First week at Makondeko

Hello, again. I do apologize for having taken so long to post again, however I have realized that internet is three hours away via bus, that is, if the bus doesn't break down. I will hopefully be updating at least every month, so Karibu tena...

I have been on the move since my last update. All the new graduated Peace Corps trainees (we are officially PCVs, or of volunteer status) said our final goodbyes to our homestay families and the training staff and those of us stationed in the deep south went to the capital, Dar Es Salaam, for a few days before flying to Mtwara. We stayed in Mtwara town overnight at a volunteer's house and then Jen, Marisa, and I travelled west to Newala town, where we stayed in a "guesty" or tanzanian-style bed and breakfast for two nights while we travelled to and from our sites to ensure our houses were safe and up to PC standards before we moved in. This was a fun time had by all. We got to travel together with the PCVL (just one of the many acronyms used by peace corps- Peace Corps volunteer liason) who lives in Mtwara and acts as the regional bridge between the volunteers and the administration. She and the three of us newby volunteers visited each of our houses and they were indeed, as they say in Kiswahili, safi sana, or very cool.

I am amazed, actually, at how cute my house is. I drew a picture of what I had invisioned it looking like the night before we went to visit and astonishingly the drawing was dead on acurate even though it had been drawn from a brief descrption which basically just described it as "cute". I put the picture with a description of the house and the first three months at site into a letter and put it into an envelope that I am going to send to a fellow volunteer and have her send back to me after our three month in service training, or IST, so I can look back and laugh at my expectations.

The house sits between two houses that are a spitting image, with a big field of sand in front, separating the three houses and the district water supply. You drive up to the house via a dirt road but you can't stop directly in front or you will get stuck in the sand, according to Mashala, my new best friend (who is also the driver for the district water supply). As we drive up to the house, we see that it shares a huge garden with the neighbor house. There is actually not a back yard, but instead the whole back yard is green, cultivated garden, with several fruiting papaya trees, a lemon tree, rows and rows of cassava, tomato, onion, garlic, an african spinach called mchicha and eggplant! I suppose that it is ironic that Jen, who lives in Newala town just ten minutes away, faces water shortages and I happen to have a lush and productive garden for a back yard. I guess that is the kicks of living across from the water plant.

The house is of round red, brown and black stones and dark mortar on the outside, with a small, covered front porch of cement which doubles as an entry way. The layout is very simple. It is a square house, with two bed rooms, a living room, a store room, dining room, kitchen and two wash rooms, one for the "choo" and one for the shower. The inside walls are cement and the decor is simple; every room is painted in bright, chartreuse green paint, the floors are untextured grey cement and the ceilings are white. There used to be a chimney, but it has been filled in, though the chartreuse green painted cement protrusion that once acted as a hearth is still there. My favorite parts of the house (besides the garden) are the front porch and the kitchen. The kitchen is in the back corner around which the garden wraps so from the kitchen I look out of big windows on each wall and see greenery. I did have to buy several african sarongs, called khangas, which I took to the local fundi, or handyman, to sew into curtains so that all the neighbors don't have a view of my kitchen supplies everytime they come to buy vegetables from the gardener.

Did I mention I have a personal gardener? This is just one of the perks of Peace Corps. He used to live at my house and, actually, still had all his stuff there when we went to visit the site the day before I was supposed to move in (which I guess is why we went to visit beforehand). I also have a personal chauffeur, who I mentioned earlier. There is also another local, whom I refer to as my escort, who has been showing me the ropes of the village. His name is Hakika. He is thirty something, with two wives and a baby and has been bending over backwards to ensure that the locals don't make me pay halacious prices for things just because I am the prized "mzungu" or foreigner in town. He has told me that the manager of the water supply, Mayombo, warned him that this would happen, so he has taken it his responsibility to ensure I get fair rates for my purchases. He has told me that in return for all of his efforts he would really appreciate me helping him accrue some funds to finish his chai banda, or tea stand. I have gotten really excited about starting some microfinance efforts. However, since I told him that I would love to help him out he has chosen to deliver, sand and varnish my newly purchased bookshelves (which he made sure were a good value by taking me to a neighboring town to buy the wood, then to a fundi to refine the surface, and then to another fundi to make the shelves) in addition to offering to move and add to my fence so that the new pit he has dug for me to place my trash is inside the boudaries of my fence! Incredible.

That is the summary of the habari, or news, of the house at Makondeko. My days have been filled by purchasing locally made products for my house, like curtains made from khangas with kiswahili proverbs written on them, bamboo and braided straw mats, a solid wood 4'x6' bed and a 6' "string" couch, made of 2" diameter tree limbs and woven straw rope. Besides making my house "safi", I have visited the two "shule ya msingi" or elementary schools that are in my town, and have been meeting with neighbors and friends in my travels with Hakika as we are searching for the best prices around town. I am excited to have our supervisors meeting Monday through Wednesday. I am also looking forward to a tentative appointment to go to the house of a neighbor "mzee" or wise elderly woman, to have a personal lesson on cooking ugali, the local equivalent of grits, a must at every tanzanian meal. Until next time...