Hi everyone,

I think when we last left you we were on our way home from an unexpected trip to South Africa. After touchdown here in Tanzania we traveled home to Kigwe for a hectic four days to remind our friends that our parents were coming and to prepare the house for their arrival. All this time Anna was still trying to recover on bumpy bus rides while I shuffled around a plethora of preparatory practice papers to take the GRE. A daladala trip, Dodoma marathon run across town, and a safi Scandanavia bus trip later Anna and I found ourselves back in Dar es Salaam with no hotel reservations. No worries, our favorite balcony clad backpackers guest house (deceivingly called Holiday Hotel-What do you think, this is a Holiday Inn? It's not) takes no reservations. Only your tired, hungry, poor American backpackers. Two days later the GRE was behind me and Anna's parents were here :)

What do you do with parents who have just spent the last 48+ hours traveling? Put them on an "overcrowded and dangerous" daladala, of course. It may sound cruel but...well, we DID let them shower first. Then to make sure they didn't doze off we missed our stop which added a good 30 minutes of walking. We were headed to the Peace Corps office but did we take them right to it to enjoy AC and native speaking English people. No, we took them to their first adventure in real Tanzanian food. We finally got them to the office, talked with our Peace Corps country director Pat and then took another dala squared back to the hotel. To keep them awake a little more we played the fast paced game Dutch Blitz which Anna apologetically kicked our butts in every time. Finally we let them sleep...

But the city had other ideas. Like listening to the soothing hammer of a jack hammer in the Holiday Inn (yup, THE Holiday Inn) going up next door. That finally died down to welcome the call to prayer at 5:15 in the morning. So we stuffed them in another daladala the next morning to go to Bagamoyo. There we spent a few relaxing days and more sleepless nights seeing the sites. The sleepless nights were a result of cultural differences: American prefer their nights quiet, Tanzanians prefer to listen to music all night at 160 decibels (if you google this you'll find that ears typically bleed at 160 decibels and, hence, this may be an exaggeration). Anna's parents experienced this type of neighbor while Anna and I slept fine on the other side of the guest house. Despite our parents now serious deprivation of sleep we managed to have a good time. Both mornings we checked out the fish market and saw squid, mackerels, groups, and even manta rays. We bought ray meat, which tastes just like shark, and bargained out of curiosity for a 8lb fish. About 20 USD. Is that a good price? I don't know anymore. We also visited the local art college and were treated in seeing some student sculpture and two beautiful paintings: one of a dhow, the local sailing vessels, and a photo-realistic portrait of a Muslim elder. The school also teaches music, drama, and stage arts, including set design and lighting. We visited the local mission which documents history from Arab influence to Livingston's travels to the local battles in World War II. We even got to see East African money with Hitler's portrait on it. Another highlight was visiting the local artists whose work is truly unique in Tanzania. We made sure to get a few souvenirs.

After Bagamoyo we spent another night in Dar before heading to Mikumi national park. Here we stayed at the nicest guest house of the trip and hoped to enjoy a good night's sleep. But our neighbor decided to engage in loud, lively conversation outside our rooms. Even the guard with his revolutionary war era musket couldn't convince this guy to quiet down. Or so I'm told. I'm the only one of the 4 who slept through it. the next morning we were treated to a full English breakfast minus the English muffins and sausage, which were substituted with bread and hot dogs. This is common and, as a consequence, I love hot dogs in the morning.

We hopped in a car four our half day safari which was a derelict jeep with 3 elevated seats in the back. In the park we enjoyed grunting hippos worried over sun bathing crocodiles, wildebeests (I'm convinced they must be a cross between the American Buffalo and horse, which I believe neither are native to Africa, therefore refuting my claim), Marabou storks whose size requires an Olympic triple jump to get airborne, the elusive Eland, and warthogs who attempt to make up for their ugliness with prim and proper trotting away from danger with their tails stuck straight up. Giraffe and elephants were seen too but a little shy.

Back at the hotel we collected our bags, flagged down a bus, and rode to Morogoro to spend the night with Anna's host family during training. Only two of the family members speak English so our translating work really begun here. We learned that Anna's host father, who we knew is a police investigator, receives briefings from the United States and England about fugitives believed to be in East Africa. Pretty interesting. Our parents were served their first helping (and second and third) of ugali here. They also experienced being by a Tanzanian. The portions keep coming and coming which can overwhelm even the most experienced buffet goer.

The next day we went to Dodoma where Anna and I celebrated our half year anniversary with soft serve ice cream. Then we took Mom and Pops on a whirlwind tour of Dodoma and stocked up on supplies. Finally we made it to Kigwe. We had planned one Tanzanian family visit a day giving plenty of time for people to drop by in the mornings and evenings as is the local custom. Like my parents when they came in December 2006, the village visit was Anna's parents' favorite part of the trip and I could write much more since they stayed for 11 days but I'll try and narrow it done a little to highlights.

One thing sticks in my mind about their visit though and that is that both Anna and I learned so much we didn't know about our close friends here simply because we have been here so long we stopped asking lots of questions about our friends and their lives before we got here. So it was a treat to see our village through fresh eyes.

The first visit I remember well is the Happy family visit. You may remember Anna's closest friends are a family whose youngest daughter is named Happy. Hence, the Happy family. The father, Baba Happy, is the head police officer of the village. It turns out he fought in the war against Uganda's Idi Amin who was portrayed by Forest Whitaker in the movie "The Last King of Scotland". Idi Amin tried to take over Baba Happy's home region on the west side of Lake Victoria. Baba had already joined the Police force and was sent to defend his region. Out of curiosity, because of the sleepless nights, Papa asked Baba if Tanzania has any noise ordinance laws. Baba said they do but since no one ever complains about noise at night they aren't often enforced.

We visited the mother of one of Anna's students, Mama Kibwana, whose is Muslim and thought it would just be another visit. But it happened to coincide with a coming of age party for a local Muslim boy and Mama Kibwana was involved. She took us to the event and we were given four chairs to sit in and watched other Mamas cooking Rice and Beans, playing drums and dancing. Then some Muslim girls came around the corner dressed in rich sky blue pants and shirts with white headdresses. They formed a few rows on their knees and then a crowd stared gathering behind them, in front of us sitting on mats on the ground. A religion teacher came out and a few boys holding drums and the formal ceremony began. The teacher started singing as the boys began beating on the drums. The girls started swaying back and forth and call and response type songs filed the air. This went on for sometime and we were soon relaxed enjoying the music and slightly hypnotized by the girls dancing which almost looked like waves rolling in the sea. Suddenly, the girls sat up on their knees and started turning their upper bodies back and forth almost 270 degrees as the music got louder as did the singing. It was a beautiful song and the simple choreographed motions made it a beautiful sight as well. After the party and food we talked with the religious teacher and found out he composes the songs in Arabic himself and choreographed all the movements. It was an unexpected event and we felt honored to be included.

We visited another student, Wiliketer, and her family and this was our first visit to a true Gogo (the local tribe) house, family lifestyle, and Gogo food: ugali made from ground finger millet and maziwa ya mboga which is fried, spoiled, chunky milk mixed with dried leaves that Anna and I find delicious. And Mom and Pops were good sports and ate it too. We talked with the family before the meal and at one point Mom and Anna were taken to visit another Gogo family leaving Papa and I talking with Baba Wiliketer and Mama Wiliketer cooking our lunch. We started discussing the structure of Parliament in Tanzania and when Baba started making mistakes Mama picked right up and started telling us about Parliament. It is unusual for a Tanzanian woman to know so much about Parliament and even more rare that she spoke up for Baba. Usually the men speak with the men and the women with the women. It was refreshing to see their family dynamics were fairly equal when it came to the women and men. Baba is very proud of his daughter Wiliketer and she is the first to be accepted into Secondary school in the family.

Well, despite my best efforts this is going to be a long email.

We visited our neighbor Malimbocho whose is the agricultural expert at the Non-Government Organization (NGO) we live at. And we learned a lot we did not know about him. He speaks very good English even though he only completed Standard 7 (like 7th grade which is only Swahili instruction). This gave Anna and I a much appreciated break from translating. Also, he is one of the founding members of the NGO. He is originally from the Kilimanjaro region which is lush and cold and grows coffee and many other exported crops. He was given work in Kigwe and saw how hard farming is in the Dodoma region so he got together with four other colleagues and they set about trying to start an NGO for agriculture in Kigwe. At the same time they got word Italians were in the region looking for worthy projects to fund. They wrote up a summary of their idea and the Italians agreed to help their cause. They started by providing agriculture training and school fees for Primary School students back when Primary education was not offered for free. Then the government made Primary education free and Malimbocho and the others saw that many students could then not gone on to Secondary school so they started a vocational secondary school teaching agriculture. They eventually branched out to teaching carpentry, welding, and tailoring as well bringing us to the NGO we live at today. They have recently started projects such as growing mushrooms and grapes as well. I found this story amazing and I really admire the sacrifices and energy Malimbocho has put into the NGO.

We visited our school to introduce our parents to our fellow teachers and a few students. Our headmaster, Mr. Habili, took us on a short hike up the small (very small) mountain behind the school which gave us great views of Kigwe and the surrounding villages. He also has very good English and talked with our parents most of the visit without us having to chime in too often. That night Anna and I heard a strange buzzing sound together with tiny pitter-patters outside our window. When we went outside we only found that the sound was coming from a slightly rotted out beam supporting our tin roof. We were unsure if it was a bug or mouse gnawing away at the wood but we could not get close enough, or rather were too tired to deal with it, so moved our mattress out into the sitting room and finally got to sleep just before 2am.

Then came the day of slaughter: Friday, the big Kigwe market day that brings villagers from the greater Kigwe area in to but and sell meat. Vendors from Dodoma town also come to sell shirts, shoes, fabric, bikes parts, shovels, fruit, you name it. Around noon those cows and goats who have been sold for meat are taken to a covered, concrete slab and slaughtered. Nothing goes to waste. The blood is collected and boiled for drinking, the skin pounded off and used for bags, and all edible meat and organs, including the brain, are sold. We decided to buy goat meat since Mom and Pops had never tasted it before so I was sent to get it while they waited in a mud hut restaurant. While waiting for the meat to cook I noticed them throwing goats' heads, fur and all, onto the fire and charring the skin and horns. What do they eat? Like I said, nothing wasted: tongue, nose, brain, everything. Did I want any? I figured I should just stick with the meat for now.

After the market we figured our parents could handle a little more bloodshed so rounded up our big rooster and cut off his head. As we were plucking off the feathers and cutting up the meat the mysterious buzzing sound started again. I got a chair and stool and sprayed inside the only visible hole in the wood. There, done and done. Fifteen minutes later the buzzing started again so I got a chair, stool, and hammer out and began banging on the piece of wood. Our friend Denny, who is Baba Happy's eldest son and attends Form V in town, came by to greet us and practice his English with our parents. We quickly brought him up to speed on the events taking place. I continued hammering and a piece broke a little and slid down revealing the inside of the rotted beam and the worried face of a cute tiny field mouse. The pitter-patter sound accounted for, the buzzing sound assumed to be gnawing. I gave a heads up and hit the piece another time and it went crashing to the ground. Within seconds the mouse was making his way up the wall of the house to take refuge in our attic, which is accessible from the outside, while Denny picked up a piece of the broken wood and whacked the mouse dead before it got even half up the wall. Later Papa would bemoan his aged reflexes saying, "You know, by the time I thought, 'Hey I should pick up a piece of wood and kill that mouse,' Denny was already brushing his hands off having done just that." Our work done, we retired inside and began talking. A few moments later Anna and Mom were hearing buzzing sounds again. Chair, stool, and hammer out again I began banging on the other half of the beam. Suddenly a carpenter bee, these suckers are big, few out of the hole clearly unaffected by the spray. Seriously, a mouse AND a carpenter bee. Chair, stool, and hammer returned we picked up our conversation. More buzzing. Chair, stool, hammer. Bang, bang, bang and another carpenter bee flew out. We'd learned our lesson so I continued banging. More buzzing. Then a carpenter bee fell out of the wood and struggled to walk on the ground. So this was the one who took the brunt of the spray. We stepped on him and continued banging. More buzzing. A forth bee flew out and five more minutes of banging assuaged our tired minds that there were no more bees in that beam. So it was, and so it still is.

The chicken was cooking but we till had the feet just lying around. Mom suggested we bury them sticking up in the ground for fun. We did and left. Slowly the remaining came by to pay their respects to their fallen leader. The eldest hen clucked a eulogy that began, "He wasn't brave or smart but he was, in every sense of the word, a chicken." However, the other chickens lost interest and were witnessed to be pecking and pooping around the remains of the rooster. Indeed, even the hen lost her train of thought and quickly followed suit after only a one sentence panegyric. The meat was a little tough, the old rooster having chased many a hen in his day, but Anna served it in a delicious egg, tomato sauce over rice. I had the honor of being served the heart and so can attest that this rooster had a good one.

We then visited another outlying village and were served more authentic Gogo food. This time it was finger millet ugali and chapali, a dried leaf, and mlenda a dried leaf that is then mixed with water or milk and some times ground peanuts and resembles the slime from "Ghostbusters" in consistency. It's also very good. We visited the mother of a students, Mama Geoffrey, who only graduated from Standard 7. As with all the other visits we showed her pictures Anna's parents brought from her childhood. And Mama Geoffrey didn't miss a thing. She recognized people she had only seen in a picture once that we showed her in January from our wedding. When we showed her a hot air balloon (not many, if any, in this country) and began to explain how it rises and falls she completed our explanation for us about hot air causes it to rise and turning the engine off, hence, cooling it causes it to fall. Wow. A poor, single village Mama. But she is sharp.

One of the last days we went to church were our parents got a similar welcome to the one we got returning together in January. Drums, whistling, impromptu singing, and fabric. We had a nice visit with the Happy family the last day and then accompanied them back to Dar. It was a wonderful visit where we found ourselves feeling more like family. Now Anna and I are back in the village busy teaching but glad to know we'll be staying home for a while. Until next time,

Justin

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