Bagamoyo -In and out of town

Im home now. Just have a look at what I am missing; a bunch of friendly faces, happy builders, and fun in town and on the road!!

cowson and moogey beer




georgie porgie puddin in pie





Say Nzuri

Kyle with his hands full

More news of the project and other images coming soon!!

A GOOD HAIRDAY ON THE FARM

Today is a fine day to take off my hat and go to the hairdresser. Wish you were here.



Learning curve-- week5


Well, I finally did it. It is not quiet basketry, but it is weaving. The women folk gather papyrus and make mats. I had a marvelous teacher, Mos, or mama Rama. I’m not skilled enough to start the weaving on my own but I can say I enjoy every part of the process. After posing questions (in general showing eager interest in the best I understand you -you understand me non-language full body communication I could muster), she gleefully dusted off her mat which was inside on the wall. This, by the way, is the only Tanzania house that I have entered. I think she said she wanted me to actually take it home as a gift, but the tears welled up in my eyes and I left the house before she could take it down.

To split the fibrous veins she used a knife and then cut each blade into 4 strands, leaving two attached. They served a function later, when they were woven. The halves were held in place, near her hands while she wove until she needed new material, thus saving the step of picking up new pieces from her lap. Thank you Mos for your kindness and for calling me your rafiki (friend).

niceness

I watched last evening from the high perch of the tenant house as a handful of kids returned from the citrus grove with oranges tucked in their clothing. We sat on a mat and they filled the void between the fiery sun and the shadows. One by one each kid peeled an orange. The orange (which was green) was hard skinned and required peeling and then cutting, then sucking and a great deal of seed spitting. The part I found woefully painful was the waiting. There was only one machete, but each child waited and there was no frenzy, nor need to distribute pieces fairly. The little ones watched until their time came. By then the old boss kids (10 years as opposed to 4) would help. I was touched by the lack of demanding it took and scared watching these babies with a giant machete navigate a tiny round orange. In the end it was no big deal.

It has been weeks here in Tanzania and I’m just getting the hang of how to eat the oranges. These days, with 40 or so citrus trees at our fingertips, I am less then motivated because they are pithy, full of seeds and sour. I lend out my knife often, and do relish the fluids, yet nothing to get too excited about.

Luckily we have the gardener- turned- watchman to assist with gathering. On most nights Mr. Afunday (well that is how it sounds) sits poised with a borrowed flashlight (darkness finds us at 7) reading his bible. He speaks about praying, God and going to church. This man is our orange hook up as well. He finds us oranges in the cover of darkness, so I never really can figure which direction to walk in for potentially superior oranges. He somehow climbs the tree, and later peels a few oranges for our enjoyment, while we are busying ourselves for the evening.

It is such a simple gesture and a welcome choice for an after ugali and mchicha meal.

Farm food for beasts and builders

Feeding the fuzzy bunnies stems of mchicha


Our daily meal..swahili sized mounds of ugali


baby duck but where are the eggs??




Our favorite dish made with fresh coconut milk!!