this post is destined to be less anecdotal in light of the obstacles facing our project ... fasten your seat belts (as if they have those in tanzania). november has thrown us a bucket of lemons. between my malaria (which returned with a vengeance only a week after completing my first round of medication) and the headway we had already made researching sunflower oil production and profit margins, we were indescribably frustrated when the expected "vuli", or short rains, continued to elude us. rightfully so, the farmers in kikundi resisted our request that they continue cultivating their land for sunflower planting, saying that the sun was simply drying out the soil and there was little hope of precipitation in sight; however, we saw a need to prepare the land in advance of said rains, should the come. so we began a waiting game ... it was too early to give up on the idea of sunflower, yet all signs were pointing toward this need. as of december, we decided that even if the rains arrive, january and february will be so hot (ugh) that it will stunt the plant's growth and therefore "haribiko", or destroy, the crop. and thus, our project idea was suffering the same fate as the maize currently wilting in the fields. but one invaluable piece of information derived from the month of november was our observation as to the shift in work amongst the farmers in kwakiliga. we had become accustomed to a large group of men sitting underneath the community tree at the center of town during the heat of the day, in between their morning and evening "shifts" in the field ... and to women and children selling beautiful produce from baskets at dusk ... and to men eating at the hotelini for breakfast in anticipation of the hard labor they were about to endure ... and to the kikundi members showing up in a timely fashion to our weekly meetings. yet the heat put an end to these habits. the produce being sold is small and tired ... and the need to weed or plant is suspended with the change in weather ... and men are opting to sit in the shade of their homes rather than in hotelinis or under the community tree ... and the kikundi members are becoming "no shows" one by one. we have therefore identified an imperative need to shift the community's mindset, as heat and crop failure needn't be correlative. we are currently working with kikundi to pivot the group's momentum in a new direction which unifies the ideas of "homesteading" and "permaculture" through the use of household waste water ... abdicating their dependence upon rainfall. we are in the midst of planning the installation of said plots, and i shall discuss the idea at greater length once the planning "curtain" has been dropped.
to offer something comedic in this post ... we have developed a horrid rat problem which is somewhat of an inevitability given the gaps in our corrugated metal roof. they've eaten the hot peppers in the kitchen.,chewed through the rope i use to hang cards in my room, and even used my mosquito bednet as a play area. when rolling over in bed a few weeks ago, i accidentally punched one only a few inches from my face and twice now they have run directly between my feet. yes, i shrieked. but a smarter person than myself would have realized that a rat infestation equates to a second and larger problem ... hold your breath! last week, while i was in korogwe buying rat proofing supplies, sarah called me in a bit of a panic. she was in the middle of writing a letter to hey boyfriend when she heard a rustling and looked down to see a large, gray, four foot snake slithering between her feet and, in one fell swoop, ran out the front door yelling "Saidi! Njoo! Nyoka! Kubwa!" which translates to "Help! Come! Snake! Big" and the group of men constructing a house next door started running at full speed towards the house with sticks and knives. they searched for fifteen minutes before finding it in the guest room, astonished as to its size and speed and frantically beating it. after the head had been severed and the men stood out back smoking cigarettes and congratulating each other, one approached sarah and said "nyoke, mbaya. mbaya SANA" meaning "snake, bad. VERY bad." the experience, however, has given me great appreciation as to the seriousness with which the kwakiligan community values our safety. lets hope snakes don't travel in twos!
to lighten the seriousness of those sorts of shenanigans, we have adopted a new game we like to call "things you can't explain to a tanzanian", which is proving to be rather hilarious. um, votives? sporks? skydiving? life is full of practicalities here, so the superfluousness of Western possessions is comedic even to me. for instance, two days ago i spent the afternoon eating ugali and greens with a woman named joes keah (joes is their spelling for joyce) who kindly offered me milk at the end of my meal. i accepted, assuming she meant in conjunction with tea as per usual, but instead watched her pour what appeared to be large curds of cottage cheese into a plastic cup ... fat. in light of this, i think it is safe to add "non-fat milk" to the game's list. to her, it is a source of energy and sustenance, but to me it is a texture i had to force down despite my gag reflect and, later, apologize to my body for having subjected it to something unpalatable. stomach of steel!