Rainy Days

Last night brought a huge rain with thunderclaps and lightning--a mild storm that wouldn’t get a weathered Midwestern gal too excited.  But this Midwestern gal had never before weathered a 3-hour storm under a tin roof.  From 2am to 5:30 am it sounded like there was a damned Metra train passing over my bed!  This evening it is pouring again, and the rain sets everyone in motion collecting the water.  Apparently Mama and my sisters did this last night, too, but I couldn’t hear the activity over the racket of the rain:  Outside the back door hangs a gutter that empties into a plastic bucket.  As the buckets fill up, we fire-line them into the house, emptying them into a large drum.  Once that is full, we fill the buckets (most Tanzanian homes have many, many buckets) and once those are full we fill up pots, and once those are full and we can’t find anything else to fill with water, we watch the rain.  When you typically carry all your water on your head from the well, the gallons flowing freely from the gutter across the ground and no empty buckets to catch them can be a poignant sight.  I was called to my bath this evening during the downpour and Mama Halima made me take an umbrella for the walk to the shower, my bathwater being a bucket of freshly harvested rainwater. 

Only a few days ago, I returned to my host family in Tanga from a trip to the southern highlands where for one week I shadowed a volunteer at her site.  It was beautiful in the small village just north of Njombe, with weather in the 70s, gorgeous amaryllis blooming alongside footpaths, and a confusing coexistence of pine trees and avocado trees.  It was a welcome respite from the heat and the demanding training schedule. 

The highlight of the week in Njombe was our excursion to the “traditional forest,” an ample patch of native forest in the middle of acres of white teak tree farms.  We walked 45 minutes to meet a man who would guide us through the forest.  We waited an hour for him, and when it was suggested that we just go in without him, the volunteer’s Tanzanian friend from the village said, “oh no, no, no.  We can’t go in without him.   The spirits will choke us, because they don’t know us.”  She said there were miracles that happen in the forest. Ohhhh, well no one had told me it was a magical forest!  Well a miracle did in fact occur—the guide showed up after all!  And he was wonderful.  Upon entering the forest, we had to remove our shoes and we walked to the trees where decedents from three families perform rituals and make sacrifices to honor and appease the dead.  The huge tree was wrapped in black fabric, draped in black and white beads, and there were three-legged stools and various traditional tools gathered around it.  He went on to point out the trees that had previously been used for worship.  They were all massive and fallen on the ground—they have been using this forest for worship for over 800 years.  Leaving the forest, we saw the black chickens that are reportedly endemic to this traditional forest; also they are magic.

Then he took us to some caves where people “a long long long time ago” hid during wars.  It was an impressive network of chambers with spring water running through it.  It was pretty fun scrambling through the caves until I realized that the rocks were so soft and cushy because they were covered in bat guano. 

So… my site will be in the Dodoma region!  It is in Central Tanzania, Northeast of Tanzania’s capitol, Dodoma.  This is a semi-arid region, and many communities here struggle with water issues.  I’ve heard that there’s actually a river in my village, so I don’t really know what to expect.  I am very excited that there is a women’s beekeeping group with which I will hopefully be working!  Can’t wait to report back on what my village is like.

Swearing in is in one week, and now I have to say sad farewells to Mama Halima and the rest of the family.