Don't drink the water...

Hello. Is it me you're looking for?
The last week has been alright. On Sunday I went on a mountain hike with my neighbor. The only bad part was that early that day I had walked into Morogoro from where I am staying, and then walked home. Just so you know, that is about a 5 mile walk each way. So by the time I got home at 3:30 or so to go hiking, I was exhausted. My neighbor was just too damned excited to go hiking with an American though, and I couldn't get out of it. Anyway, as it turns out, I had plenty of energy to keep up, and got to see some pretty cool areas to boot. We walked on main roads for an hour or two, generally heading up this local mountain (check wikipedia for the Uruguru mountains...maybe they are there...). This was cool, the best part was practicing my Swahili while we walked. Eventually we came around a corner to this old water pumping station that was abandoned. The baobab and palm trees had grown into the area and through the concrete, making a very surreal image, especially when coupled with the sounds of continually dripping water. While my neighbor Claude (pronounced "Cloudy") and I were wandering around here, we came across two locals who were only too eager to show us the cool spots to go. So we found this two foot wide path going up the side of a hill...great... I was a little apprehensive, mainly due to my not knowing A) the language, B) anyone I was with, really, C) the area. But anyway, these two guys ending up being awesome. They took me to this place littered with waterfalls and foliage. We hiked along the source stream for a ways, and we eventually came to a camp. Now, this shocked the hell out of me, but up here in the middle of the jungle in Tanzania was a Boy Scout camp. I'm not kidding. Bahati Skauti Camp. There was posted on a welcome board there an English description of the camp, and of the scouts in general, and a few pictures of some scout gathering. I just started laughing, and the two locals got all excited and kept repeating "Skauti" over and over. Anyway, while we were tramping through this crazy camp, I got my first sighting of true wildlife (besides those evil guinea fowl). Three monkeys were cruising around on the trees above us. Again I got all excited, pointing and shouting and all. They taught me how to say this particular monkey's name in Swahili, and we watched them for awhile. It was getting dark by this point, so Claude and I headed home. By the time we got to the main road, it was completely dark out. I got my first true view of the evening in Tanzania that night. People were everywhere, just hanging out on the main roads. I couldn't see more than 5 feet in front of me, but that didn't deter large groups some idling along the road, laughing and all. On the walk home I tried explaining some astronomy to Claude, but man, it just didn't translate. Eventually all he got was that the stars I was seeing here are different than those I saw in America. Oh well.
As far as the rest of the week went, not much to report. On Tuesday the seniors (called form 4) of the school I'm training at had their formal graduation ceremony. I got to watch a lot of traditional local dancing and singing. Some of it was beautiful, like a fugue or something with a crazy drumbeat. The odd part was in between these acts, the speakers they were powering from a car battery were blaring American rap music. Nothing like hearing "Candy Shop" in the middle of Africa... I got to say a few words for some reason, so I gave the school a "what's up, nice work" kind of comment. They seem to really like hearing us foreigners speak Swahili. I dunno whether it's just because we sound ridiculous, or that it is something new and cool. The students have taken a shine to us though. I go and talk with those that speak enough English in my free time during the days. They keep asking me if I have ever met 50 cent or P. Diddy or Nelly. Most of the time I say no. Other than that, I had to practice teaching a sample lesson to my classmates. If any of you have ever heard of "special English", you know to hate it. Basically what it entails is speaking extremely slowly and using simple simple words. For some reason the entire secondary school system is conducted entirely in English, which is some of the students 3rd language. But that's a beef I will need more time to get into. Anyway, I had to lecture for 40 minutes about static electricity using this special English. I know that I am pretty bad at telling stories, but I have never felt like I was boring someone to death as much as I did during this. I truly felt like apologizing and buying the listeners/victims a beer afterward. But they all said I did great and used special English well. Ugh. This is the way I will hav to teach for 2 years. Slow, with repetition. Basic. I might see if I can teach a higher level, just to be able to speak more quickly and truly teach. Also, my penmanship is pretty lackluster. Being lefthanded and using a chalkboard might be the biggest challenge of my young life. Do you all remember that squeaking sound that chalk makes if used incorrectly? Picture listening to that and special English for 40 minutes. Yeesh.
Home life is pretty stable. I get home, do homework, bathe, eat, and sleep. Mama Mipawa keeps me well fed, although the bananas are still ruining me. I got to try ugali, the Tanzanian food par excellance. It was cool. Tastes like a mix between dumplings (from chicken and dumplings, of course), and tofu. You grab a chunk of it and squeeze it into a ball like dough. Then you use your thumb to turn it into a Frito Scoop type shape. Then you swoop up whatever's nearby and repeat. One day I had the Nyamwezi specialty (my Mama insisted, because Masanja is a Nyamwesi name -means peaceful uniter by the way), it takes like peanut butter. Except it was green and had the consistency of glue. Dunno what it was, hope I don't get it again. I'm still cleaner than clean, fresher than fresh. Although now in the mornings I have been given the task of sweeping the outside area. The broom is a 2 foot bundle of sticks. The outside is a giant dirt patch where the chickens frolick. So I sweep dirt with sticks for 1/2 an hour every morning. It really wakes me right up.
Lastly, I learned from example why we boil the drinking water. We Americans apparently have very timid, easily disturbed digestive systems. One of my group members was really thirsty in the middle of the night, and made the executive decision to brave the tap water. The next day he was all proud of himself, like "whatever, Africa can't hurt me". The next day he didn't show up. Or the next. Apparently he was incorrect about his immunities. He told me it got so bad he almost called up the Corps and asked to go home. So I have been boiling my drinking water. I think that perhaps I will continue to do so.
As far as everything else goes, I am still enjoying myself. My language gets stronger all the time. I am making good friends, both locals and volunteers. I met a currently active volunteer whose grandmother lived less than a mile from where I grew up (Whistlers Lane!!! crazy!). So thats something. I am really excited to be on my own eventually. Thats it for now. Congrats if you read all that and you aren't immediate family. I still miss everyone. Hope I'm not forgotten just yet. Peace love and happiness.