Conversation in Passing

It has been a crazy year so far. I've gone from New Years in Dar es Salaam, to site, to training in Iringa, to site, to Morocco, and now back to site. It was nice to see my family in Morocco, but at the same time it made me realize how fast this experience is going. I've since been trying to spend more time at site, and am savouring every minute of it.

While I was away in Morocco a few things changed: Tusker, my sweet little puppy, is an adolescent beast who is either chasing chickens or humping his pillow; Milo, my cat, is extremely pregnant, fairly cranky, and always hungry; Wilma and Betty have started to lay eggs, however, since Tusker started terrorizing them they started to lay eggs outside half the time..which makes for a fun little neverending egg hunt; and I believe Bobbi the guinnea pig to be pregnant again, though she could just be that they are growing fat on overgrown bamboo leaves. My closest neighbors are getting married (again?) after about 10 years of marriage and 3 kids (the wedding is tomorrow...I have been charged with making the wedding cake!), I got my entire head braided which I quite like, my town doctor is finally getting fired for being a raging alcoholic (though there is no doctor in sight...it's a good thing PC gave us a copy of "where there is no doctor" in kiswahili), Agie (my house girl) finished about 5 kg of ugali flour, and our permaculture garden is growing really strong. I haven't had a chance to put together a formal blog entry, I'll try for next week when I come to town for jam making supplies, but for now I'll leave you with this, a brief conversation from last week:

Scene: Town office, 6 p.m. Wednesday evening
Characters: Pasta-late 40s, short, charismatic, joker, hard-working public official;
Christian- late 40s, short, hard-working, well mannered, god loving, public official
Me-tall, good humored, peace corps volunteer.

Pasta- No one wants the doctor anymore. Everyone wants him to leave.
Me- Good, I never liked him.
Pasta- Greytaa!
Me- For true. Ever since the first time I met him I didn't like him, he drinks too much.
Christian- I don't like him either. He's a drunk.
Pasta- Ka! ah, he did drink alot and (... says something I don't understand but think i hear bangi)
Me- He smokes bangi?? I didn't think anyone here smoked bangi.
Christian- No, no bangi. Greta.
Me- No no, not me, I just thought he said..
Pasta- Do you smoke bangi? Greta. Are you going to smoke bangi at the wedding on Sunday? (he says this with a playful smirk)
Me- I don't smoke bangi. And I won't even have a beer. Only soda this month. (I'm still recovering from a month of illess leading to and occuring in Morocco).
Pasta- Ka!
Me- For true. However, in the state I'm from
Pasta- Masichewsits
Christian-Massachewwws
Me- Yes, Massachusetts, they have legalized banji. They say, if you have a small amount and smoke it, hamna shida (no problem). You can not sell it. However, in America, you can get bangi from doctors, if you have cancer. Dawa ya bangi (medicinal marijuana).
Pasta, Christian- shangaa'd (stunned awe)
Me- For true. You buy it at the duka la dawa (pharmacy).
Christian- A light goes on in his eyes Pasta! We should farm banji. It would grow well here. We could export .
Me- Eruption of laughter
Pasta- Eruption of giggles and high fives
Christian- Really, we could.
Pasta and Me- Laughter
Christian- Ka.


It is always surprising how business minded people in my village are. They think big...and sometimes use fancy english words like "export". It is good to be back : )