Flashback: Africa 2004

Writings from Africa...

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I dozed off and on during the 8 hour bus ride from Nairobi to Moshi, the scenery seemed to change drastically every time I opened my eyes. It wasn't long before I saw my first wild game--a zebra... smashed, complete with splattered guts all over the road.

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We were first shown the maternity ward and met the head nurse, Sister Beatrice. There was a woman on a cot in the back who had given birth to her third son the afternoon before. The nurse showed the four of us volunteers this tiny new person, with the smallest pink fingers I've ever seen. His mama looked pleased and exhausted. That was it for midwifery lessons, on to the clinic next door where we met Sister Mbawa, who is diabetic. She and I had a good chat.

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Women and children were lined up outside the small vaccination room, waiting. Most of the kiddos were crying. One woman pointed to me and told her toddler "mzungu!" I was meant to either distract or entertain her fearful child. I owned up to the name [white foreignor] very well, I am rather white--I have been living in England for the past year.

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We took off into the rain forest paradise of Kilimanjaro. An 8 km trek to the first hut, through Seattlesque mossy wilderness that transformed into Dr. Suessian skinny looming feathery trees as we climbed elevation.

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So tired, so many babies! On the way home from clinic we stopped in to visit the Honey Badger Ranch. Home to the blue scrotum monkeys. A lovely periwinkle shade.

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Woke up with a burning sensation in my bum. Climbed off the bunk and slipped into the loo where I spent some quality time with my exploading arse. Popped some Immodium AD and set off for work. Instead of Majengo Clinic, we went to Mweni Primary School to help with the choir competition. "Jeni! Jeni!" a few girls hollered to me from there seats.

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After a meal we had feedback hour, then history and politics with Zik followed by Kiswahili lessons [Marieta tells me I am a very good student. She gave me an envelope after class today with a photo of her children inside, and invited me to visit her home, anytime. The letter was marked "Jenny"]. During feedback I was moved to tears by Mary's account of the Upendo orphanage and Karen's account of the OCAT classroom [One Child At a Time]. At the school the kids sit quietly in their classroom in their blue and white uniforms until noon when they go home. There is no teacher.

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Dara and I went in search of the perfect fabric at the market. We made it back just in time to make our Swahili lesson. Number day. When Marieta got to '10' she went wide eyed and clasped her hand over her mouth. We made her explain. She whispered to us that she accidentally said kuma instead of kumi. Kuma, incidentally means vagina, not the number 10. After a ton of pleading, she also taught us mmboo. Man can that woman giggle.

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Sister Beatrice grabbed me and placed my hands on an 8 month pregnant belly in the prenatal clinic. I palpated for the baby's head like she had shown me. This babe was looking for light and a tunnel. I listened to the speedy heart tones with the fetoscope contraption. Another woman was across the room in a cot, she was dilated to 3 cm, her baby would arrive later that night.

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Elaine: What if I get acclimated on the Kili hike?

Sarah: That'd be a good thing!

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We picked up Karen at the school, she told us they played charades today. One team of kids acted out smacking each other and the other team of kids emphatically guessed correctly "teacher!"

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Elaine: What happens if you break down in the Serengeti? You can't just call AA.

Sarah: Not unless you immediately find you have a drinking problem, no.

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We had finally arrived at our destination inside the Ngorongoro National Park. While we decide where to pitch the tents Lesley says she wants to "room" with me. She sprayed our tent with perfume, put up photos and her cell phone even rang once. The she passed around orange juice and vodka. Camping with Lesley is fun!

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Lesley woke me with a start saying she thought she heard a shot. We waited and heard it again so we popped our heads out of the tent only to see a massive adult male elephant standing maybe 30 feet away from our tent under the big acacia tree. He was lurching back on his hind legs, suspending his entire upper body to grab a very large branch off the tree with his trunk which then comes crashing down to the ground, hence the thundering noise. Then he munches. "Holy sh*t" we begin to hear from the other tents nearby. The elephant turns and faces our tent directly, his ears flared out. That's when we heard the cocking of a firearm. The armed guard was directly behind us. We were in the line of fire. He was steady, and aimed. For about a minute everyone just waited in silence to see who would make the first move. My first thought was, dude are you going to try to freaking shoot this huge thing?? Then I thought, wait, is this freaking huge thing going to trample me?? All of a sudden, the elephant simply turned around and starting munching again, a small while later he eventually meandered away. After I realized that I was in fact surviving this moment, I recalled the incredible full moon that brilliantly lit the event and framed the elephant perfectly, and the vast African night sky chock full of stars, complete with one shooting across the landscape of others. Wow.

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Someone counted 65 hippopotami for me. And it smelled like it too. Hippopoo. There were kissing hippos, mating hippos, baby hippos [that's usually how that happens I guess], pooping hippos, farting and general oozing hippos, grunting hippos, hiding hippos, running hippos, swimming hippos... so many hippos!

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I went to Upendo instead of Majengo today, so glad I did. I wish I could be here longer. I wrote down everyone's name. We played hard. Some peed. Some cried. Some ate some dirt, and some held on to you so tight and wouldn't let go. Two kiddos could fit on one swing, they piled onto everything they could. I played with Brightness and Lucy. We quickly became live jungle gyms for these toddlers.

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Lunch time today was noticeably different. No screaming kids, no throwing food, no tears, no talking even. It was ominous. Then it hit me. My nose stung and my eyes swelled up. I jumped up to see the tiny kittens outside to get my mind off the tiny children inside. The van arrived early today. I walked to it almost without looking back, almost. I saw the kids and nurses waving slowly, I waved back. They ran to the van, singing and smiling to us. We sang and smiled back, and we cried.

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In Arusha, we met Peter O'Neil, an exiled American Black Panther. He has been here in exile for 34 years and has started the United African Alliance Community Center. He told us when he left he brought 19 year old Charlotte with him. The US papers stated that he was likely somewhere around the Mexican or Canadian border. He read this in Sweden. He moved on to Algeria and stayed for two years. Later Charlotte gave birth to their first son, Malcolm in a Chinese Maoist Hospital where she was told to only say one thing during labor I give you this soldier! Pete wanted to build a raft and get to the states and hide out in the Rockies until the Revolution came. Charlotte convinced him to try Tanzania first, and they've been here ever since.

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...and said my goodbyes, and cried a bit more. One last time I heard the neighbor boy say hellogoodbye in one breath and in a perfect American accent. I watched the scenery change from dirt to pavement, from slow rural labor to bustling town business. I bought a book about India at a stop.

See you there.