tourist, nor woman could be found) where we smoked sheesha & had an incredibly interesting conversation about Egyptian politics.

In particular, we learned that Hassan and many Egyptians in the last election had voted for a candidate from the Future party - I believe he was a professor who actually campaigned village to village and talked directly to the people. He was a normal guy who earned alot of respect during the election, and likely a number of votes. He's now in prison, along with Mubarak's other leading competitor. While I don't fully recall the charges, it was clear that they were trumped up. It seems that the Future party candidate is now ill and is likely to die in prison. Hassan said that with all of America's election problems, we had nothing on Egypt where no one is certain that Mubarak was actually elected by the people. I asked about protests by the people - explaining that these are how America has undergone its most significant transformations in the past - and he explained that Egyptians do have the right of free speech - for instance, a group called Kifaya or "Enough!", protests the government consistently - the voices of such organizations are loud but rarely inspire the government to make any change. Hassan predicted that Mubarak's death would lead to dramatic civil unrest in Egypt, as his son is being groomed to lead, the people don't want that, and it's not clear that any election would be run fairly.

He also mentioned that because the government is so little respected and does so little for the people, that religion and religious leaders hold the real power with the people of Egypt. Even though the laws in Egypt prohibit a religious party from forming, many people would prefer that.

Obviously we also talked about the war - who'd pass up that opportunity? He mentioned that the Islamic world watches a channel broadcast from the perspective of the Iraqi people, that shows the damage being done there and interviews the locals to find out how many have been killed. He says it's actually incredibly sad - and that he and his friends watch CNN, the BBC, Al-Jazeera and this channel - apparently a subnetwork of Al-Jazeera - to form the real truth of the matter for themselves. (As an aside, we actually watched Al-Jazeera and the coverage was definitely interesting, erudite and not any more one-sided than CNN or, certainly, Fox.) Hassan also mentioned that the Islamic world is furious about the fact that Saddam was executed on a religious feast day, and believes that America did this purposefully to "rub it in". (I know, I know, we thought the Iraqi government was in charge of this, but Hassan was firm that no Islamic government would execute anyone, certainly not by hanging - he believes it should have been a firing squad, on a religious holy day.)

Our final topic for the evening was Egypt's lack of involvement in resolving conflict or giving aid to Sudan. Comparatively, I'd bet that Egypt is one of the two richest countries in Africa (again, I don't have the stats, but suffice it to say that, compared to Sudan, their bajillionaires). He said he doesn't understand why Egypt is not intervening diplomatically or militarily because they're neighbors and brothers and have the resources, nor to assist refugees and the people affected by the conflict.I know, I know, too much detail - but it's so interesting. Anyway, I'm now writing hurriedly from the Maldives, so the rest of this post will be detail-free.

On Thursday, we visited temples at Edfu (The Temple of Horus) and Esna, both huge and beautiful although I think it was Esna that had the most aggressive salesmen ever at the local shops. The temple there is actually just sitting in the middle of a little village, where the locals hope no other discoveries are made for fear of losing their homes. Apparently, the Egyptian government seizes property all the time for such things, without appropriately compensating those affected.

We had lunch with one of the most arrogant, aggravating couples of all time - Robbie, a former Hollywood entertainment CEO turned sacred essence portrait artist (whatever that means), her husband what's-his-face, a paper baron, and their daughter, Allie, a nice girl whom they sent off to boarding school in England, likely so they could make googly eyes at one another and make out all the time, which they did at the lunch table. Mmm . . . . delicious.

That night, we ate Egyptian food and dressed in traditional Egyptian galabeyyas - Sanjay said mine was the prettiest of all. I think he was right.

Later, we again shared sheesha and hibiscus tea with Hassan at a locals-only coffeehouse, where we watched women pull bread in baskets from the deliveryboy by pulley to their second-floor apartments and listened to Hassan explain his love and respect for all of the various cultures with whom he interacts on the cruise. He is emphatic that politicians and the media breed fear and hate for power and ratings - and that once he actually meets and talks with people from anywhere - that there is understanding and mutual respect. He mentioned that one of his clients had shared with him a book The History of the World that apparently describes people from many cultures objectively - literature which is apparently not taught quite so fairly in local schools. You could tell he was incredibly grateful and he's passed the book to his son - whom he wants to teach to love and respect all the different people of the world - as all of us are creatures of Allah, God, the One - whatever the language, it's all the same.

Friday, for Sanjay's birthday, we visited the finest sites we've seen in all of Egypt at Luxor. While Sanjay was disappointed to not be staying with his friends in the Luxor at Las Vegas, I think he got over it as we visited:

• The Valley of the Kings - where we entered three tombs, including Ramses IV, which had the most incredibly beautifully preserved hieroglyphics and artwork (Of course, Loretta was throwing a fit and missed it!)
  
• The Valley of the Queens - where we entered the tomb of a prince
• Temple of Hatshepsut - the temple of Egypt's only female pharaoh, who is dressed as a man in all her artwork and usurped power from her own son ( I think his name was Tutmosis III), who would later destroy most everything that bore her name and likeness. Luckily, he didn't destroy her temple, because it is carved into the side of a cliff and is architecturally the most beautiful site we saw in Egypt.


• Temple of Luxor - This was interesting for its avenue of what seemed like hundreds of sphinxes and the Christian artwork that appears in the temple since it was later used for Christian worship by the Romans.


• Temple of Karnak - my favorite site in Egypt, because of it's sheer size. It's incredible - there's a hypostyle hall there that has 134 columns that were each probably at least 10 feet in diameter), as well as a sacred pool where worshippers used to bathe before religious ceremonies. There's also a lucky scarab (beetle) that's said to bring you good luck if you walk around it three times. We did.


• Luxor Museum - This museum held the most beautiful and well preserved sculpture we saw in all of Egypt - a statue of Tutmosis III made in a gray stone. The man was beautiful with soft eyes and incredible muscles. He really seemed to smile at you. Of course, none of the pieces in Egypt were ever signed, so who know who this incredible artist was. The museum also held the Luxor cachet - a group of statues that were buried under the temple to save the idols from destruction by the Christians. At least, I think that's what they said.

We also stopped to smoke sheesha (which Hassan called ahead to arrange, given our love of the sheesha) and buy Sanjay's birthday gift, a very rare green alabaster vase that is carved out of a single stone. That night after dinner, Sanjay discovered that the crew had baked him a birthday cake and hidden it in our room.

The next day, we arrived back in Cairo and toured both Coptic and Islamic temples in Cairo, as well as one synagogue (there are only about 40 Jews left in Cairo, so no services are held at any of the 8 remaining temples, which are now only tourist sites). My favorite the Hanging Church, which dates to the seventh century, which is Coptic - an orthodox Christian religion that most Egyptians were before Islam. Even the word Egypt (gypt is like copt) is derived from their formerly Coptic faith. While I was there, I left a donation and lit a candle for my family - and Sanjay, like any good Hindu, lit one for his as well. (Check out the photo - it was cold in Egypt!)

We also visited two fabulous mosques. The one in this photo is the alabaster mosque of Mohammed Ali at the Citadel in Cairo. While we were there, in my ignorance, I asked the meaning of the feast of Ramadan. I learned that it's a month meant to remind people of where they came from, to teach them humility and remind them of their poverty. That's why they eat so little (i.e., fast until sundown) during this time. (Actually, because everyone's so hungry from fasting all day, Egyptians actually consume 4 times more during the month of Ramadan than in any other month of the year - a lesson to all you dieters out there!) Additionally, if one can't fast for health or work reasons, the alternative is to prepare a meal just like the one you'll be eating (i.e., of very good quality) and serve it to a poor person at a charity table set up on the street. During Ramadan, you'll apparently find many people eating at these tables.

On our drive away from the mosque, our guide Abeer talked to us a little about how fundamentalism is really beginning to be on the rise in Egypt, and how Islamic fundamentalists are luring teenagers and college-age students away from their parents who have become more liberal and, in her words, modern (Abeer, for example, doesn't wear a scarf on her head) - they seem to recruit the young like a cult, and many are taken away to training centers and militant schools in other parts of the Arab world like Afghanistan and Iran. She said that she, like many modern Egyptians, fears the rise in the population and influence of these groups among the youth as they seem to be turning Egypt backward, and are turning the young against their parents, whose modernism they consider to be sinful and against God.

What struck me most about all of the churches we visited was how similar all of the symbolism, artwork and architecture was at all of them - and even at the ancient Egyptian temples. Halos on Christian saints were formerly suns above the head of the ancient Egyptian god Ra. The virgin mother holding the baby Jesus looks just like the ancient goddess Isis suckling her baby (Horus?). Many pictures of Jesus show him holding a scroll - just like every statue we saw of the pharoahs, and like the Torah scrolls in the holy of holies at the synagogue. No icons were visible in either the synagogue nor the mosques, but the symbol of the star was everywhere in Christian, Islamic and Jewish churches.

That afternoon, we shopped at my favorite place in all of Cairo - the Khan el-Kalili bazaar, and ate takeout tameyya and smoked sheesha at El Fashawi coffeehouse there. That night, we ate at a yummy Egyptian restaurant - though not as good as Felfella in terms of food and service - where the atmosphere was divine. Since we woke up at 4am to catch our flight, and didn't even stop at our hotel before our day-long tour of the churches, we went to bed directly afterward and missed the belly-dancing show we'd reserved.

The next day, we slept in, ate an amazing breakfast of honeycomb and fruit at the Four Seasons, and spent the day again at the bazaar eating local food and buying souvenirs. It was my favorite spot in Cairo - so incredibly full of life - no streets are that vibrant in the States. On our way to catch our car to the airport, we made our cab driver stop once more at Felfella to get one last taste of Egypt - we devoured 5 takeout taameya (Egyptian falafel) sandwiches in the taxi at a cost of 6.25 pounds (or about $1.25) for all of them.

Then our guide Ahmed and driver - whose Egyptian name literally means Mr. Satisfaction - drove us to the airport. It was sad to say goodbye, because they took such good care of us, but we knew we were on to even better things . .

The Queen of the Nile Returns

Just a quick check-in to let you know we're both alive and well. We want to savor our last day here in Cairo, so we'll be blogging during transit to the Maldives, as we should have plenty of time in an airport to catch up.

For now, suffice it to say that I have smoked more sheesha than is probably legal (especially for a girl in Cairo!) - and being trapped on a boat with a bunch of rich white people who cannot dance but choose to anyhow could well be a form of torture. That said, it was made more than bearable by our Egyptian guide, Hassan, and all of the amazing things we've seen -

We'll catch you up soon on our adventures, I promise . . . .

Moo Milkshakes and Camel Toes

Camels have huge feet. You see, we would know because today we rode on camels through the Egyptian desert near the pyramids and sphinx at Giza . So there. My camel was named Mickey Mouse and Sanjay rode on Michael Jackson. Our cute little guide was Kushi . . . he was 13 and no longer in school. Michael Jackson was evil and tried to bite Mickey.

Fortunately, Michael was neither as evil nor as lucky as the little Egyptian man who copped a feel when he forcibly grabbed me to take a photo with him and his camel while we were visiting the earlier pyramids at Memphis and Saqqara . I was manhandled but learned an important lesson about totally ignoring the harassment of strangers. My friend Diane would be proud.

The pyramids were incredible, immense and incredibly intact with beautifully, minutely detailed carvings on the interiors that you simply cannot imagine. I am not certain how they could have built such things. Their magnitude is unbelievable, as is their proximity to the city. These structures stand mere feet from the local KFC and Pizza Hut, somewhat disappointingly. Visitors have also taken the liberty to adorn these treasures with litter and graffiti.

As impressive as the pyramids have been so far, the food at the restaurant where we ate today was perhaps even more so. It was called FelFella, and they had the best baba ghanoush, Egyptian falafel (made with fava beans instead of chick peas), tahini and pita bread I have ever tasted. Sanjay also had this totally yummy juice from the hibiscus flower. I would tell you everywhere else we stopped, but it would give away some of your gifts, so I will refrain and keep that for a surprise. We did hit a local mall last night to get Sanjay some clothes, which was an interesting experience. Everyone thinks he is Egyptian and speaks to him in Arabic, which is both confusing and helpful when negotiating taxi fares and other prices.

The Four Seasons Hotel at Nile Plaza is insane. Our room is on the 24th floor overlooking a view of the entire city. I truly feel like royalty. Everyone (waiters, doormen, valets, etc.) knows our name, a dog sniffs our car for bombs every time we drive up, they cut the crusts off of all our breads and serve us peeled pomegranates for breakfast with fresh honeycomb. The flower arrangements in the lobby are the most beautiful I have ever seen. Coming from the CCS house to here has been extreme culture shock to say the least. More confusing, however, has been our transformation from village guests to pure tourists. I must say I miss being so close to the locals. Our Egyptologist, Ameer, is awesome and we had lunch with her today, but it is quite difficult to interact with other Egyptians given our tourist status and, in many cases, the language barrier.

Our amazing time thus far in Egypt did come at a steep price, as we had to say goodbye to all of our volunteer friends, especially my two favorite roommates and moos, Diane and Connie. They sent us off with a nice dinner party and an evening at the casino and, most importantly, as we pulled off in our car from the compound, they waved, cried, blew kisses and even shook their cute moo hineys in our direction. Connie even offered to lift her shirt for Sanjay again. (Did I fail to mention that he has previously seen the moo without her top on . . . I suppose that is a longer story, so I will let him explain later for himself =)

Anywho . . . Sorry this is so short, but our flight to Abu Simbel to catch our cruise boat departs at 2am, so I need to get packed. We will be offline while we float down the Nile , but we will check in when we return on Saturday. Hope all is well!

Naivete & Frozen Manties

I found out yesterday that one of the best students at Shepherds Junior, Leah, may be taken out of the school by her mother. Another volunteer, Andrea, who's there now, spoke with both Leah and her teacher Nancy. Nancy said that Leah's mother sometimes is unable to have any food in the house (not like in America, I mean zero), and that she must move Leah to a free school so that she can feed her children.

I believe I said in my last post something naive along the lines of "thank god they're all well taken care of, or I wouldn't be able to leave". I may have been deluding myself. I think I just can't comprehend the day-to-day struggles these people face. Leah looks happy, and is incredibly smart and mature. Of all the children, I probably thought she was the best taken care of.

Don't worry, I've obviously already offered to help figure out how to keep her at Shepherds, but you just never know.

I continued to receive gifts this week from the school. Teacher Angel (a teaching assistant who probably makes less than $1 per day) sent me home some material that's tied around one's waist as a traditional conga (skirt). I just don't even know how to show gratitude that matches their generosity.

Other than that, this week we painted the nurse's station at Nkoranga Hospital with our best buddy here, Diane. (Mom, you would love this woman. Her dog's her best friend, she's a Harley-driving nurse. We love her.) The conditions at the hospital are, as you might imagine, deplorable. They actually use glass IVs, the kind you see in like Civil War movies. We walked past the TB isolation ward, and the patient was sitting outside on the lawn rather than in his room. We also stopped by the torture chamber, I mean, maternity ward, where a red bucket labeled "Placenta" sat at the foot of the bed with god-knows-what muck inside. We walked past a baby lying in a bed with her eyes fixed and dilated facing the ceiling. God knows what's even wrong with most of them. Diagnostic tools are limited, and treatments even moreso. They don't feed the patients there - they're families bring them food, or they don't eat.

We've spent most of this week actually, to my great pleasure, with tons of free time just wandering the streets of Arusha and exploring. We've not had nearly enough time to roam freely to date, so this has been fascinating. We took Sanjay's photo in front of Happy Sausage, Ltd, and near the House of Lubricants, and got a few cool gifts. Actually, we thought about getting one more item we saw - the Saddam Hussein wall calendar that was being sold on the street and read "Execution has turned Saddam into a Martyr!" Sanjay insisted it was a bad idea, though. I said I'd carry it in my luggage . . .

Last night, since I've had absolutely enough of Chef Japhet's eggplant, boiled potato, bean, carrot and tomato surprise, we actually found Kraft singles at Shop-Rite (the local western supermarket where plums and grapes cost over $10 USD per pound) and white bread and made the BEST grilled cheese sandwich I've ever had. Honestly, I didn't know food could taste so good. We gave one to the watchman, Thompson, too, as well as Saidi's son (Saidi's the owner of the bar across the street from our compound) - I think they were duly impressed with my white-girl cooking skills.

After I went to sleep, Sanjay sought retribution against his 50-something Australian roomate, Pat. Pat had the audacity to move Sanjay's dainties and toiletries from the top shelf to the bottom in the bathroom in order, I think, to mark his alpha-male territory and, since he's a crotchety old man (not really), to avoid bending over every day.

In retaliation, Sanjay froze his socks and manties in a loaf pan, and presented them to him with an announcement to all of the volunteers over breakfast this morning. I think Pat was actually delighted for the attention.

We're super psyched to be leaving tomorrow for Cairo, and we'll be going out tonight with all of the volunteers to Pepe's for pizza, then to gamble and dance the night away. Hopefully, we'll be home in time for curfew . . . we'll catch up with you in Egypt!!!

Lucy

I've just posted some photos and read briefly through our last several posts, and I feel like I left something critical out - my headmistress, Lucy.

Just last night over dinner, Sanjay asked me what I thought I might be like if I had been born here. I hope I would be like her. I fear, however, that I don't possess her ability to succeed slowly and in small steps. She is able to relish (and appropriately so) the small miracles that she witnesses and inspires every day. While she focuses and builds upon those, I believe I might instead focus on everything that hadn't yet happened, thus obscuring the magnitude of what had been achieved. I hope to learn from her and grow - passionate progress before perfection.

Because our experience was so short, I went from frenzied newbie with zero context to not-terribly-seasoned retiree so quickly that I forgot to mention just how incredible this woman is. She founded Shepherds Junior in 2004, after her last child was fully grown, and has since used the money from her own small poultry business and boutique to supplement the tuition paid (i.e., 70,000 shillings for a three-month term, or about $18 per month) by the students who attend her small school. The school began with 10 students in one class, and has since grown to over 110 students at six grade levels.

She is an incredibly savvy business woman who runs her school with grace, charisma and humility. She's proud, but never arrogant. She's also the single most grateful person I've ever met. She's never missed an opportunity to recognize one of my accomplishments, give me a gift or thank me profusely for any small contribution I've made.

I cannot personally believe all that she has built - single-handedly - simply to make the lives of these children better. Her vision is to grow the school to serve all grade levels through Class 7 and start and orphanage not far away to provide even more services to the local children. She is totally generous has utter faith that whatever resources she needs will be delivered, and never expresses a single doubt about the school's future. I'm actually certain, too, that while 95% of local organizations likely fail, her attitude and skill alone will ensure Shepherds Junior's continued expansion and success.

She is incredible. I just couldn't miss telling you. (Actually, it's interesting that her name, Lucy, is derived from the Latin word that means to light up or shine, which she does.)

She's also invited each of you to stay in her guest room and share whatever food she has. (We've shared bread and chai at her table many times, and trust me when I say that she's also fabulous company and a great conversationalist.)

I do hope you'll come - they could use every spare hand you have to offer.

Not much else to tell today. We're in town shopping for paint for the hospital and another school - painting Shepherds has inspired a few more volunteers to do the same, which is awesome.

We did upload some photos, so be sure to take a look at some of our previous posts . . .

No Kiliminjaro

For those of you wondering about our Kiliminjaro climb, we're sorry to disappoint you.

Our health and the weather combined were a recipe for potential disaster, so we've decided to keep our lives intact, and be total wieners. (I hope at least my mom is pleased with this call, as I think it really was the most sensible choice.) The nurse in my room says we both likely have bronchitis, and the rains have been awful, which leads me to believe that the snows on Kiliminjaro would have been unbearable. Besides, just last month a rock slide on Kili killed 3 climbers and an unknown number of guides, and seriously injured 5 others. Were you really ready to say goodbye?

Don't worry, we'll be back, but we'll schedule the climb at the beginning of our trip, when we might actually be healthy enough to accomplish the journey.

That said, we'll both be staying another week here in Tanzania with CCS. I likely won't return to my placement (I'll explain why soon), but instead will be touring other organizations and helping out as I can. Hmmm . . . where to begin catching you up . . .

Well, I started my week in the most amazing way I can imagine. As you read, some friends and I painted the new building at my school last weekend. Monday morning began when I arrived at Shepherd's Junior and the children - 110 of them - rushed around me singing, beautifully and with so much gratitude for a truly small accomplishment that I was literally in tears, a song of thanks:

Teacher Stacey, Teacher Stacey, Teacher Stacey what a wonder you are
We love you so, so, so Teacher Stacey
Teacher Stacey what a wonder you are.

They continued to sing to me through morning assembly, where Teacher Nancy and the headmistress made announcements of gratitude, and I continued to cry. I was literally overwhelmed by their gratitude. The school really does look beautiful, though.

Monday night, we visited to a Black Panther who's now living in exile here in Tanzania, as he was convicted on some trumped up weapons charge and, if he returned to American soil, he would be immediately sent to prison. He was fascinating. He's been in Tanzania now for over 30 years, and has seen many of his family members from his home in Kansas City (even his own children) very little or, in some cases, not at all. Since he arrived, he's been focused on building his organization (I believe it's called the United African Community Center, or UACC). The center is an amazing place that teaches English, music, art, computers - essentially whatever courses they have volunteers to teach. The center also brings over young African Americans from the inner city to experience life here and, hopefully, learn a little something. It's run entirely by volunteers, with funds by donors, and its services are offered for free. In addition to the courses, the center has dug a well that provides clean water to many in the local community, and has implemented solar cells that provide electricity to 85 local homes and the center itself. Pete's super into new technologies - so Sanjay impressed him with his Blackberry. That's him over there!

It was actually remarkable to visit the place - they served Mexican food which was really unexpected and delicious and the solar power made the lights there so bright, it's incredible. I felt like I was seeing some of the people I was with for the first time. The power problems here make electricity definitely inconstant and, even when it's on, it's incredibly dim.

With regard to the water, you'd be amazed to see where people fetch their water. On multiple occasions, I've seen children fetch and/or drink water directly from what look to be sewer or storm drains. The water is completely opaque and brown. It's really incredible. I've never seen a child drink water at my school. I've seen those who can afford it have a soda or juice in the afternoon, but never water - the water from the tap cannot even be used to brush one's teeth, even by the locals. At the center's store, I bought Ashlee and Chooch super-cool prizes from the Center's shop, where all the goods are made by their students. I would describe them, but what fun would that be???

On Wednesday, I brought Shepherds' Junior Class 2 and Class 3 to my school to perform for the other volunteers who aren't lucky enough to get to work with them every day. They saw our water jug, and many of the children asked cautiously if they might have a glass of water. I've never seen anyone drink as fast as they did. It's clear that they don't have enough to drink.

During the performance, the children sang a few really moving songs about the AIDS epidemic here, followed by a quite formal debate as to whether girls are better than boys. They did a little play about government corruption, and Leah read a funny little mathematics prayer. They ended with a rousing and well-received rendition of my personal favorite song, "Be Happy Before You Die!" We offered everyone a glass of clean water when they were through, but I wish I'd had more.

The next day during recess, I had brought a few sheets of small star stickers and I began to place them on each child's head. The children were incredibly excited about their small gift. Even the older boys who rough house and roughly play the "real" football (i.e., soccer) during recess, ran to me wanting stars to adorn their foreheads. Their appreciation for small things is truly incredible. I can't imagine that boys of the same age on American playgrounds would even tolerate having a sticker on their face, let alone smile broadly, giggle, and ask for more before returning to their games.

That evening, we ate again at my favorite restaurant in Tanzania, Big Bite, where we feasted on Indian food with about 20 volunteers and Zungu, the artist who's continuing to paint a mural scene from "Goodnight Moon" on the front of the newly-painted school. Since Sanjay is the owner's new favorite customer, his wife had prepared a special dessert of really yummy gulab jamun for all of us. Yummy!!!

Friday, on my last day at my placement, I was greeted first by Teacher Nancy who rushed me to her classroom to present me with a gift. This incredible woman, who makes between 70,000 and 80,000 shillings per MONTH, or the equivalent of $55-$60 USD, to teach third graders with remarkable skill and grace, gave me a purse made of dried banana leaves and a card. She cried, as did I. My day would end on a similar note. After I spent my morning singing and teaching the baby class, I spent my break on the playground making and racing paper airplanes with the children. At the end of the break, Leah, an incredibly smart and beautiful girl from Class 3 (the one who earned the "Math Superstar" award I'd made from construction paper, came up to me and said, as she began to well up with tears, "I will never forget you." She couldn't have said anything more heart-wrenching if she'd tried. My tears continued.

After break, instead of returning to class, the children began to bring chairs and carpets out of their classrooms to prepare for a surprise bon voyage celebration and concert for me. After Class 3 sang to me two songs wishing me farewell, while the girls sobbed and the boys struggled to hold back their tears, I was presented with a traditional African dress that was quickly pulled over my head by Lucy, the school's headmistress, as well as a wall-hanging that says "To: Stacey's Family From: Shepherds Junior Academy" on the back. The students and teachers each presented me with separate, very sad, farewell cards. I sobbed throughout the entirety of their program, as did the children and teachers. Though I wished in vain that I'd brought more substantial gifts, I passed out chocolates to everyone.

Unfortunately, my van arrived during the program, and the 19-year-old rich Greek boy, Antonis, was late to catch his flight to Zanzibar, so I had to leave quickly. The children followed me to the gates, and grabbed at me not to go. Literally, these children were sobbing, boys and girls alike. I picked up Leah and hugged her, promising to email her soon. I was perhaps most moved by a little boy, from Grade 1, Caleb, whose normal handsome, mischievous grin was replaced by tears streaming from his face.

It was truly an incredible experience, one that supercedes my vocabulary. It wasn't until after we'd said farewell that Sanjay made the final decision that we wouldn't be climbing Kiliminjaro. So we'll be here for another week, but I don't think I can go back and put my babies, or myself, through another torturesome goodbye. It's a very good thing that I know that they'll all be well taken care of, because I'd otherwise be unable to leave.

That afternoon, I had the pleasure of witnessing again the generosity of the poor. Thompson, the night watchman at the CCS compound, invited us to visit his home. Once we arrived, his incredibly gracious wife, Janet, offered us sodas that she'd fetched for us. He showed us around his home, and then showed us a miracle. Thompson, from his own meager salary, has constructed a schoolhouse about the size of an American bedroom in his own front yard. When he first started to work at CCS, he was frustrated with his English and immediately hired a tutor from Kenya to teach his children English so they wouldn't suffer the same fate. Once his neighbors heard that he had a tutor at his home, they said he was selfish unless he invited all of the neighbor children to learn with them as well. He did. That was a few years ago and now, with all his own money, he has constructed a schoolhouse where a VOLUNTEER tutor teaches over 40 local children every day. The people here are unreal.

Yesterday, we awoke early to begin plans to cancel our climb and visit Tengeru market near our home base. Even though we've been warned on multiple occasions not to take photos (for fear that either our camera would be stolen or locals would violently demand a fee for their photos), we were determined to steal a few, because nothing other than a photo could describe for you what this place is like. We even managed to snap this shot of a bloodied butcher sitting on the chopping block with chunks of flesh at his feet. Essentially, our technique was that I'd pose as if Sanjay were taking a picture of me only, and he'd quickly snap something over my shoulder. I hope they turn out.

We then decided to move for the weekend to a hotel in town where we could take a real shower and, hopefully, begin to recover from out plague. (Actually, I'm pretty certain we're only here because Sanjay is REALLY excited to watch the Superbowl. Little did he know, though, that our hotel's TV's won't be showing the game. He's just gone upstairs to check us out, and is already researching alternatives that provide ESPN. Good luck. I wonder if that's actually why he agreed to cancel our climb?)

On our taxi ride over to the Kibo Palace, there were literally a million butterflies clouding the air. They looked like snow, their infestation apparently a direct consequence of the recent heavy rains.

Upon our arrival, after absorping a couple of American movies on the television (which we haven't seen in over a month now!), we ate a so-so dinner (Sanjay had some super-yummy enormous prawns while I had some alright peas and paneer in a sub-par sauce) at the hotel restaurant and watched some wedding festivities that was unfolding around the hotel pool. We did have a small, unsatisfying banana split for dessert, and then headed to a casino that's the size of an American bedroom with a blackjack table, a roulette table, a poker table and a few slot machines. It was actually pretty fun for an hour or so as we tipped the dealers heavily, and they were super appreciative. They kept saying "thanks from the girls!" After we handed over all our money, we returned for a fairly long, restful sleep and room service for breakfast.

We're sitting in our hotel lobby now. I've only coughed up a little green stuff this morning. I'm feeling a little better, but not nearly 100%. Although we're missing Kiliminjaro, I'm hoping this week will still be exciting - it kind of sucks to still be sick, though . . . I REALLY wish we could have gone :(

PS: Check out the American Lion in Masai Hell entry again - we're adding photos as we speak, and, if I do say so, they're fantastic!

HomeSICK

It's finally catching up with me. I think I'm dying - not really, don't panic. Besides, just yesterday one of the CCS volunteers in the Moshi program fell off the top bunk and was safely med-evac-ed home, so I'm certain if my current fever and sore throat escalate, I'll be safe and sound in my own bed (wait, do I even have my own bed? I guess I mean Zoe's bed.) with Millie in no time.

The other most exciting stories:

1. A black kite (a large hawk/eagle/vulture-like African bird) swooped down while we were having lunch on safari yesterday and tried to steal Sanjay's sandwich. Luckily, Sanjay kept his sandwich, but he does have two large claw scratches on his arm from the scuffle. Of course, since then, rumor has spread among the volunteers about the incident. I believe the last I heard was that a pterodactyl bit him, that he overheated on safari and had to be med-evac-ed to Nairobi. Actually, that's a conglomeration of three exaggerated rumors - the black kite, the volunteer falling from her bunk and the overheating of our vehicle while we were on safari. (Yep, we were stuck for almost an hour, not really certain if we would ever actually leave Ngorongoro Crater while our guides poured water that exploded into steam on our 1,000,000-degree engine. More on that later . . .
2. Someone tried to mug Connie on the daladala (a small bus form of public transportation that generally holds about 30+ people with asphyxiating BO in a vehicle the size of a minivan). While two other volunteers exited the daladala (which Diane calls the dollydolly), a man held Connie by the arms and tried to rip off her hip-sack. Luckily, Nadia (a totally nice volunteer from the UK who works with Connie on her placement at Patandi School, a school for special needs students), hit the guy and Connie escaped without any losses other than her false sense of security. Connie's in her 60s, so I assume they thought she'd be an easy target. Little did they know who they were dealing with! She's one tough cookie.

Anyhow, since I last wrote, other than continuing to work at our placements, we've visited St. Lucia's Home for HIV/AIDS orphans and infected women, painted Shepherds Junior and went on a one-day safari to Ngorongoro.

At St. Lucia's, we played with the orphans, and visited the lone adult patient currently residing in the facility. She, I believe, was the saddest case of all, as she's laid on a mattress on the floor without speaking a single word for two years. As they described her situation, it was the first and only time I've been nearly moved to tears. Her husband abandoned her there and has since moved on, with her children (and likely her infection as well), to another wife. I have never been in the presence of someone so completely alone.

As we left, they shared some general information about the AIDS pandemic in Africa. The figure they shared was that in the small ward of Arusha they serve (called, I believe Mt. Meru or Moivaro), it is estimated that 32% of the adults are infected, and the number is rising despite their best efforts. (Of course, they said, the statistics are collected by multiple agencies without any clear central accountability or method, so there's really no telling.) While the Clinton Fund is currently providing free drugs to combat the disease, that funding is limited to two years, and they're not certain how they'll replace it. They said that the key reasons for the continued spread of the disease are shame, silence, and an unwillingness to even be diagnosed, a tradition of wife inheritance, especially among the Masai, which passes even the wives whose husbands have died of AIDS on to the husband's brothers, the continued practice of traditional medicine among practitioners who do not sterilize their instruments and equipment between patients (and, in many cases, who don't treat the disease but rather the "curse"), and religious rituals, like mass circumcision, which are practiced by using the same, uncleansed instrument on all participants.

On Friday afternoon, we also painted my school, Shepherds Junior. Nearly 20 volunteers went, plus Zungu, a local artist who works next door to our dormitory. On Friday morning, I asked him if he'd donate his time to help us that afternoon, and he agreed without hesitation. He's SO nice., and made our job SO much easier, since he helped us open the paint, mix it, you know, the stuff I'd have had no idea how to do. Instead of paint stirrers, he used sticks, instead of sandpaper, he used stones. He thinned all the paint, and walked with me to the local hardware store when we needed to procure additional supplies. Even the taxi driver who brought us there picked up a paint brush to help. It was awesome, and it turned out incredibly. On the outside, it's bright blue with bright red trim, and the three classrooms are light green, light blue and gold. I must admit, I was very proud to have organized the effort. I can't wait to see the kids faces when they return to find their formerly gray stucco classrooms newly brightened and glossy with a fresh coat of paint.

Zungu's even coming back with me this week while I paint so that he can add a mural to the front of the building. I can't wait! Even though he doesn't have much, he's SO generous with his time - he also teaches art, for free, to local children in his spare time. We learned that when our team of painters took him out to dinner at Big Bite after we were done renovating. The food was awesome (think Amber India in Mountain View awesome), and it was totally interesting to talk to him, too. He actually used to be a porter on Kiliminjaro before he became an artist, and he only completed primary school but speaks nearly impeccable English. Based on his Kili experience, he said that he had no doubt that Sanjay would make it to the top . . . but he wasn't so sure about me.

After our Big Bite feast, I immediately went to bed as we had to get up to leave for a 6am safari departure.

The next morning, we left in an I-just-know-this-thing-is-about-to-break-down-and-strand-us-in-BFE minivan. Beth and Tegan packed a TON of snacks (thank goodness) so we ate crackers, peanut butter and nutella the whole way. Jean also provided us with some seriously coveted M&Ms. As we drove, we shared our favorite Africa songs by passing around everyone's iPod. We listened to today's:

Songs of the Day

• Africa, by Toto - I know, I know, this was yesterday's song, too, but I probably listened to it 5 times yesterday, so I haven't managed to escape its grasp yet.
• Circle of Life, by Sir Elton John and from Disney's The Lion King. Actually, this song nearly makes me cry when I hear it and am driving through the edge of the Serengeti. How lucky can one girl be?
• Baba Yetu, which is the Swahili Our Father. I don't know who sings this, but Alex, a 19-year-old good Catholic boy from Canada, brought it and it is incredibly beautiful.
• Weeping, by Josh Groban with the South African group Ladysmith Black Mombazo. It's a song about apartheid.

Once we'd completed our nearly three-hour drive to Ngorongoro, which is a huge imploded crater in the earth in which alot of animals live, we stopped at the gate to use the restroom, pour water onto our already-nearly-overheated engine, and watch a troop of baboons steal lunches from the Range Rover parked beside our broken-down heap. Even the monkies knew which of us would have packed the superior lunch . . .

We continued our drive, and they opened the roof of the minivan for us to peer out at the multitude of cheetahs, waterbucks, elands, gazelles, impalas, zebras, lions, elephants, flamingos and birds of all shapes and sizes (the coolest one was the Sacred Ibis). Once we'd made about 1/2 of our trip around the massive crater floor, our vehicle, as suspected just gave out. We were stuck for about an hour, but eventually, after significant consternation and talk with our travel companion Jean about how she, as a Boulder park ranger, would have the skills and supplies to save us, the vehicle cooled down. Of course, the drivers were feverishly running back and forth to the nearest mud puddles to fetch the water with which to cool the engine.

After we continued, we stopped for a quick boxed lunch of a grated cheddar-like substance & butter on white bread sandwich with a bluish-colored hard-boiled egg and a green, flavorless orange. We drank black currant juice from boxes. Luckily, they included some sort of African Doritoes and hid two tiny candy bars at the bottom, which we each quickly gobbled up.

After lunch (which was at about 3:30), we started to drive from the crater and, because a rain shower was moving our direction, we started to get super cold. Tegan and Alex had to pee so bad, and I started to feel feverish, irritable and my throat was killing me. We drove with wind gusts of about 2-degrees and speeds of 1,000 mph for over an hour while I slowly felt sicker and sicker. I put on my bright pink raincoat to warm up, but to no avail. Finally, we reached the exit gate, and several of us literally raced to the bathroom.

The rest of the drive was extremely protracted as well, because they couldn't push the gas too hard for fear of us overheating again. It may have seemed even longer for Diane, Jean and Sanjay, as Beth, Tegan, Alex and I sang the entire way home without any accompaniment except for the iPods in our ears. They hated every single Jewel, Beach Boys, Billy Joel and Simon and Garfunkel song we massacred, but I actually think they liked our rousing rendition of today's final

Song of the Day:

• I Touch Myself, by the Divinyls, which seemed to be very well-received.

We also stopped on the side of the road for Tegan's pee-break as Maasai warriors wandered past and watched her in an area that had until that moment seemed entirely deserted.

As we drove into Arusha town, we begged to skip dinner, but our super-nice guide Naaz (a 22-year-old who's married to a former CCS volunteer) wouldn't allow it. He stopped and insisted, because of the vehicle problems, that he buy us each a dinner of fried chicken and chips (i.e., fries) at Steers, a local fast-food joint. The chicken had feathers all over, so I avoided it. The fries were good, though, and as I left the man cleaning our table said, "She likes fat, but not chicken." No shit, Sherlock.

Anyway, eventually, we got home. I've never been so grateful for a hard mattress on a bottom bunk in a room with water that runs only part of the time and is generally frigid, and supremely unreliable electricity that barely allows Sanjay to charge his camera. But last night I was grateful.

Actually, if I've learned anything at all here, it's really that we can subsist on so much less than we have . . .

I finally woke up, with a low temperature and a terribly sore throat at 2pm today. I didn't want to move, but I also didn't want to eat rice and beans for the 92nd time, so I left the dorm with Sanj and Diane. We walked through town, and, after I clumsily fell into a foot-deep hole on the sidewalk but completely avoided injury, we dined in style at Pepe's.

Pizza and Sprite has never tasted so good.

PS: Thanks for all the photos (especially you, Millie). In my current germ-ravaged state, I'm growing a little homesick, so every little bit helps . . . I'm hoping to recover by Saturday in time for our Kili climb. Sanjay is sick too ;(

PPS: Chooch, you are the cutest birthday boy ever!

Wetting the Bed

My roommate Diane used to be my friend. Yesterday, she wet my bed.

Actually, here's how it went down. Diane was sick and whiny and she took the whole day off yesterday while the rest of us went on a field trip past Kiliminjaro to Moshi. (Kili is f*%ing huge - I must admit I'm getting a little, okay a lot, terrified now. I've heard some serious horror stories and no matter how much Al Gore says the snow is melting up there, it still looks seriously white.)

Anyway, I mistakenly assumed that Diane's "day of rest" had allowed her to recover in full. And, when I went to bed on my bottom bunk, I playfully bounced her bed up and down - just enough to aggravate her. After my pestering, she sought retribution and dumped an entire liter of water on me in my jammies and on my already miserably uncomfortable mosquito-net suffocating bed.

I was soaked, and my bed still has not recovered. I'm quite certain my Swahili-only speaking maid is concerned about my incontinence problem. While these escapades went on, Connie, our "prim but mischievous" moo (we greet elders here with ShikaMOO, so we call the old girls, of which I'm now honorary because I'm not one of the coeds, MOOs for short) found a gecko on the wall and screamed like a six-year-old on a sugar-high for our neighbor "Sanchez" to save us from our insect invasion. (She can't remember and/or pronounce Sanjay's name, but I think it's appropriate that she's given him a Mexican nickname since he wants to name his first child Nacho.)

Sanjay ran over and threw the gecko toward Connie, who ran screaming from the room. He did, eventually, remove it. Finally, with the water spilt and the gecko exterminated, we were able to sleep soundly - except I was upside down trying to avoid the wet spot, and Diane whimpers in her sleep. I still like her, though ;)

To catch you up a little bit, we've been going to our placements most days, except for our field trip yesterday. The babies in my class are adorable - although my throat hurts from singing to them for hours a day -loudly - to get them to pay attention. I'm trying to teach them (along with their full-time teachers, Happy and Angel - how appropriate) letter A and number 0. So far, so good. I really adore them - My favorite is Mary. Everyone says she's mine, because she's the child with the lightest skin and she's also chubby like me. Today, she put my glasses on and she looked incredibly cute. She's 2 1/2. Of course, I have about a million favorites. Leah's another - she's older, maybe 10, in Class 3. I taught their math class the other day, and we held a little addition competition which she won. I cut her out a star from construction paper which said "I'm a Math Superstar". She was SO proud, she showed everyone and even put it on every day for the rest of the week. She's such a good girl.

I've also continued working on a fundraising plan for them, which has taken every free moment I have - and then some, which is, in part, why my postings have been so infrequent. But I really think it could help them to begin to raise the funds to continue to grow this school, so I'm committed to seeing it through. I'll be sure to share the plan once it's finished . . .

Tomorrow, we also plan to paint the three new classrooms that they just built in the back yard of the headmistress, Lucy. I can't wait to see the children's faces on Monday after they see what we have done.

Other than that, we went on a field trip yesterday, as I said, to Moshi, which is just past Mt. Kiliminjaro. We hiked down to an incredibly beautiful waterfall, saw a traditional home from the Chaga tribe, which was very interesting and looked like a tropical hut of some kind. (The Chaga people are originally from the Kiliminjaro area and, unlike the Masai, most no longer live traditionally but have substantially modernized.) We also saw some tunnels in which the Chaga hid from the Masai when the tribes battled over cattle (which they still do, sometimes). Then, we stopped for lunch at an outdoor buffet (yes, you read that correctly, a BUFFET) - where raw beef hung, nearly whole and definitely recognizable, next to the totally unpalatable beans, rice, okra, grilled chicken, noodles and beef mash that we ingested.

Later that day, I (I know this will be a surprise . . . ) suffered my first bout with diarrhea. Lucky, stupid me. Anyway, we made up for it by stopping at a supermarket on the way home where we bought Pringles and candy bars. I think I ate my weight in junk food - but, for those of you concerned about my weight loss, I did get up and jog this morning.

Not too much more to tell - we did play a rousing game of Celebrity (during which I was forced to charade "Pussy Galore") last night with Jean, a totally buff park ranger from Boulder - she couldn't stop giggling. I just love unstoppable laughter.

So, I'll end with that. I miss you all sooooooooo much, but we're doing just fine.

I hope your day ends, as mine did yesterday as a consequence of Jean's silliness and Diane's raindrops, with total joy and a bellyache from laughing too hard.

Songs of the Day:

• Africa, by Toto - which I haven't heard since I've been here but I CANNOT get out of my head;
• Faith, by George Michael, which I sing incessantly to a little girl named Faith in my class, who's also 2; and
  
• You are My Sunshine, which I heard my babies sing for the first time today during morning assembly (They sing for about 30 minutes every morning, all 110 of them together - it's really quite a beautiful way to start every day, to the sound of children singing. They must know a million songs.)
  

PS - Millie, thanks for your photo. I thought I couldn't possibly feel more guilty or miss you anymore. But after seeing that picture, I'm not so sure. You tell them to give you pizza and cookies for dinner and let you sleep in their beds. I promise I'm over half-way done now and I'll be home soon. I'll bring you a prize!!!

PPS - Zoe, I was thinking maybe Holland Elementary could be a "sister school" for Shepherds Junior, and you could be penpals with the children here and send them books, toys and school supplies that your school collects for them. Maybe you should ask your principal or teacher???
You'd just love them, and they could really use anything!!!! Pencils and paper are scarce (they actually ran out of pencils today, and couldn't find any to give one of the students), and some of the babies have never held a crayon!!! They LOVE stickers, even just little stars. Give it some thought, and let me know what you think! Ashlee - is there any sort of project the students in your program could do with the students or teachers here remotely???

PPPS - I know, we need pictures!!!!!! But the upload speed is simply overwhelming . . . Samahani, Pole, I'm so sorry - we're working out the glitches, I promise! You just have to see my babies!

Upendo Nursery

Here's a little bit about my placement:

I am a teacher at the Upendo Nursery, a small 2-classroom building walking distance from the dorm I am staying at. It has 14 kids right now between the ages of 3 and 6 but should have closer to thirty kids by next week. The kids here are adorable! They are these tiny little munchkins who run up and hold my hand as soon as I am in sight of the playground outside the school. They go to this school because they can't afford to go to the more expensive schools in town - they only pay $1 a month so that they can get porridge at lunchtime. (If they can't afford that, the family that runs the nursery pays for it with their own money.) The family is a preacher, his wife and their son Daniel who is the children's primary teacher. He is great with the kids, sometimes I wonder if he really needs our help but he says he does.

The work itself is pretty kickback - I teach them the alphabet, sing songs, and play with them. I guess I didn't know what to expect but working with them is pretty easy, I get to the school in the morning around 8:30, start lessons at 9:00, teach until about 10:15, and then let them play in the yard while we (Hilary, my fellow volunteer from Santa Cruz) go have Chai with Daniel. The children have their porridge served around 11:00 and then we walk them home shortly thereafter. I know I am having a great time with the kids but then I feel like I am not doing enough or not being utilized enough. I'm trying to do additional things like conduct Engligh lessons for some of the adults and helping Stacey with her work stuff. I still feel like I am constantly doing things and am exhausted, but I don't know how much of that effort is truly beneficial to anyone.

I actually got yelled at yesterday by one of the staff at dinnertime because almost all of the volunteers did not attend a scheduled 30 minute presentation about the Tanzanian education system. In front of everyone she said how disappointed she was and then she called out my name and said that as the leader, this was on me. (I didn't attend the presentation either because we had a 2-hour window before the presentation and Stacey and I needed to go into town to buy with our own money the paint and supplies we needed to paint Stacey's school.) Needless to say, I was upset; this seems to be the main issue I have with this volunteer program - it is way too structured and you have no real free time to do any personal items, much less any real work. I understand that you have to structure a full day of activities for the 18 and 19 year olds among us but for us adults, just give us the latitude to be effective.

Anyways, I have to run back to the ranch for another meeting but I really can blog for hours straight, there is so much to say (I think Stacey is writing about our trip to the Masai village right now so stay tuned for that - it's great stuff.) We hope you are all doing well and I can't believe how sad Millie looks - I think we'll have to bring her back an elephant tusk as a bone for her to chew on.

(I just found out today that the Colts and the Bears would be playing in the Super Bowl - how awesome is that! And a special thank you goes out to Win-Champion who is tivo'ing 24, my favorite TV show for me.)

Mzungu Mwalimu

Mzungu = Foreigner
Mwalimu = Teacher

I am both now. I'd apologize again for the lapse in communication but it really is totally unavoidable. You cannot possibly imagine the situation in which I currently write. It's actually amazing that there's a computer at all. Near our "compound" is Tengeru Village. The internet facilities are here. I cannot possibly describe to you the conditions outside the doors. It reminds me somewhat of a ghost town from the southwest - dusty and crumbling with chickens wandering the narrow loose gravel alleyways aimlessly. There's a key difference, however. The place is entirely kinetic - tailors sew on their porches, tiny children play independently, and many people wander the dirt paths that cross back and forth in no seeming organizational scheme. As they pass one another, they greet one another without fail - Shikamoo ( I respect you), Hujambo (Hello) and Habari (How are you?) must pass the lips of each individual one thousand times. Completely unlike the fast, ignoring Americans who pass one another at strip malls.

As energetic as the village is today, it is even moreso on market days - Wednesdays and Saturdays, when you can't even move for all the people. There are second-hand clothes and shoes stacked four feet high (which we've been told are mostly stolen from packages bound to Africa from well-meaning European and American donors), and a farmers market is crowded with individuals selling their bananas, mangos, dried fish - whatever they have - to make a pittance to feed their families. It's incredible. Hopefully, I'll be able to post pictures at some point, but everyone's advised us never to take pictures in the market because either a) our camera will be stolen or b) anyone in the general direction of our photo will expect to be paid a commission.

The small internet shop in which I reside is set in the midst of this place. It's almost incomprehensible to imagine that we're even in the same century as the internet was invented given our surroundings, but here I sit in the midst of total irony. That said, we are talking about a dial-up connection slower than the pony express, but there is something. I am sitting next to two small local boys whose father is giggling while watching them play a game in which President Bush and Condoleeza Rice are armed and defending themselves from potential assassins in the oval office. Small World.

Anyway, I came to the village to write to you about my volunteer experience so far. It's probably good that I've waited 4 days in to write this, because I've had the opportunity to see and feel a little more. Hopefully, I can find the words to describe it.

I am a teacher a Shepherds Junior Academy, a local primary school that has 6 classes; Baby Class (ages 2-3), Nursery Class (ages 3-4), Pre-Unit (Kindergarten), and Classes 1-3, which seem to generically correspond to our grade structure. I am in the Baby Class. These children are perhaps the cutest I have ever seen, snotty noses and all. Of course, I understand nary a word they are saying as, at this age, they speak almost exclusively Swahili. My favorite is probably Eliza, a little girl who sits near the back of the class and constantly says one of the few words I know to describe her perception of my degree of comprehension of the Swahili language - kidogo or "just a little." Of course, there's also Damares, Prisca, Melania, the two Charities, Collins, Faith and Jordan. All of them have the brightest eyes I've ever seen. They sing incessantly. My personal favorite:

Be happy, be happy before you die. (Come On!)
Be happy, be happy before you die. (Come On!)
My friend is ___________. She's a girl.
Shake-a your body before you die. (Come On!)

(In hearing from some of my fellow volunteers at local HIV orphanages and hospitals, death is much nearer to them than it ever is for American children. Just today, three of our volunteers attended a funeral service for an 8-year-old girl from St. Lucias who died not from her HIV infection, but from chicken pox that spiked a fever and, from the perspective of one of the volunteers, killed her from dehydration as they have no facilities to deliver IV fluids and have no time or resources to ensure the children drink a sufficient amount of clean water.)

As for my new favorite song, they clap along and they shake their little hips and dance during the last line if we've called their names. And we try to sing it for as many of the children as we can before 2-year-old booties can no longer sit still (and whose names we know - the teachers don't even know some of the children's names!) Of course, once they can no longer sit still, the teachers tell them to sit quietly and they pass out one stuffed animal to each child to play with independently. You should see these toys. The eyes are all gone and the stuffing hangs out on every single one. But they may have no toys at home, so they love them, and rock them like tiny babies.

Zoe, when I get home, we are cleaning out your closet and mailing them here.

There's a schedule on the wall that says what we're supposed to be doing when, but it seems to be completely irrelevant, at least this week, as it's the first week of school and our head teacher - Teacher Happy - is not feeling well at all. In fact, on my first day, she was not present and on our second day, she slept all day on the floor in the back of the room trying to recuperate. As she did, her assistant teacher (Teacher Angel) and I attempted to keep 33 2-year-olds entertained, quiet and sitting in their seats. It was a nearly impossible feat. The classroom is so small that you can't even get to the children for fear of stepping on another one. It's truly incredible.

Actually, though, I suppose I'm kind of surprised by how little I'm surprised. In truth, the school seems just like an American school with FAR fewer resources. It's not what we've got, but I do believe the children are learning and are cared for by their teachers. (This, in fact, may be the greatest lesson I take home: it's not so much that they have too little, though that's true - but it's become clear that we have far, far too much. And we've lost sight of the important stuff for all the material bullshit. For them, families, neighbors, friends and relationships are still clearly the most important.)

They have no crayons, balls, jump ropes, desks, toys, teaching aids, computers, text books, a/v equipment, etc. Even pencils and paper are terribly scarce. A teacher from another classroom came to our room today searching, in vain, for a pencil. I brought crayons in for the children to color an apple (a sound for apple!), and one little boy cried because he didn't know how to color - it seemed that many of them had never held a crayon before. I'd love to see an American teacher attempt to teach in this environment. This morning, for instance, I hand wrote out the letter a, instructions, the date, and 10 dotted a's to trace in 33 notebooks; in a separate 33 notebooks, I wrote the date and instructions and drew an apple for each child to color. Photocopying is simply too expensive. They work hard - an the teachers make only about 70-80,000 shillings (or about $60-65) per month for their efforts.

In addition to my work with the children, I've been working with the former-poultry-business-owner-turned-headmaster Lucy to develop a capital plan to raise funds to expand her school and start an associated orphanage. I believe this is actually where I may do the most lasting good. Lucy is a good woman who started this school. From everything I've seen and heard, she's done an incredible job given her limited resources.

You can bet that I'll be asking each of you to contribute to her fundraising efforts - I'll let you know more after my plan is complete . . .

Sanjay is at Upendo Nursery, a school for 2-6 year olds. He seems to like it, and I'm sure he'll post later with some details. Right now, he's teaching English to the school's staff.

Both of us are enjoying ourselves, but there definitely seems to be something critical missing. I was interviewed today for a PBS special about voluntourism. They asked whether I felt like I was doing "good." I really don't know. Here's how I feel: It feels good to have babies run to me, hold my hands and kiss me. It feels good to hug them and play with them. But, in all honesty, I feel like I'm getting more out of the experience than they are. I SO want that to be different, and I'm hoping that my fundraising plan is a step in the right direction, but I just don't know . . . some of the volunteers and I are also planning to paint some of her classrooms, so at least I'll leave some mark behind, I suppose.

This weekend, we're headed into Arusha for dinner and tomorrow we'll be camping in a Masai village. We'll be sure to catch you up upon our return. You can continue to expect our updates to be somewhat sporadic . . .

PS: I haven't had time to proof, but wanted to get you an update, so sorry for any necessary edits!

PPS: I'll also get some pictures as soon as I can - you've got to see these babies!!!!