Tinga painting

A day in a workshop learning to do some Tinga painting. I’m impressed with me even if I say so myself!

Maudit Friday

Nathaniel and my Finding Nemo Bandaid
(which you can hardly see)


The way my mornings start usually helps determine the rest of my day. I like my mornings with a nice breakfast and sunshine.

Last Friday, as I hung my towel on the pipe that protrudes off the wall of the bathroom, it burst, and the water gushed all over me, flooded the bathroom and the girls' room. Ditte knocked on the door to tell me that their room was being inundated, and she later made fun of me of how calm I was while the pressure of the water was pushing me towards the door as I softly and politely asked her to call Chris, the hostel manager. Chris and I took 30 minutes to clean the girls' room. Wet towels, wet room, wet pjs, wet clothes, wet, wet, wet... this was not going to be my day.

Later, getting ready to go to Kili Kids, it took me half an hour, as is the ritual, to start off the crappy motorcycle I rented while Paul and a few others in the hostel stood around and couldn’t stop laughing. On the way to the orphanage, we ran out of oil, and on our way back, we got a flat tyre.

In the lawn, playing badminton in the afternoon, Ayelet hit the shuttle cock too close to Butter*, the hostel dog, and when I tried to retrieve it, I accidentally stepped on his leg, and he jumped and almost ate my balls.

After badminton, it was time for football, and Sennedy, the Masai guard, elbowed me on my forehead and I started bleeding profusely. I now have a nice wound which might end up being a permanent scar.

To make things alright, Ayelet gave me a few of her “Finding Nemo” band-aids for the evening at the bar with the hostel mates.
It was a cloudy Friday.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Ayelet claims it was not her fault and the incident was entirely my fault

Doing the masai dance!

Hammer, hammer, bang bang!

Today, i helped build a chicken coop!! :)
I only took forever to hammer in one nail... and then got gradually better until I could no longer feel my arms!

I also saw the biggest boabab tree ever!

Pocheezy Kama Dizee in Machame

I did not climb Kilimanjaro. I doubt that I will. But what we did do, is go up to the gate of the Kilimanjaro National Park gate, ask for the price to enter and then decided to camp just outside the gate instead.

We put up our tents in a patch of grass surrounded by barbwires and small bars and toilets. We asked them why they had put up the barbwire and they responded that it was to keep away the monkeys from the grass… to us, it felt more like to keep away the other drunk locals from the “muzungus” (white people)… so instead of trekking Kilimanjaro, we set up our tents and got drunk with the locals, i.e. the locals that were allowed within the barbwire area.

In the morning we walked the opposite way to the Kilimanjaro gate and kept on walking until we got tired and hitched a ride back to the hostel…

And why did we do all that? As the Swahili saying goes… Pocheezy Kama Dizee… translation - cos we’re crazy like bananas!
Machame is full of banana trees….

Kili Kids Orphanage

Andrea and Pasley.

Best friends and they are all of three year olds. When Pasley is missing, Andrea mutters in Swahili that he will go and get Pasley. Pasley gets pushed around in his mini tricycle by Andrea and before they reach class, Pasley takes 5 minutes to tie his cycle to a tree, then they both throw their shoes in mid air, and enter class. The next day, Pasley is over his tricycle, and now pushes a cart to class and makes sure to tie his cart to the same tree.

Try teaching anything to a three year old… I say, “Ok, repeat after me A…. B….C”… and instead of repeating, they sing “Hallelujah, Hallelujah!”… and after some time “Ba Ba back seep a you any woo, yes sa yes sa…”

During the break, they go out, climb trees, play in the sand, and just run around… The other day, Andrea took a pot, filled it with sand, then climbed a tree, plucked a few leaves, went back to his pot, put the leaves in the pot and spat on it to water it!!

Andrea takes care of Pasley. He makes sure he has everything he has and if not, he shares what he has with him. Pasley is the cutest kid at the orphanage; he has no cares in the world. Today, to punish him, I sent him to his room, and when I went to pick him up, I saw him browsing through his closet naked, looking for clothes.

He is the only HIV +ve kid at the orphanage.

Sometimes when the skies allow it, when we walk towards the orphanage, we get the magnificent site of the Kilimanjaro peak with its snow. The roof of Africa.

Hoffin it at the Hoff’s in a Hoffstel

22 different people under one roof. They have all come here from different parts of the world for the same thing - to volunteer. In the two year history of Hostel Hoff, I’m assuming records are being achieved with each new arrival. Since mine, they have never had so many vegetarians (almost surpassing the number of non-veggies!) under the same roof and they have never had an Indian in the hostel.

The thing about living in a hostel is that you meet interesting people, most of them really nice, and you feel safe, and rarely lonely…really rarely… amongst the clothes scattered all over, the unending search for power sockets to plug something, you can never go from one place to another without bumping into someone and have to either smile, or rattle your brain to not run out of ideas for either polite conversation or like those who are really good, funny comments…

My white hair and white beard should have given me clear indications. I feel too old for this stuff! Amid the gossips, I'm craving for some space of my own…

Buried in my laptop and fervently beating its keys at odd hours and all free hours of the day lost in translation, I have been identified as the one who is married to his laptop.

With the negative comes the positive… my next two weekends are booked in camping trips…