Habari zenu? That's it. That's my Swahili. I suck. I know thank you and water, and my first important word... buibui (boo-ee boo-ee), yep, spider. You'll all be happy to know that I've managed surprisingly well (knock on wood) and have only had a few jumps and squeaks despite the nasty creatures popping up here and there and everywhere. That shadow monster in my room actually helped to put creepers into perspective... large man sniffing through my undies in the dark of an African night or an eight legged snickering spit on that I can throw my flip flop at. I guess I COULD have thrown my flip flop at the the shadow monster but the mess he would have left on the floor if I had killed him with my flip flop would have been significantly more than a smushed arachnid. Can you imagine??? Death by flip flop?! That would be hilarious! The ULTIMATE bitch slap fight! Wow. I think I may be losing it, just a bit. The point of the above ramble is, quite simply, I have managed to pancake quite a few good sized terrorists all by myself armed only with the heavy plastic of a beach shoe. I am very, VERY proud of myself. Thank you very much.
I have slipped quite nicely into the laid back life of Pemba. I think I may soon be crowned the local crazy. Seriously. There are 5 dogs and 1 cat here and I have full on conversations with all of them on a regular basis. I spend my days teaching here and there, helping out around the resort here and there, and don't really chat too much between the non-english speaking tourists and my dear, sweet students. So sadly, if I'm not using my teaching voice, I'm using my talking to animals voice. I am a nutjob. But it's the colourful ones that are remembered, right? Better to be remembered for the wrong reasons than forgotten about entirely.
Coming up on three weeks now and I'll have to make some plans to actually start doing something. I have not stepped foot off of this little compound. I've taught, at least a bit, every single day and been out to dive a couple of times. There are lots of fantastic places to see, all within walking distance, so time to get my ass up and moving. Plus, I have to be the first person EVER to come to Africa and gain weight!!! Are you freaking kidding me?!?! It's AFRICA! But yeah, our chefs are amazingly good cooks and the death of me... we usually don't eat dinner until 9 or 10pm! Full stomach then off to bed... hello fatty! *sigh* I've got to make some changes...
I'm sitting here, pretending to "not" be a teacher. Immigration has shown up, not sure why, and they are harassing all of us mzungus (whiteys). I have to pretend to be a guest and our divemaster is being interrogated because immigration (ahem, the joke that is) altered his passport but they are now denying that they did it and are telling him he has to pay money for staying over the time of his visa. It's fascinating to watch the corruption and bullshit here. OH MY GOSH! They just took his passport and said they will deal with it tomorrow, laughing and smiling, throwing out "no problem! no problem!" as they gangsta stomp away. Total pricks!!! And Brad is set to fly out in two days. What the hell?!?! Oh my gosh. To sit here and watch this, the absolute disgusting comedy of it all, the lack of any kind of policy or consistency, just give me money or I make your life difficult. Complete crap. Oh, and did I tell you that a regulator was stolen from the dive shop in the last couple of days? Expensive piece of dive equipment that belongs to a staff memeber. So I've been here, what? three weeks? There have been four thefts, a boat crew "strike", and now this immigration strong arm front. What can we do about it? Nothing. Standard response to most incidents or situations... "TIA" This Is Africa. *sigh* Not sure how one gets used to this. I'm not bitter, I'm not the white princess in black Africa, it's just a right and wrong thing that I know is different everywhere in the world, but I will never just shrug my shoulders and say "meh, whatever". Listening to Raf right now... "That's just Africa... It's F**ked." He's agreed to pay half of the $200US that immigration is demanding from Brad. $200US. Half a year's salary for a good paying job here. wow.
Today must be collection day or funds are running low in the local bank because earlier, three local elders from the nearby village came to talk to Cisca. They were part of the bunch who helped build this small pool they have here. They insisted that R & C have not paid up from all of the work they did on the pool... TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO!!! No paper work, no anything, just you owe us money. Rather than have this go on and on, a good chunk of cash was handed over to make it all go away. No one really knows if the money was owed or not, but at least the problem is gone. For now. Again, wow.
I'm amazed that any businesses last here, at all. But they do, and people carry on, and tourists still come, and money still flows so somewhere, somehow, amid the corruption and chaos and greased palms, it works. Who am I but the naive, wide-eyed, stumbling about observer just along for the ride? What a ride it is turning out to be...
Little bit of a funny... I've tapped into my primitive side since arriving and having my sense of safety forcefully violated. My first instinct as I watched those three puny punks saunter off with Brad's passsport was to grab my skull bashing stick that I keep in my room and show them what making life difficult really means. Not that I would EVER do anything unprovoked, but go ahead, provoke me. I dare you!
Remind me to write about the amazing people here one of these days, my sweet students with big smiles and the occasional lightbulb moments that make me feel like, if nothing else, they are happy to see me. They are FINALLY happy to see me!!! Whether or not it's all in my imagination, I don't really care. I think they're happy to see me and that makes me happy. As always, it will forever be about me. :)
Should go and shower - that sour milk smell that I'm pretty sure is me is starting to burn my eyes a bit. Enjoy your Sunday, my western world friends, and we will chat soon. xoxo
No comments:
Post a Comment