Ahhhhhhh... Zanzibaaaaaaaahhhhhhhrrrr!!!
***sighhhhhhhhh….***
I have made it off the island of Pemba and my whole world is right again. Oh why didn’t I do this sooner? I arrived in my swiftly suffocating island paradise 3 ½ months ago and had no idea how stifling it really was until I had the chance to step outside of it all. Oh I am so excited to be stepping, skipping, and jumping outside of it all. I said I was only going to be gone a week – please give me the strength to stay true to that word. It’s going to be very, very difficult to go back at this point.
Brendan has finished working at the dive shop so we planned a holiday for me to accompany him for a couple of days in Zanzibar then the mainland while he gets things sorted out for his return to the motorbike journey of putt, putt, puttering down through Africa. I needed to get out of Pemba, had never seen Zanzibar or Dar es Salaam so now seemed like the perfect time to check out the real world. And my oh my the real world it has been. Stonetown is really only a two hour ferry ride south of Pemba but come on now people, this is Africa. NOTHING is as it’s supposed to be.
Woke up nice and early in the morning as we had planned to take the dala dala (the local pick up truck / mini bus thing) from the village 1km outside of the resort (Makangale village) into the town where you catch the ferry. The dala dala comes through Makangale everyday at 7am, drives to the next town of Konde, where you switch to another dala dala that takes you to the ONLY “city” on Pemba, Chake Chake, where you switch dala dalas again to get to Mkoani, where you catch the ferry. ***SIGH!*** The owner’s wife had offered to drive us the 1km from the dive shop to Makangale so we were off to a good start. And then Africa happened. We waited and we waited as crowds of gaping, staring, curious children gathered, school kids tripped and stumbled as they walked past, heads turned backwards with owl-like ease, to look wide-eyed and open mouthed, and adults stood mute and unsure until some random bit of reasoning in the back of their still and silent heads shook them free from their trance. Two white kids waiting for local transport. Local transport that of course, doesn’t come.
A friendly teenager who we had both had brief passing conversations with in the village before but of course didn’t recognize us combined his desire to practice English with an inconsequential ability to be helpful. He needed to catch the same dala dala to get to the next town of Konde where he goes to school. After much chatter and checking with this person and that, it was determined that the dala dala would not be leaving Makangale until 9am; there would be no way for us to make the 12pm ferry. This information was relayed with a shoulder shrug and small smile to us and another local who was waiting for the same transport to catch the same ferry. The teenager offered us his condolences as he hopped on the back of a friend’s bicycle to make it to school. In the meantime, Zanzibar Major, the local waiting with us, arranged to have an oxcart, yes an oxcart, carry our luggage as the three of us hoofed alongside to get to Konde. For the next hour and a half or so, Brendan, Major, and I walked the 8kms of dirt road and tarmac through the forest and into town in the thankfully early morning hours – hot but not fall over and die hot. Why we couldn’t find a bigger oxcart that we could actually ride in as well was beyond me but the fact that we often had to stop and wait for the ox to catch up, well, it was probably a good thing that we set the pace on foot.
So off to a bit of exhausting start. Luck looked like it was turning in our favour a bit as the dala dala from Konde to Chake Chake left quite quickly after we arrived and as the rain started to pour down on our arrival in Chake Chake, we raced to hop in departing NOW dala dala to Mkoani. Good timing all around. I think. I mean, we just walked 8kms being followed by an oxcart. But yeah, we’ll say good timing.
I just don’t have the words to describe travelling by local transport here. Crammed in like sardines is just way too comfortable because the sardines are all lined up nice and neat, side by side, same same, you know what you’re getting. Dala dala travel is benches alongside the length of an extended truck bed, covered by a tarp-like contraption, thankfully, with the amount of people crammed in actually being fairly impressive, if you’re looking from the outside in. If you’re inside, well, it’s a bit of a different story. Sitting with legs and arms jammed tightly together, if both of your butt cheeks are on the seat, then it means that one of someone else’s butt cheeks is on your lap, and feeling the elbows, hands, feet, hair, clothing, hot breath, and other random bits of your neighbours pressing deeply into your lack of space. Add heat, dust, diesel, random unidentifiable smells from packages and their owners, live chickens stuffed into woven bamboo baskets and frequent, lurching stops and starts, and there you have it folks, welcome to local travel. Best part… I loved it! I was with people, I was in a moving vehicle, I was watching people laughing and having conversations, and I was seeing things I hadn’t seen before. I probably could have done without the oh-dear-I-think-someone-may-have-pooped-their-pants odor for part of the ride, but really, it was all an adventure. I was a happy girl.
Into Mkoani, time to get a ticket for the ferry. It’s an accepted thing here that there is one very reasonable price for locals, for everything, and one extraordinary price for foreigners. And when I say extraordinary, I mean even when compared to prices at home. Africa is very, very expensive for white faces. Very. So the local price for the fast ferry that was leaving ASAP, the only one going on that day, is 18,000 Tshillings. Roughly $18 CDN, give or take. The foreigner’s price… 52,000 Tshillings. 3 times the local quote. No small mark ups here, my dear. And they know, you either pay the price or you’re stuck in town for the night, where they can charge you a small fortune to stay at one of the only two seedy guesthouses. You’re at their grinning, evil mercy. Completely. We had limited funds because of course the one ATM in Chake Chake wasn’t working. Brendan managed to work a deal where we paid some Tshillings and some US dollars to get on this soon to be departing ferry. Tickets in hand, we march down to the pier.
Oh love a duck, how the entire continent of Africa hasn’t simply imploded upon itself is a mystery to me. As hundreds of us gathered, pushed, pulled, shoved, and crowded our way around the ramp of the ferry, they had yet to let the current passengers off. As ferry staff and then eventually a couple of official looking police officers (??)attempted to get the lot of us to form lines, drawing ropes across here and there so that people couldn’t enter from the sides, the wave of eager to board cattle pushed past these mob organizers and inched ever forward. Shouts and small arguments broke out here and there which did nothing but provide opportunity for others to sneak into the anger created spaces as opposing parties squared off over who should bring what and who should be where. I pushed back, firmly stood my ground, then eventually elbowed and shouldered my way forward, smile on my face, focus in my step. We were getting on this boat. And with much determination (and only the slightest bit of aggression) we did.
By the time we were on the boat, all of the seats were taken as was most of the available space in aisles or on any flat surface wide enough to place a bottom, a body, or a bag. Ooooo… a set of stairs… ooooo… empty seats… swwwweeeeeet! We cozied ourselves in, fully knowing that this is the 1st class section (not in any way different from the other section, just up a set of stairs), but as more people poured in and more seats filled up, we busied ourselves with being the ignorant white folk preparing for our ocean journey. An official looking man in a clean while uniform came by at one point, looked at our tickets, and told us these were first class seats and we needed to move. Yeah, right. Not that easily Mister. Brendan asked if all the seats were actually purchased and if we could stay if there were still empty spots. The man was distracted, repeated that they were first class seats and we should go downstairs then moved on to some other random make-me-look-important task. We saw him later in the journey as he was sitting in the row directly ahead of us, watching the terrible local movie being shown on the TV. So much for first class only. It became apparent that ALL space is available space, you just have to get your way in there and buy time enough not to move because once the boat is in motion, all bets are off. The entire first class section, seats, floors, ledges, stairs, and any other clear flat surface, was being sat and / or slept upon as we pulled away from port. Nicely done, white folks, nicely done.
The two hour ferry ride was pretty uneventful as I had popped my trusted anti-throw up meds and was blissfully drooling on Brendan’s arm like a toddler at naptime. I love that medicine. Brendan’s keen been-in-Africa-for-a-long-time senses were on full alert as Stonetown harbor came into view. Come on, grab your bag, let’s get to the exit. We were one of the first to be standing by the ramp as we docked, thank every star in the sky, so we were able to avoid the crushing mass exodus as the same load of cattle we boarded with was now intent on disembarking.
While Brendan waited for bags to be passed down off the ferry, I stood back and watched. The people, the porters, the cargo, the vehicles, the mass of swirling, flowing, endless waves of black and flashing colours of fabric as the carefully covered women bustled about pulling scarves over heads and the men pushed and shoved packages and luggage along. This is what I’ve been waiting for. Bags in hand and off we tromped. Brendan had been to Stonetown before so we were able to march confidently past the shouting, grabbing, touts and straight out into the dirty, smelly, very alive port town streets. A friendly fellow guided us to a nearby guesthouse that was surprisingly clean and cheap. It has only been open since February, I think there were 5 of us in total staying there, 24 hr electricity, running HOT water, and clean…sigh…delightfully clean. Yes, we’ll stay here. By the time we got in to the room, it must have been nearing 5pm. We had been on the move since 6:30am. Ex-haus-TED! But rounds to be made, town to be seen! As the sun started to fade, I was expertly guided through the most intricate system of narrow alleyways running every which way through towering, ancient, crumbling concrete buildings that blocked out most of the sky; the most elaborate maze I’ve ever seen. Brendan’s navigational nuances came in very, very handy. I found myself laughing for no reason at all as we wandered through town looking at the famous Zanzibar doors and doorways (google it, they are stunning!), finding bizarre little shops around each little nook and cranny alley turn, coming out to an amazing seafood night market being set up alongside the water, and watching the busy tourist nightlife come alive. We sipped yummy fruit juices on a rooftop patio while the market slowly filled and I felt every bit of weight slip effortlessly from my shoulders as all thoughts of life on Pemba disappeared. All of my senses were singing a happy little song. This was going to be a very, very good next few days.
Wandering through the market of nicely organized table tops set up on the newly constructed promenade that runs parallel to the busy waterfront, the barbequed seafood options were staggering, and a little sad, as I’ve spend many of my days watching their brethren kin swimming alongside me in the vast Indian Ocean. Brendan chatted up one of the finest and friendliest vendors around as I watched the people drift by. A few skewers on a plate, a glass of freshly squeezed sugar cane juice in hand, and tired bums resting on concrete benches still warm from the day’s blazing sun – life is oh so good. A fabulous place to sit and soak up this new world as there are more locals than tourists who stop by for a quick dinner of the catch of the day and a relaxing visit overlooking the water and the various ships passing by. Plus, Zanzibar was without power, from December until March, and it is now coming into low season. We white faces were few and far between. I am loving this town.
Was woken up by the skies crashing down in the middle of the night – sounded like a semi truck racing through an echoing tunnel, but turned out to be the seasonal rains that unleash their fury this time of year. The rain seemed to bring with it a choking sulfur smell that we couldn’t place so couldn’t control. What the hell is going on here?! But heavy – lidded and half asleep, if it didn’t go away, we’d deal with it in the morning. Phew! Stinky!
The morning came, the rain stayed. Hanging out in the guesthouse was not an option so raincoats on, we tromped out to see what wet and soggy Stonetown had to offer. Markets and vendors were still humming in full force but the tourists seemed to be hunkered down so it was exactly what I came to see – locals doing their local thing. Busy, crowded, loud, smelly, pushy, bizarre at the bazaar – I was a happy kid! A long, soaking wet day (rain coats can only do so much for so long) covering endless ground sloshing in squishy shoes and I-feel-like-I-peed-myself clothes, nerves eventually wore thin. I can be supremely annoying – chat, chat, chat, question, dumb question, random comment, even more dumb comment, what’s this? what’s that? what do you think? hey! look at this! chat, chat, chat – oh my gawd SHUT UP!!!! Yes, poor boy probably could have and should have strangled me. He had been here before, I hadn’t, I was free from isolation, I was swimming in new and strange and exciting sights and sounds and smells… I was revving in high gear, he just wanted to chill after escaping the constricting world from whence we came. I was more than a little too much. Despite the drenched day and some testy moments, no one killed the other one, I got to see and do more than I could have ever done on my own, and I am convinced that going back to Pemba is definitely going to be short lived.
The skies cleared late in the afternoon and the African sun continued as we spent the rest of the day and some of the next seeing more of what we could see before hopping the next ferry to the mainland. Much more controlled crowds, an almost empty boat, and an uneventful journey. Welcome to Dar es Salaam. The big city. Big time.
Dar is a proper city. Crazy and crowded and all of the chaos that goes with a big third world city, but it’s a real city with everything we have at home. Well… let’s not get carried away. But yeah, there are shops and restaurants and traffic circles and oh so many cars. Cars, cars, cars. Wow, there are a lot of cars. We arrived late in the day so we settled into a less nice guest house in a much less nice place but it’s buzzing and it’s easy and life continues to be very good. Thankfully, the rain has been sporadic and the heat has been much more bearable as is the season. It’s more of a touristy area but the city is so crowded that really, other than the guesthouse and a few western style restaurants (filled with locals) it’s not the kind of touristy that you would think. The street where is guesthouse is located is double stuff packed all day long – several mechanic and auto parts shops are busy with the constant stream of vehicles in need of some sort of repair. Shocking! No, no, not really. We’ll get to the driving conditions later. There is constant whooping and hollering over the banging and clanging as they stand around, squinting and scratching their chins in unison contemplating their next move. Tools and parts and people strewn lazily about the “sidewalk” and store fronts – you never know what you might need. This place is the definition of organized chaos. Well, using “organized” as loosely as possible. The only hassles are taxis shouting to shuttle you around, other than that, I can tolerate the hellos or minor attempts at English conversation. This is a good time of year to be here.
A busy couple of days as there are things to be done. Went to where Brendan was keeping his motorbike and got to see and experience this mode of lethal transportation first hand. I love it, as many of you would remember… me… the back of a motorbike… heaven, but holy crow, there were a couple of moments as we were weaving through cars weaving through over-crowded, nonsensical streets where my heart was racing a bit out of fear and my stomach was fluttering as it tried to find a place to rest in my throat. More than the concerns for our general well-being though, I was thoroughly impressed with how Brendan was able to find his way around, no turn backs needed, and get us to where we were going. I think he was pretty impressed with himself too. Boys and their pride when it comes to finding the way. I’m actually A-OK with it because really, my lemming like sense of direction would have me falling off the nearest cliff and having no idea of how I got there. I am quite happy to sit back and be led around. Quite, indeed.
Funny life, here in big city Tanzania. Incredible mixture of colours and races as mosque speakers blare over honking horns and squawking street vendors. Ranges of female coverings from full burkas, hijabs, scarves, and random other bits of black or brightly coloured sparkly, stunning decorated cloth to the traditional and beautiful kangas wrapped around bodies, bums, and beautiful African heads to regular ole western style wear (not western as in cowboy, but western as in western world, just to clarify). The men are pretty western casual in their clothing, unless it’s mosque or prayer time when you’ll see a few more long light coloured nighties running around. It’s the women, always the women, who catch your eye.
Oh, and every single person, from the big city to my small village, owns a cell phone. No word of a lie. They may not have enough to eat tonight or their humble home may be in desperate need of repair, but everyone has a cell phone. Everyone.
The men, ahhhh, the men. They do like to lean. Most days, all day long, you’ll see handfuls, groups, throngs of men leaning, lounging, reclining, or full out sleeping in every stoop, on every corner, under every tree, outside every shop, in, around, and ON the lots of parked cars, and generally anywhere that you may want or need to walk. The women? As with most places in Africa, they are busy swishing, swooping, and swirling through the streets. Baskets, bags, boxes, and buckets on heads, cleaning, cooking, shopping, tending to, or straightening up. There is a strong business class here, many people dressed smartly rushing here and there, but you know that at home, there are the hard-working African Mamas holding it all together. Every book you read, every story you hear, it’s the women, always the women, who push life on. My sense of inadequacy grows by the day as I simply drift by, witness to the power of an African woman.
Even though Brendan needed to get lists of things accomplished before he’s ready to head down the coast of Mozambique, he indulged me in motorbike rides when he could. A day spent heading south, intending to follow the water line but instead found ourselves a bit turned around, was better than we could have planned. The scenery ranged from proper towns buzzing with thousands of people shifting on street corners as they waited for this local bus or that one, darting across the streets choked with every mode of transportation imaginable, all trying to squeeze into that last little space of concrete to get one short inch ahead of the next one (thank goodness for the motorbike as we politely but assertively pushed past them all) to blink-and-you-miss-it settlements of a fistful of mud huts and a few roadside vendor stalls offering to sell you whatever you might need, regardless of what it might be. The well maintained highway was mostly free of traffic until we came upon one of these towns or villages and instantly there appeared a solid line of vehicles and scattering people as far as the eye could see. Where did you come from? Where the hell are you going? What on earth is going on here? Cruising along to sudden dead stop, eek our way through the gaping stares hanging out of open car and bus windows, and then off again. So very, very strange.
But so much fun. Stopping for lunch at a beautiful convention resort in the middle of nowhere with no business but us and being treated with such kindness, people watching and being watched as we stopped to buy an excessive amount of fruit from the street vendors for a ridiculously small amount of money in one of the towns in constant motion, nobody pulling at us or seeing our white faces as an opportunity to take money. People carried on with their normal day to day and were polite, welcoming, but not the least bit intrusive or harassing. There was no tourism here, just life. It was fantastic.
We found lots of western style supermarkets (that I went NUTS over!) and even found a proper shopping mall on the outskirts of town, again, all thanks to Brendan’s Superman sense of direction and determination to get to where we wanted to go. To get around this city on that bike was a feat that cannot be dismissed lightly. Asian city crowding is one thing, there are motorbikes and scooters and vehicles by the gazillions, but African city crowding is a whole different ball game. Very few bikes, a million more cars, SUVs, and buses, all in some state of disrepair or severe distress loaded with excessive amounts of random people and cargo being driven with even more reckless abandon on roads barely intended for use. And I sat back, held on, and enjoyed the ride. Doesn’t really seem fair, does it?
I think more than anything, I was just completely over the moon excited about seeing civilization. Crazy or calm, harassing or welcoming, familiar or weird, it was all absolutely wonderful. Being on that resort for months had wiped my mind clear of life in the real world. While I was functioning day to day, normally puttering along, I was quickly and unknowingly sliding into a deprived and mangled life of reclusion where things become acceptable, simply because there is no option for change. It’s one of those things where you have no idea of how far gone you are until you surface again. And I have surfaced again. I have surfaced sputtering, choking, and gasping for the air that I had no idea I was in desperate need of. I have finally been introduced to the lives, culture, and experiences that I came here looking for. My heavy heart has been woken up to the adventure that lies just outside of that twisted and barbaric place that I have called home these past few months. I can shake my head in sorrow or I can see it as an opportunity to fully appreciate what the next part of my journey can be after being deprived of it for so long. Yes, yes, that’s what I’ll do. Start planning my journey.
After bidding a very sad farewell to someone whom has become deeply near and dear to my heart, I have returned to island life. Not one single guest for days to come and tension so thick I felt my throat close pulling into the plot. The bully has returned, his temper being more vicious and less in control than ever. He has verbally attacked his wife and Mac with a brand new level of fury and both of them continue to play the part of shrinking violet. Again, being where we are, so far from everything, are there really many options? As much as it angers me to see this creep doing what he does, I feel for both of them and I want to shake both of them. They are too deeply entrenched with this place and this man to see how wrong his behaviour is but they are also limited by the mind-numbing isolation that this place creates. Or so it appears. I’ve asked Mac why? Why does he continue to allow himself to be treated this way and he just looked at me with the heaviest eyes I have seen in a very long time, shook his head slowly and replied, “I don’t know.” To egg this beast on or even to merely stand up to him has potentially violent consequences. It appears that everyone has simply learned to stand by, a few steps back with head bowed, waiting out the tirade then tiptoeing lightly until you are again worthy enough to be spoken to. And yes, today he is Mr. Happy Sunshine. It’s sick. There’s no need to go into all of the gory details but the toxicity of this place is devastating. I must get out.
My long winded nature continues, big surprise, and now I need to go about planning my escape. It’s not as easy as it may seem as I have to figure out visas, where I’m going, what I’m doing, and how I’m getting there all while being unemployed. I think I’ll still stick with the plan of heading to the south of Mozambique but there are still things I want to see in Tanzania before I go. I hadn’t planned to hit Moz. until June but I can’t imagine being here for another 6 weeks. I just can’t imagine. But I have to plan carefully and quietly because if word gets out, he could make my life very, very difficult. He has been digging for information with what he thinks are innocent and carefree questions since I got back but really, I’m not that dumb. My answers remain vague, I am keeping my distance, and remembering that less is better here.
Now I am tasking you, my dear and dedicated readers, with sending good karma my way. If anyone has suggestions, connections, or job possibilities in Tofo or Inhambane Mozambique, please send them my way. I’ll be doing as many searches via sketchy internet as I can but finding work online in Africa is about as hopeless as me waking up 6’ tall tomorrow morning. I can wish as much as I’d like, but it ain’t gonna happen. Come on universe… throw me a good one!!!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Feeling stuck
So much for me keeping up to date with the blog thing. Sadly internet availability has been reduced even further and finding a good chunk of time to sit down and get my thoughts together has been hard to do. I can’t really say why, it’s not like I’m in the midst of a hustling bustling life style here, but there’s always something that seems to prevent me from just sitting and writing.
Having just surpassed the three month mark, I’ve been doing a bit of comparing between this experience and my SE Asia tour. Obviously completely different experiences. The devastating, character building culture shock that brought me to tears on a regular basis as I struggled to find my footing Thai style has not been the case this time. To be honest, there hasn’t been much culture shock at all as I live, eat, and breathe western style resort. Okay, okay, the litany of new creepy crawlies and the stifling, suffocating heat have taken some getting used to, but that’s not culture, that’s country. As decision questioning as those first couple of months were in Thailand, I was in a new place, seeing and doing new things, and feeling very much alive as every single sense was being assaulted every single day. I got what I came for. Three months here and I have been robbed via home invasion, witnessed and experienced work / home bullying like nothing I’ve ever seen before, seen British colonized Africa in all its horrid glory, met some of the most socially unstable individuals wandering the far corners of the globe (and for good reason… when you’re a complete social misfit, isolation really is the only place for you!), and I have come to believe that my presence here is more or less irrelevant. Three months, here, on the plot, same couple of faces telling the same self-indulgent stories to random new guests who stop by for a few nights here and there. Can you see where I’m going with this? Can you read my head space? I’m pretty sure I need out.
I could bore you for ages with the messy details of horrid conversations, nasty behaviours, shockingly ridiculous methods to some kind of African hotel madness where only they know best, but all that will do is infuriate me further. Ever y single employee who has left this place has been spoken about as being totally and utterly useless. Every single one, no matter what, is a waste of life. After all these years, do you really think the SAME problems lie with the numerous people that have come and gone? At some point, don’t you think you’d start to take a look at it a little differently? Just a little? Nope. Too arrogant. They were all useless assholes, I will be a useless asshole when I leave, and everyone who comes afterwards will hear all about it. Accepted it and ready to move on. This asshole has had the same brutally ridiculous experiences that all who have come before me have had, and I too, want out before the mental ward gates close me in completely. I will be weak, dishonourable, shameful, and pathetic if I choose to bow out before my loosely agreed upon six months but hopefully my soul will still be somewhat intact. Quite simply, this place is thoroughly f**ked up.
So what’s next? I am officially open to suggestions. My gorgeous travelling soul mate Deb who has just finished India and is now back in our SE Asian heaven is encouraging me to come back to the land that captured my heart. We can hang out, find work, do nothing, whatever. My responsible side is on panic overload as I am constantly shushing that voice in the back of my head telling me that I am unemployed and this is unacceptable. So I could what? Find another teaching job… there are millions out there but this experience has pretty much cooled any interest I’ve ever had in teaching. Sad really because I loved my Thai kids and the fun I had teaching them. So maybe another teaching job in Thailand? Kinda feels like a step backwards. A teaching job somewhere else? Not sure. I don’t think I’m meant to be a teacher. I could head back home to Canada, as mom & dad always think I should do because life is better when family is home, but I know I’d just leave again so that seems like a waste of time and money. I could look into hospitality jobs, as has been suggested by various people here, but I’m not sure I’d stay in Africa so again, I need to sort out where I want to go. Or, and this is the big “OR…..” I could accept Brendan’s offer to follow him south to Mozambique, find work in a down there for a few months, and then continue on travelling and discovering and adventuring.
Oooooo… snuck that one in, didn’t I?! Not so much. Okay, here’s the general scoop…
You all remember Brendan. Kiwi dive instructor who arrived just after I did and threw the three other girls here into complete and utter chaos. Life has changed quite a bit since the tension of dive drama has been relieved and staff numbers have been reduced. This very small resort on a very small island draped in isolation provided opportunities for Brendan and I to spend more time together as really, other than Mac, we are the only staff here. Few guests, little diving, a good chance to get to know each other. We’ve gotten along really well and a little while ago, he invited me to meet him down in Mozambique where he wants to be around the beginning of June. He plans to leave here this week, motorbike his way south until he hits a good dive town in the southern part of the country, find work in a dive shop for another few months, and have me be part of it all. *gulp* really? Umm…
So as I try to over-think, over-analyze, sabotage, and more or less find fault with this plan, I am having a hard time coming up with reasons not to go. I’m done with this place, have been for a while now, don’t have a job lined up, not sure what I want to do anyway, and am being presented with an opportunity to check out a new country, spend time with a really great guy, and who knows, maybe find that amazing new job in an amazing new place. It will take him about 6 weeks or so to get down to where he wants to go and I understand that A LOT can change in that period of time so I’ve left it at this… if, nearing the end of those 6 weeks, he still wants me to come down, he needs to get in touch with me and I’ll go. I’ve been trying to look into jobs possibilities online but hello? This is Africa. You don’t and you won’t find jobs online. I just have to go. Know for sure that I don’t want to work as a divemaster so will have to try to see what, if any, other opportunities there may be down that way if I get there. Won’t know if I don’t go, right? Right. At this point, if I go, I’ve got nothing to lose, if I stay here, there’s a good possibility that things will get very, very ugly.
Trying to think of some funnies to tell you all about but am sadly having a hard time coming up with any. I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that I simply haven’t been exposed to any new experiences. Day in and day out, it’s the same thing. New guest faces come and go but it’s the same blurry days with the same blurry staff who all seem to be drifting through their lives. I can see that I’ve fallen victim to this as well, which is why I know I need out. There’s really nothing of note to tell you about my “students”. Some are interested, others aren’t. Some are progressing, others aren’t. Some may remember me when I go, others won’t. Very little seems to impact most people here, it’s just too small and too far removed from absolutely everything other than what is right in front of the end of a nose. And this will continue and continue and continue. It will not change. I’m still waiting for that life changing experience where I fall in love with Africa and African people, where my heart is overwhelmed, my perspectives are shaken to the core, and I am a different human being for what I’ve seen and done… yeah, that’s not going to happen. Not here anyway. I’m hoping that maybe Mozambique will provide me with that opportunity I’ve been promised by so many people before I hopped that first plane over here. Apparently those experiences are out there, I’m just going to have to look a little further to find them. Fingers crossed…
Having just surpassed the three month mark, I’ve been doing a bit of comparing between this experience and my SE Asia tour. Obviously completely different experiences. The devastating, character building culture shock that brought me to tears on a regular basis as I struggled to find my footing Thai style has not been the case this time. To be honest, there hasn’t been much culture shock at all as I live, eat, and breathe western style resort. Okay, okay, the litany of new creepy crawlies and the stifling, suffocating heat have taken some getting used to, but that’s not culture, that’s country. As decision questioning as those first couple of months were in Thailand, I was in a new place, seeing and doing new things, and feeling very much alive as every single sense was being assaulted every single day. I got what I came for. Three months here and I have been robbed via home invasion, witnessed and experienced work / home bullying like nothing I’ve ever seen before, seen British colonized Africa in all its horrid glory, met some of the most socially unstable individuals wandering the far corners of the globe (and for good reason… when you’re a complete social misfit, isolation really is the only place for you!), and I have come to believe that my presence here is more or less irrelevant. Three months, here, on the plot, same couple of faces telling the same self-indulgent stories to random new guests who stop by for a few nights here and there. Can you see where I’m going with this? Can you read my head space? I’m pretty sure I need out.
I could bore you for ages with the messy details of horrid conversations, nasty behaviours, shockingly ridiculous methods to some kind of African hotel madness where only they know best, but all that will do is infuriate me further. Ever y single employee who has left this place has been spoken about as being totally and utterly useless. Every single one, no matter what, is a waste of life. After all these years, do you really think the SAME problems lie with the numerous people that have come and gone? At some point, don’t you think you’d start to take a look at it a little differently? Just a little? Nope. Too arrogant. They were all useless assholes, I will be a useless asshole when I leave, and everyone who comes afterwards will hear all about it. Accepted it and ready to move on. This asshole has had the same brutally ridiculous experiences that all who have come before me have had, and I too, want out before the mental ward gates close me in completely. I will be weak, dishonourable, shameful, and pathetic if I choose to bow out before my loosely agreed upon six months but hopefully my soul will still be somewhat intact. Quite simply, this place is thoroughly f**ked up.
So what’s next? I am officially open to suggestions. My gorgeous travelling soul mate Deb who has just finished India and is now back in our SE Asian heaven is encouraging me to come back to the land that captured my heart. We can hang out, find work, do nothing, whatever. My responsible side is on panic overload as I am constantly shushing that voice in the back of my head telling me that I am unemployed and this is unacceptable. So I could what? Find another teaching job… there are millions out there but this experience has pretty much cooled any interest I’ve ever had in teaching. Sad really because I loved my Thai kids and the fun I had teaching them. So maybe another teaching job in Thailand? Kinda feels like a step backwards. A teaching job somewhere else? Not sure. I don’t think I’m meant to be a teacher. I could head back home to Canada, as mom & dad always think I should do because life is better when family is home, but I know I’d just leave again so that seems like a waste of time and money. I could look into hospitality jobs, as has been suggested by various people here, but I’m not sure I’d stay in Africa so again, I need to sort out where I want to go. Or, and this is the big “OR…..” I could accept Brendan’s offer to follow him south to Mozambique, find work in a down there for a few months, and then continue on travelling and discovering and adventuring.
Oooooo… snuck that one in, didn’t I?! Not so much. Okay, here’s the general scoop…
You all remember Brendan. Kiwi dive instructor who arrived just after I did and threw the three other girls here into complete and utter chaos. Life has changed quite a bit since the tension of dive drama has been relieved and staff numbers have been reduced. This very small resort on a very small island draped in isolation provided opportunities for Brendan and I to spend more time together as really, other than Mac, we are the only staff here. Few guests, little diving, a good chance to get to know each other. We’ve gotten along really well and a little while ago, he invited me to meet him down in Mozambique where he wants to be around the beginning of June. He plans to leave here this week, motorbike his way south until he hits a good dive town in the southern part of the country, find work in a dive shop for another few months, and have me be part of it all. *gulp* really? Umm…
So as I try to over-think, over-analyze, sabotage, and more or less find fault with this plan, I am having a hard time coming up with reasons not to go. I’m done with this place, have been for a while now, don’t have a job lined up, not sure what I want to do anyway, and am being presented with an opportunity to check out a new country, spend time with a really great guy, and who knows, maybe find that amazing new job in an amazing new place. It will take him about 6 weeks or so to get down to where he wants to go and I understand that A LOT can change in that period of time so I’ve left it at this… if, nearing the end of those 6 weeks, he still wants me to come down, he needs to get in touch with me and I’ll go. I’ve been trying to look into jobs possibilities online but hello? This is Africa. You don’t and you won’t find jobs online. I just have to go. Know for sure that I don’t want to work as a divemaster so will have to try to see what, if any, other opportunities there may be down that way if I get there. Won’t know if I don’t go, right? Right. At this point, if I go, I’ve got nothing to lose, if I stay here, there’s a good possibility that things will get very, very ugly.
Trying to think of some funnies to tell you all about but am sadly having a hard time coming up with any. I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that I simply haven’t been exposed to any new experiences. Day in and day out, it’s the same thing. New guest faces come and go but it’s the same blurry days with the same blurry staff who all seem to be drifting through their lives. I can see that I’ve fallen victim to this as well, which is why I know I need out. There’s really nothing of note to tell you about my “students”. Some are interested, others aren’t. Some are progressing, others aren’t. Some may remember me when I go, others won’t. Very little seems to impact most people here, it’s just too small and too far removed from absolutely everything other than what is right in front of the end of a nose. And this will continue and continue and continue. It will not change. I’m still waiting for that life changing experience where I fall in love with Africa and African people, where my heart is overwhelmed, my perspectives are shaken to the core, and I am a different human being for what I’ve seen and done… yeah, that’s not going to happen. Not here anyway. I’m hoping that maybe Mozambique will provide me with that opportunity I’ve been promised by so many people before I hopped that first plane over here. Apparently those experiences are out there, I’m just going to have to look a little further to find them. Fingers crossed…
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Ooooops... I'm falling behind
Life is good. No angry spitting dragons around for the next few days all is well at the inn. It has been a very nice couple of days and that has allowed us all to breathe easily and enjoy each others’ company once more. It has also given me a bit of an opportunity to reflect on some of the things that are really quite nice about this area instead of focusing on when and how I can get out of here. I’ve had some really neat experiences so far and sadly they have been overshadowed by the Turkish bully who really, in spite of his incredible intelligence, doesn’t seem to have much of a clue. Let’s be done with all of that now, shall we? Let’s talk about some of the interesting little things on the island called Pemba.
Where to start? Oh! I know! A mini motor scooter trip. As things have slowed down a bit here, some of us have had more a chance to have a bit of time off and do a few things. That can translate into a nice long sleep in, maybe cutting the day short and hitting the pool (it’s a little one, but it is magical in this heat), a nice long midday nap, or finding a few hours to get off this plot. One afternoon, Brendan and I took off on a scooter that we rented off of a staff member (and it was a proper little scooter barely room for two. SO funny!) to see what we could see around this place. I think I mentioned that he has been travelling Africa first by bicycle then by motorbike for the past several months so despite the sand and dirt roads with sink holes and speed ditches (not bumps!), the broken up bits of concrete road riddled with massive tree roots and wild African foliage, and the very occasional flat smooth tarmac, I trusted him as our driver. We kinda sorta took a look at a map and a general direction of where we wanted to head and set out. It was quickly apparent that road signs and maps are absolutely useless here. Just random pieces of art or graffiti actually, no true sense of direction or traveler’s assistance. We decided to follow roads as they popped up and see where we ended up.
As most of my teeth rattled out of my head, I was reminded of how much I LOVE seeing the world on the back of a bike. Through the forest or dusty, dried fields, on main roads dodging bicycles, cows, chickens, and children, through back dirt paths and village clearings barely wide enough to walk on… I have missed it so much. Seeing the stares and the waves as we stumbled and bumbled our way around was pretty funny. In villages big and small, everyone had a “hello!” or a Swahili greeting to welcome us to places that very rarely see white faces. It’s really hard to talk about or even begin to describe the poverty here because sadly, it becomes something that I’ve just become accustomed to seeing. The houses are basic and bare mud huts with hanging strings of thatched roofing, you know that the tattered rags or scraps of clothing people are wearing are very likely their only pieces of clothing, and the bare, wide, flat feet of SE Asia are nothing compared to the hooves and paddles on the people here as many don’t own or simply don’t wear shoes. They have little but remain happy, gracious, and inviting. This is Africa, folks.
Something I’ve noticed more as a generalization than anything, is fairly distinct body shaping. For the most part, there are two body types of men. They are either teeny, tiny rail thin lads that are most likely tough as nails but look like you could send them sailing with a good solid breeze, or they are granite blocks. There are quite a few quarries and physical labour jobs around here so the demands of the work has created these muscular oxen that look as if their days are spent in the local gym. Tough, tough, tough. And then there are the ladies. The only teeny tinies I have seen are the old mamas hobbling around, tending to this and that, while they care for great, great grandchildren running wild amongst the tethered goats and free range fowl. Otherwise, these girls got back!! Big ole bums and little waists wrapped in their kangas, with a set of boobs to balance out the booty. It’s amazing. Poverty or not, these girls are bouncing along as they travel from one hut to the next. Not tall girls, not fat girls, just booty girls. They are beautiful!!! The kidlets all seem to be quite thin and of course there are those that are malnourished and obviously very unwell, but somewhere in all of that doom and gloom, the kids seem very, very happy. Making do with nothing, just like I’ve seen before, and it makes me embarrassed for the over-indulgence of our culture. Resiliency is an entirely different concept here. Not only do they survive, they find joy and laughter despite the struggle. My life has been very, very good and very, very easy.
So yes, we sputtered and puttered along seeing some amazing out of the ordinary places and meeting some amazing and out of the ordinary people. At one point, we ended up driving through this interesting little village and what looked like well-worn footpaths through a maze of houses placed tightly together. Out of nowhere, this exceptionally happy man popped out and started shouting and pointing “Beach-i! Beach-i!” Ummmm…, sure, let’s find a beach. So we vroomed along in the general direction that he was pointing and I about fell of the back of the bike when I looked back and saw that this grown man was running along behind us, continuing to point and laugh and gesture animatedly. I let Brendan know that we had our own village idiot personal escort and we didn’t have a chance to lose him as the path was so rocky and rough in parts that he was able to catch up to us and walk, bounce, and giggle along side. A very nice man, but obviously a little soft in the smarts department.
Regardless of his mental standing, we ended up at this beautiful little harbor spot. No beach, but a few boats and eventually, many children. Village idiot was trying to point out where you would end up if you went this way or that way and I smiled and nodded, not really sure what he was going on about but I didn’t want to burst his happy bubble. I left Brendan so he could take some photos and wandered around a little bit in the open farmer’s field that was just up from the waterfront. Random cows tied here and there in, dry, dusty fields giving me much the same looks as the locals do, wondering who the heck are you and what the HELL are you doing here???, lots of hot, hot sun, and wide open Africa. Then I heard the chittering, chattering. I made my way back down to where we had left the scooter, I mean BIKE, very cool, very hip, very gangsta BIKE, and saw the children starting to come from here and there across this wide open field. All of them hesitant but wonderfully curious. No screaming or yelling or charging towards us, just these beautiful little coffee coloured waifs floating and drifting ever so much closer to where we happened to be. There’s always a brave one in the crowd who can get the interaction started and all it took was me finding the one who could make eye contact, putting my hand up and out for a high five, and he was mine. I begged Brendan to let me take a couple of them home. I was in love.
Kneeling in front of him and clapping our hands, I was able to get three more of the sweetest little bravehearts to stay with me and play for a bit. There were many others who lingered just outside of the play zone, watching but not sure of me and my intentions but that was okay, I had four Swahili babies giving me their full attention and my heart was so very happy. Brendan took a bunch of photos while I just tried not to munch on these darlings, all of them maybe between 5 and 7 years old. Absolutely edible. I’ll try to post a few pics on facebook. So we stayed and played, then continued on our journey.
We found another random road that took us to yet another random place, and this time, to what seemed to be a bigger, much more densely populated village. As we neared the outskirts, there were the usual greetings and hellos, but as we rounded a corner and came into what appeared to be the centre of town, children started pouring out of houses and stores, running into the main dirt road and after us, all yelling and screaming what we initially thought were greetings. They were running fast, but we had wheels and Brendan had the good sense not to stop. When I looked back over my shoulder, the road was choked with at least 50 children of all ages and sizes, yelling and chasing us at full speed. I laughed in spite of the hair on the back of my neck starting to stand up. We cleared town and soon realized that we were on a only- one-way- out road. The people on this smaller dirt road that was lined with quarries and quarry workers looked as if it would eventually lead to a beach but the sun was starting to set and we didn’t really know where we were. We turned the bike around and steeled ourselves for the trip back. Neither of us said anything about how we felt going through the crowded town the first time but as we neared town again, nothing needed to be said. People had lined the road, knowing and waiting for us to come back through. It was mostly children and the numbers had grown immensely but I could also see adults behind the throngs of smaller faces or looking out of partly shaded windows. As we approached, Brendan kept it straight and speedy as the kids closed in and the shouting became a chant. I saw puzzled faces, angry faces, hyped up mob mentality faces, and rocks, shells, and other random things being clutched in the hands of those who had not yet joined in on the frantic chase. In the time that we had been away, they had worked themselves up to such a frenzied state that they were no longer friendly, they had become a running, screaming, chanting mob. When a fist full of gravel and small stones hit my face, I silently urged Brendan to urge the scooter a little faster and no one dared step in front of the bike. We were chased, the chanting of a word we have yet to translate being shouted at an eerie fevered pitch and we focused on just getting out of town. This was not the friendly Swahili folk we had come to know and love. It was very, very bizarre. And I was so thankful that Brendan could read the situation and the ratty, unreliable bike well enough to get us out of dodge. What the HELL was THAT?!?!
We carried on home, shaking off the Children of the Corn encounter, and happily bumping along knowing that the creepy village was thankfully, nothing more than a new story to tell, which of course, we did. After telling the story and asking questions upon our return, we discovered that we had stumbled into an area that most people in Pemba choose to avoid. To backtrack just a little bit, Pemba is the hotspot of lowdown, nitty gritty, real live witchcraft. People come from all over the world to practice, learn, and become masters of the trade. There are dark, dark spirits here (no pun intended!) We apparently wandered into a very impoverished, suspicious of all, uneducated, incestuous, backwoods, backwards, witchcraft town. Disturbed people? Definitely. Unsafe? Who knew? We obviously didn’t. It’s hard to know if anything would have happened if we would have stopped or if we had responded differently but I’m okay to leave it at we got through, we got out, it’s all good. I said I wanted adventure, I am finding it in small bits and pieces.
My days continue to be fairly monotonous for the most part and are slipping quickly away. I avoid the spoiled, angry child when he is fuming and am getting better at reading the moods. I have been going for walks / small runs past the village into the nearby forest and that has been an experience unto itself as well. The children in our nearest village are so misbehaved and so uncharacteristically rude that I have learned key phrases in Swahili to shout as them as I pass by to prevent myself from picking up rocks and chucking them instead. I know, I know, they are children, but BELIEVE me… it’s really bad. Even before I can see them, they have somehow spotted me and it starts. One group will start screaming, and I mean screaming at the top of their possessed little lungs… MUZUUUUNNNNNGGGUUUUU!!! BAAAAA-BYYYYYYYYYEEEEE!!! BAAAAA-BYYYYYYYEEEEE!!!! (that's bye-bye. no clue why they scream bye-bye instead of hello). For the first little while, I’d answer back or give a little wave but this encouraged them to escalate to running across the fields or roads to jump in front of me, run beside or behind me, all the while screaming as loudly as they can. They’ve grabbed at my elbows and hands, they’ve tried to cut me off, they’ve made rude gestures and mocked me, all the while shouting and screaming and being little terrors. Never in a millions years would they ever treat an elder of their own in this way. Never. These cultures are very much about respect. But for some reason here, with me, I have become a game for them. I’ve spoken to a few of the staff members about it and they gave me some advice and reassured me that I am not over-reacting. They see white people all the time being so close to the dive resorts so it’s not a novelty for them. It’s a really disappointing situation because it makes me not want to go anywhere near the village or have anything to do with the people. I will continue to ignore and outrun them throwing out the occasional tongue lashing when needed but wow, I’m losing my mind stuck on the this plot and I’m losing my mind when I leave. What a mess!!!
AND!!! We lost wireless internet a couple of weeks ago and this has left me without access to a computer because the connections are either being used for work or by the guests. I have become thoroughly disconnected. Hence, no status updates, responses to emails or continued blogging. So for now, I will try to get better with writing as much as I can offline so that I can just simply post the new blog and keep everyone informed. This one has taken me over a week and a half to finish. Things continue to be rough but I am finding my way. Mac has been too busy to do much of anything, guests have been few but they quickly become my new best friends when they do arrive, I’ve been diving when I can, and Brendan and I have been hanging out much more as we’re the only ones left. He helps me keep it all in perspective and that laid back cool guy attitude reminds me that seriously, this is only temporary, find the good stuff. And yes, there is good stuff. The diving, the happy students (sometimes), the ever increasing control over spiders ruining my life, the confirmation that I don’t need to live with much at all to live well, and the growing confidence that wherever I end up, I can usually figure it out and be absolutely okay. I’m so sorry I haven’t been keeping in touch, but yes, I will try to do better. Thank you for the concern and for the continued interest in me and my life. I miss you all and love you more. Talk to you soon. xoxo
Where to start? Oh! I know! A mini motor scooter trip. As things have slowed down a bit here, some of us have had more a chance to have a bit of time off and do a few things. That can translate into a nice long sleep in, maybe cutting the day short and hitting the pool (it’s a little one, but it is magical in this heat), a nice long midday nap, or finding a few hours to get off this plot. One afternoon, Brendan and I took off on a scooter that we rented off of a staff member (and it was a proper little scooter barely room for two. SO funny!) to see what we could see around this place. I think I mentioned that he has been travelling Africa first by bicycle then by motorbike for the past several months so despite the sand and dirt roads with sink holes and speed ditches (not bumps!), the broken up bits of concrete road riddled with massive tree roots and wild African foliage, and the very occasional flat smooth tarmac, I trusted him as our driver. We kinda sorta took a look at a map and a general direction of where we wanted to head and set out. It was quickly apparent that road signs and maps are absolutely useless here. Just random pieces of art or graffiti actually, no true sense of direction or traveler’s assistance. We decided to follow roads as they popped up and see where we ended up.
As most of my teeth rattled out of my head, I was reminded of how much I LOVE seeing the world on the back of a bike. Through the forest or dusty, dried fields, on main roads dodging bicycles, cows, chickens, and children, through back dirt paths and village clearings barely wide enough to walk on… I have missed it so much. Seeing the stares and the waves as we stumbled and bumbled our way around was pretty funny. In villages big and small, everyone had a “hello!” or a Swahili greeting to welcome us to places that very rarely see white faces. It’s really hard to talk about or even begin to describe the poverty here because sadly, it becomes something that I’ve just become accustomed to seeing. The houses are basic and bare mud huts with hanging strings of thatched roofing, you know that the tattered rags or scraps of clothing people are wearing are very likely their only pieces of clothing, and the bare, wide, flat feet of SE Asia are nothing compared to the hooves and paddles on the people here as many don’t own or simply don’t wear shoes. They have little but remain happy, gracious, and inviting. This is Africa, folks.
Something I’ve noticed more as a generalization than anything, is fairly distinct body shaping. For the most part, there are two body types of men. They are either teeny, tiny rail thin lads that are most likely tough as nails but look like you could send them sailing with a good solid breeze, or they are granite blocks. There are quite a few quarries and physical labour jobs around here so the demands of the work has created these muscular oxen that look as if their days are spent in the local gym. Tough, tough, tough. And then there are the ladies. The only teeny tinies I have seen are the old mamas hobbling around, tending to this and that, while they care for great, great grandchildren running wild amongst the tethered goats and free range fowl. Otherwise, these girls got back!! Big ole bums and little waists wrapped in their kangas, with a set of boobs to balance out the booty. It’s amazing. Poverty or not, these girls are bouncing along as they travel from one hut to the next. Not tall girls, not fat girls, just booty girls. They are beautiful!!! The kidlets all seem to be quite thin and of course there are those that are malnourished and obviously very unwell, but somewhere in all of that doom and gloom, the kids seem very, very happy. Making do with nothing, just like I’ve seen before, and it makes me embarrassed for the over-indulgence of our culture. Resiliency is an entirely different concept here. Not only do they survive, they find joy and laughter despite the struggle. My life has been very, very good and very, very easy.
So yes, we sputtered and puttered along seeing some amazing out of the ordinary places and meeting some amazing and out of the ordinary people. At one point, we ended up driving through this interesting little village and what looked like well-worn footpaths through a maze of houses placed tightly together. Out of nowhere, this exceptionally happy man popped out and started shouting and pointing “Beach-i! Beach-i!” Ummmm…, sure, let’s find a beach. So we vroomed along in the general direction that he was pointing and I about fell of the back of the bike when I looked back and saw that this grown man was running along behind us, continuing to point and laugh and gesture animatedly. I let Brendan know that we had our own village idiot personal escort and we didn’t have a chance to lose him as the path was so rocky and rough in parts that he was able to catch up to us and walk, bounce, and giggle along side. A very nice man, but obviously a little soft in the smarts department.
Regardless of his mental standing, we ended up at this beautiful little harbor spot. No beach, but a few boats and eventually, many children. Village idiot was trying to point out where you would end up if you went this way or that way and I smiled and nodded, not really sure what he was going on about but I didn’t want to burst his happy bubble. I left Brendan so he could take some photos and wandered around a little bit in the open farmer’s field that was just up from the waterfront. Random cows tied here and there in, dry, dusty fields giving me much the same looks as the locals do, wondering who the heck are you and what the HELL are you doing here???, lots of hot, hot sun, and wide open Africa. Then I heard the chittering, chattering. I made my way back down to where we had left the scooter, I mean BIKE, very cool, very hip, very gangsta BIKE, and saw the children starting to come from here and there across this wide open field. All of them hesitant but wonderfully curious. No screaming or yelling or charging towards us, just these beautiful little coffee coloured waifs floating and drifting ever so much closer to where we happened to be. There’s always a brave one in the crowd who can get the interaction started and all it took was me finding the one who could make eye contact, putting my hand up and out for a high five, and he was mine. I begged Brendan to let me take a couple of them home. I was in love.
Kneeling in front of him and clapping our hands, I was able to get three more of the sweetest little bravehearts to stay with me and play for a bit. There were many others who lingered just outside of the play zone, watching but not sure of me and my intentions but that was okay, I had four Swahili babies giving me their full attention and my heart was so very happy. Brendan took a bunch of photos while I just tried not to munch on these darlings, all of them maybe between 5 and 7 years old. Absolutely edible. I’ll try to post a few pics on facebook. So we stayed and played, then continued on our journey.
We found another random road that took us to yet another random place, and this time, to what seemed to be a bigger, much more densely populated village. As we neared the outskirts, there were the usual greetings and hellos, but as we rounded a corner and came into what appeared to be the centre of town, children started pouring out of houses and stores, running into the main dirt road and after us, all yelling and screaming what we initially thought were greetings. They were running fast, but we had wheels and Brendan had the good sense not to stop. When I looked back over my shoulder, the road was choked with at least 50 children of all ages and sizes, yelling and chasing us at full speed. I laughed in spite of the hair on the back of my neck starting to stand up. We cleared town and soon realized that we were on a only- one-way- out road. The people on this smaller dirt road that was lined with quarries and quarry workers looked as if it would eventually lead to a beach but the sun was starting to set and we didn’t really know where we were. We turned the bike around and steeled ourselves for the trip back. Neither of us said anything about how we felt going through the crowded town the first time but as we neared town again, nothing needed to be said. People had lined the road, knowing and waiting for us to come back through. It was mostly children and the numbers had grown immensely but I could also see adults behind the throngs of smaller faces or looking out of partly shaded windows. As we approached, Brendan kept it straight and speedy as the kids closed in and the shouting became a chant. I saw puzzled faces, angry faces, hyped up mob mentality faces, and rocks, shells, and other random things being clutched in the hands of those who had not yet joined in on the frantic chase. In the time that we had been away, they had worked themselves up to such a frenzied state that they were no longer friendly, they had become a running, screaming, chanting mob. When a fist full of gravel and small stones hit my face, I silently urged Brendan to urge the scooter a little faster and no one dared step in front of the bike. We were chased, the chanting of a word we have yet to translate being shouted at an eerie fevered pitch and we focused on just getting out of town. This was not the friendly Swahili folk we had come to know and love. It was very, very bizarre. And I was so thankful that Brendan could read the situation and the ratty, unreliable bike well enough to get us out of dodge. What the HELL was THAT?!?!
We carried on home, shaking off the Children of the Corn encounter, and happily bumping along knowing that the creepy village was thankfully, nothing more than a new story to tell, which of course, we did. After telling the story and asking questions upon our return, we discovered that we had stumbled into an area that most people in Pemba choose to avoid. To backtrack just a little bit, Pemba is the hotspot of lowdown, nitty gritty, real live witchcraft. People come from all over the world to practice, learn, and become masters of the trade. There are dark, dark spirits here (no pun intended!) We apparently wandered into a very impoverished, suspicious of all, uneducated, incestuous, backwoods, backwards, witchcraft town. Disturbed people? Definitely. Unsafe? Who knew? We obviously didn’t. It’s hard to know if anything would have happened if we would have stopped or if we had responded differently but I’m okay to leave it at we got through, we got out, it’s all good. I said I wanted adventure, I am finding it in small bits and pieces.
My days continue to be fairly monotonous for the most part and are slipping quickly away. I avoid the spoiled, angry child when he is fuming and am getting better at reading the moods. I have been going for walks / small runs past the village into the nearby forest and that has been an experience unto itself as well. The children in our nearest village are so misbehaved and so uncharacteristically rude that I have learned key phrases in Swahili to shout as them as I pass by to prevent myself from picking up rocks and chucking them instead. I know, I know, they are children, but BELIEVE me… it’s really bad. Even before I can see them, they have somehow spotted me and it starts. One group will start screaming, and I mean screaming at the top of their possessed little lungs… MUZUUUUNNNNNGGGUUUUU!!! BAAAAA-BYYYYYYYYYEEEEE!!! BAAAAA-BYYYYYYYEEEEE!!!! (that's bye-bye. no clue why they scream bye-bye instead of hello). For the first little while, I’d answer back or give a little wave but this encouraged them to escalate to running across the fields or roads to jump in front of me, run beside or behind me, all the while screaming as loudly as they can. They’ve grabbed at my elbows and hands, they’ve tried to cut me off, they’ve made rude gestures and mocked me, all the while shouting and screaming and being little terrors. Never in a millions years would they ever treat an elder of their own in this way. Never. These cultures are very much about respect. But for some reason here, with me, I have become a game for them. I’ve spoken to a few of the staff members about it and they gave me some advice and reassured me that I am not over-reacting. They see white people all the time being so close to the dive resorts so it’s not a novelty for them. It’s a really disappointing situation because it makes me not want to go anywhere near the village or have anything to do with the people. I will continue to ignore and outrun them throwing out the occasional tongue lashing when needed but wow, I’m losing my mind stuck on the this plot and I’m losing my mind when I leave. What a mess!!!
AND!!! We lost wireless internet a couple of weeks ago and this has left me without access to a computer because the connections are either being used for work or by the guests. I have become thoroughly disconnected. Hence, no status updates, responses to emails or continued blogging. So for now, I will try to get better with writing as much as I can offline so that I can just simply post the new blog and keep everyone informed. This one has taken me over a week and a half to finish. Things continue to be rough but I am finding my way. Mac has been too busy to do much of anything, guests have been few but they quickly become my new best friends when they do arrive, I’ve been diving when I can, and Brendan and I have been hanging out much more as we’re the only ones left. He helps me keep it all in perspective and that laid back cool guy attitude reminds me that seriously, this is only temporary, find the good stuff. And yes, there is good stuff. The diving, the happy students (sometimes), the ever increasing control over spiders ruining my life, the confirmation that I don’t need to live with much at all to live well, and the growing confidence that wherever I end up, I can usually figure it out and be absolutely okay. I’m so sorry I haven’t been keeping in touch, but yes, I will try to do better. Thank you for the concern and for the continued interest in me and my life. I miss you all and love you more. Talk to you soon. xoxo
You found me... nicely done!
Welcome to those of you whose curiosity was peaked enough to follow me to this new and pseudonym – ed blogsite. I made the mistake of accepting my place of employment, here on out referred to as… hmmm… TTC (temper tantrum central) on my facebook, and have received nothing but criticism after correction after clarification following each and every entry. Regardless of how neutral or kind I have tried to be, I have been condemned to grief and condescending commentary. That and the fact that I have been experiencing some rather significant personality conflict issues with the owner leaves me with no other option than to air my dirty laundry under cover. I have NO ONE to talk to about this! You, my secret blog readers, are it. And recently the rage is seething and boiling just below the barely pulled together surface grin that I am trying to pass off as a smile.
Being the outsider here allows me to stand back and watch. Watch how people interact. Watch how the staff interact with the guests, the staff interact with each other, the big guns interact with the little guns and how it all fits together. To say that the levels of maladjustment and arrogance are suffocating, well, now that wouldn’t be very nice, would it? So I won’t say it, I’ll just think it, quietly, and write. For the two months that I have been here, the owners have been here for about a month of it as they have travel and other obligations. I’ve had a chance to see the local staff interact with each other and us mzungus as the general atmosphere of the place swings from one extreme to the next depending on who is stomping around the grounds.
Now, from the owners’ point of view, they feel that OF COURSE there is more stress when they are around because nothing gets done, we f**k off, do nothing, and f**k everything up when they are away (direct quotes by the way) so they spend all of their time here picking up the pieces. Ummm… okay. Surprisingly enough, the resort continues to operate, guests come and go, all seem to be very happy, and nothing has imploded as long as I’ve been here. Well, the generator has stuttered and stopped a few times, we ran out of things here and there but believe it or not, Mac was able to get it all sorted out without major meltdown. There’s just no way to describe the bizarre way things operate here and how NASTY people can be to each other. Okay wait, let me rephrase that, how nasty one or two people can to be to the rest of us. When the owners are around, everyone tiptoes very quietly and tries desperately to stay out of their line of vision. As of the last few days, I am included in the duck and run. Not good.
I’ve been trying to figure out what exactly it is that I struggle with so much in terms of the personal interaction. There are a few key traits that have set me off and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to recover and simply accept them as the way the business is run. The list is as follows, you tell me what you think…
1. Name calling. When you are frustrated, angry, tired, put off, busy, moody, or whatever the case may be and you’re dealing with people, calling them names, to their faces or behind their backs as you cut them up to whomever is listening, makes for poor presentation. A common combination of “stupid” and a random curse word is usually the beginning of the rant. There have been a few incidents that I’ve witnessed that have left me open-mouthed and speechless. How can you speak to or about someone like that?! Wow. It makes me shudder.
2. In conjunction with the name calling is the shouting. Not the simple raised voice, I’m getting kinda pissed here, but the full on roar that guests overhear and anyone really who may be in the general vicinity of a few thousand miles. Shouting about how stupid they think someone is, in English or Swahili carries on to ripping strips off the cowering and nodding victim cornered by their present state of rage. It blows in and quickly blows out but it shatters any sense of peace and harmony that was previously intact.
3. Creating problems that they feel need to be discussed, addressed, resolved, discussed, addressed, and around and around OUT. OF. NOTHING. If there is a random comment made or “someone” just happens to be in a mood, it can quickly turn into a huge deal that again, just leaves me standing, jaw dropped. If the mood is good, a sarcastic comment made gets a good laugh and the day carries on, if there was pee in someone’s cornflakes and we haven’t taken note of the brooding black cloud circling the growling head, there is usually silence, a meeting called, and then a talking to. What happened with Max and B was a bad situation turned disaster by decisions made on impulse and reactivity, strong emotional reactivity. What has happened to me was the same. They react without thinking, sometimes try to dig themselves back out, but mostly just carry on making things worse and worse. Shall I illustrate with a couple of personal cases? I think I shall…
As has been mentioned in previous rants and raves, I was asked and then naturally took over some of the general day to day tasks. I am usually the first one down in the mornings so I would get the housekeeping staff and sometimes the kitchen sorted out. This carried on throughout the day. I managed to complete all of my teaching and it worked in nicely with the staff getting to practice their English by asking me for room keys, toiletries, foods, etc. Most evenings, I was asked if I would either help out by tending bar (which was essentially standing behind the bar chit-chatting and handing off the occasional beer) or taking dinner orders if we were busy. Sure. No problem. Been doing it for 20 years, I love it. Guests would ask me things throughout the day as I was often the only one around so I would take care of them, guests needed things from the office so I would get it. I didn’t mind, it was quite good puttering around, needs were being met, people seemed happy. And yes, teaching was still being done.
After the owners returned from their almost three weeks away and the drama was unfolding with the dive team, the first two days back, I did no teaching as the owners were on a mission to straighten this whole place out. There was nothing to be straightened out but the delusionary mania was on whirlwind setting. I was assigned to various housekeeping tasks, inventoried rooms and supplies, set up rooms, sorted things out and a variety of other chores. I ran around like a madwoman, being laughed at for how much I was sweating my balls off (I must have really sweat them off because I checked and nope, I don’t have any) and was fine with this knowing that it was short lived and I would be straight back to teaching, which I was. Max and B were gone within what? Four days of the owners return? I’m pretty sure it was four. The first two days, I was doing as I just described then on with the teaching. On the day following their departure, I was pulled aside and given a talking to about my place here at the resort. I am here to teach and teach only. I am not to be doing anything other than teaching. This went on and on. In my head, I am seeing lists of things that they requested of me since I’ve arrived and more recently upon their return and all of the work I was assigned to, non-teaching related, of course. And I am of course muttering to myself a very bewildered WTF?! Okay, fine, fine. Teaching it is. No problem. So as guests and staff continued to come to me for various items and I advised them that I was no longer able to help, I saw time being wasted and people getting frustrated at an empty office and needs not being met. Not my problem. This is the way things run in Africa.
Yes, this is a long story… bear with me… I’m getting there.
So a couple of times over the last two months, various guests have chatted with me and asked me why I’m not in hospitality as opposed to teaching, suggesting that I look into jobs in big hotels. Seems to fit, have done some type of hospitality job for the last 20 years, maybe this is what I’ve been looking for? I’ve gotten a few email addresses and made a few contacts. Really, just networking, no big deal.
This past week, a lovely couple who live in Zanzibar, acquaintances of the owners, came to stay for a bit. Somewhere along the line, a similar conversation was struck up. As the couple was preparing to depart, the wife had requested my email address, which I had given her, and as she handed it over to her husband, the owner joined us and asked why they would possibly need my contact info. I told him that they knew of a place that was looking to hire and the couple was going to try to help me out for when my time is up here. I saw the black cloud gathering and I bid my farewells quickly.
I kid you not, within 5 mins of the couple leaving the car park, the Mac's cell phone rang, he was summoned to the owners’ house for a meeting, and I knew something was coming. Couldn’t really be sure what it was, but knew the miserable crotch was about to embark on a rampage. In the middle of a class, at 9:44am, I was ordered into the office and my students were instructed to wait at the table. For the next 35 mins I was told that they were concerned as I am not meeting their teaching expectations. Ohhhhhh…. Ooookkaaaaaay. That’s the angle were taking here, is it? Okay. Continue…
So it went on and on, them telling me that they were concerned that I was feeling that there wasn’t enough to keep me busy so I was taking over tasks that were not my place to take over and in turn I wasn’t teaching. I offered them the log I’ve been keeping since my arrival of who and when I have been teaching but funny enough, they weren’t interested in seeing it. This then turned into a conversation about me thinking about a job in hospitality and what a “stupid” idea that is (that lovely word again). They know that I’ve was considering applying for other teaching positions and I was asked what happened to this plan. I said that I was just keeping my options open, looking at all kinds of possibilities as I’m not really sure what I want. WELL! I was informed that I would never get a job in hospitality as I’m not qualified and even if I managed to get a job I would get jacked around and be miserable and heaven forbid I actually manage to land a decent job that I enjoyed, it would still be a bad idea because working in hospitality is a lowly, “dishonourable” job. ***sigh*** okay, okay, okay. What can I say at this point? What is there to say?
I was told to “spit it out” – am I happy here or not?! I told them I was (what choice did I have?) They would find me other jobs to keep me busy if I need to keep busy to stay happy and they want to see more teaching. (sorry, sticking to my 4 hrs a day, thank you very much). When they are gone for 3 weeks and then spend their days from 8:30am until 2:30pm on the dive boat, of course they don’t see me teaching – they’re not here!!! I continued to smile and nod, yessir, yessir all the while trying to figure out when the next flight out is. I knew that once the girls left I would be the next target, I just hadn’t quite worked out what the angle would be. This was the angle. And the game was on.
I returned to my waiting students at 10:22am. They were hanging their heads for me as they were directed by the owner not to move so they were witness to the ridiculousness. They’ve encountered their own ranting rages so the looks of empathy were quite funny. I pulled a face at them, the tension cracked, and we carried on. In the back of my mind, I was wishing that my Swahili included words like “asshole” “douche bag” and “loud mouth”. I’m working on adding them to my vocabulary.
This entry has actually taken several days and several editions to get to this PG-rated version. The day of the scolding and the day after, the owner was a complete prick to me. Wouldn’t talk to me except to snarl a random order of “do this” or “do that”. The final kick to the teeth was the night after the loving and motivational speech, a bunch of guests, Anya, and Brendan were all heading out to the beach to watch the sunset and I was invited to go. I was approached by Mac at my room just before we all were to head out and asked “Ummm… were you planning to go with them?” “Well, kinda. Why, what do you need?” “Ummmm… the owners (insert names here) invited me to go with them and their buddies to another resort for drinks” “Okay, so go.” “Well, we kinda need someone to watch the place while we’re all out” “Sorry, pardon?” “Well, there won’t really be anything to do, but just in case someone needed something, you know what to do.”
My head almost exploded. So one effin day after I got the speech to stay the hell away from any kind of resort work, that hospitality work is not in my future, that I need to focus on teaching and only teaching and I am not to represent the resort in any way, I am asked to stay behind and watch the place. AND THEN! I found out later from Brendan that HE was invited too but decided not to go. All of the “staff” were invited to leave the resort to go to another resort for drinks and I was asked to stay behind, to watch the place and the remaining guests. A case of cool kid syndrome taken to a whole new level.
I could have been a complete bitch and said no. Sorry, I’m going where I was invited and really, it’s out of the realm of my responsibilities but the only one who would have suffered at that point would have been Mac. He seemed so excited to be included in the cool kid party that it just didn’t make sense to complicate things for him. But this, my dear friends, is the kind of bullshit that has brought out violent and revenge filled tendencies. Back and forth, do this but only when it’s convenient for me, arrogance and complete disregard for anyone or anything beyond the end of their nose. And the arrogance is so complete that there is no possibility of even discussing the inconsistency of their expectations of me as they know all, they say all, the logic is modified to fit their current need or state of mind, and we’re all a bunch of effin idiots. It’s absolutely fascinating. A couple of guests who are aware that I’m not allowed to function In any kind of resort capacity were asking me why everyone was away, why I was watching the shop while everyone was away but couldn’t even get them a roll of toilet paper, and what exactly my role was supposed to be. How do I answer that? Seriously. I’m looking for suggestions. Besides a big ole F.U., I’m running out of words right now.
But two days have passed since then and I’m now out of the doghouse and being spoken to and joked with throughout the day. I keep my responses brief and busily stay out of sight. It’s just ridiculous. OH! Did I tell you my birthday greeting from Mr. Owner? “Oh hello, it’s your birthday. “ “Yes, it is.” “How old are you now, then?” “36” “Oh shit, well there goes any chance of you ever having a family, eh?” “Thank you. I’m going diving.” Who says stuff like that?!?!
ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!! Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Guest after guest has made comment about what an overwhelming, obnoxious, socially inept, arrogant, and abrasive know-it-all he is but they can walk away after their week long holiday. I have nowhere to go. I’m trapped. Actually, that’s a good way to sum it all up – I am trapped. Trapped on this twilight zone resort where it is white king supremacy inside the gates and dusty, devastated, in the middle of nowhere wild Africa just down the road. Can you imagine going to one of those nice all inclusive resorts and never leaving the property? Now imagine it being a not-so-nice resort and not leaving for TWO MONTHS!!! Besides my daily walks / runs in the morning and a couple of quick trips in the car, I have not left the property. Oh dear GAWD I am on my way to the nuthouse. Certified. Done.
Okay. Okay. Okay. It’s over. It’s all okay. I feel better. I’m okay. ***WHEW!*** I’m going to be just fine. The majority of this is all from the fact that there is no one I can talk to. Mac and I get along really well and are each other’s shoulder to cry on, but I’m still very guarded as his loyalty needs to be with his employer and I don’t ever want him to feel stuck in the middle. This entry has been the first real opportunity to let it all out and wow, you all have suffered the consequences. There’s so much more I could talk about, like how I get emails from the friend of the owner who recruited me, whom I have never met but the owner apparently confides in, commenting on what is happening here and my role in it (who are you and seriously, you aren’t even here!), how it costs the owner $300 a month just to have me here, how the physical conditions I am living in continue to deteriorate but this makes me high maintenance, and that I’m supposed to get two days off a week but haven’t taken them because when I ask for them, I get the eye roll and the “really? Well, I guess if you need one but it shouldn’t interfere with your teaching” response. Oh. Okay then. Never mind. I’d love to continue to volunteer teach for six straight months and never leave the plot. It sounds absolutely DREAMY!!! Oops. Sorry. Got caught up in it again. That really was the last of it. I promise.
But as I’ve said before, as the storm blows in, it always blows out, and in the space of me writing this over a few days, I have gone from a useless twat to the best thing that has ever happened to this place. He has been chatting up guests, telling them how much the staff have improved in their English, I was invited on a friends only dive trip, to help out as a DM but who cares?! (turned out to be freaking spectacular!) he has been laughing and joking, being his regular charming and story-telling self, having regular conversations with me as all is now good in his world. It’s full on bizarro. Bi-zarr-O!!! So as the eggshells have hardened and the tiptoes fall to flat feet, all of us around the plot have loosened up a tad but senses remain on high alert as there’s no telling when the next typhoon and all of its accompanying damage will blow through.
Because of all that has been written thus far, you now understand why I’ve had to go incognito to continue my writings. And you have to admit, it’s a little more fun to bear witness to my emotional meltdowns rather than the simple, newsworthy reporting that was happening just previous to the blog diversion. I am feeling MUCH better now that I’ve had a chance to sort it all out for you and as always, I am able to gain perspective and put my head back on straight once I’ve had a chance to let it all out. Not entirely sure how long I will stay, depends on the day and how well I am at controlling my impulses when the next bit of rage is directed my way.
I am currently trying to look at the positives in my present day boss as the thunder cloud has dispersed and I can look back at this and try to see both sides to it all. He can be exceptionally funny and a wonderfully talented story teller when the mood strikes him, he can be generous to a fault as many of his friends come to stay and dive here in exchange for random bits of work around the plot, i.e., fixing some electrical glitches, getting the Land Rovers up and running, and various guests getting discounts on most things, he has been there and done that when it comes to most things so is full of random knowledge (this often contributes to his know-it-all-ness but still, some of it is useful), and he somewhere in there, he can be quite sensitive to those souls who need a little extra attention. Sadly, most of these qualities are lost as he stomps his way around the plot shouting orders and reliving the colonial settling of Africa directing all of us as if we are slaves. He is the poster child for adult ADD and has no filter when it comes to common manners or decency (he will often interrupt or walk away from a conversation whenever another thought compels him) so he comes off as an incredible asshole, stumbling bull in a china shop. He wakes with a roar and rips through the day upsetting everything in his path with inconsistent expectations and self-gratifying urges. He is, quite simply, an uncontained child running wild in his own playground. He comes from money and sees himself as quite hospitable but again, we all see ourselves in the softest of lights. Watching guests cringe as he publicly yells at and humiliates staff or shouts across the dining room to summon whoever he feels like is lost on him. He is the king. Loud, self-absorbed, and proud. When you are on his good side, he makes you feel over the moon as he pumps your ego to new and glorious heights just in time for him to smash it all to bits if you are caught in the midst of his nightmarish and devastating fist thumping. At this moment, I’ve been asked to watch the fort yet again as more friends leave and they head to the other resort for drinks. He acknowledged this time that he is taking advantage of me at least, but still, what choice to I have in the matter? Smile and nod, yessir, keep out of the way.
They are leaving for another 10 days and we all are waiting patiently. It will be so lovely and so peaceful and so quiet as we enjoy the calm then gear up to face another round of spewing, displaced anger upon their return. Now that I’ve caught everyone up on why I have been neglecting the blog, I will soon start writing about the humourous and charming tidbits that have been lost in all of the emotional chaos of the last month. This is obviously no longer a blog as it is nearing novel proportions but as I’ve said, now that the pent up devastation has been relieved, I will check in more often and keep the notes much more light. Thanks to all of you for letting me get all of this off my chest and please stay tuned for the regular scheduled programming. There is some funny s**t that happens here. Later taters!!!
Being the outsider here allows me to stand back and watch. Watch how people interact. Watch how the staff interact with the guests, the staff interact with each other, the big guns interact with the little guns and how it all fits together. To say that the levels of maladjustment and arrogance are suffocating, well, now that wouldn’t be very nice, would it? So I won’t say it, I’ll just think it, quietly, and write. For the two months that I have been here, the owners have been here for about a month of it as they have travel and other obligations. I’ve had a chance to see the local staff interact with each other and us mzungus as the general atmosphere of the place swings from one extreme to the next depending on who is stomping around the grounds.
Now, from the owners’ point of view, they feel that OF COURSE there is more stress when they are around because nothing gets done, we f**k off, do nothing, and f**k everything up when they are away (direct quotes by the way) so they spend all of their time here picking up the pieces. Ummm… okay. Surprisingly enough, the resort continues to operate, guests come and go, all seem to be very happy, and nothing has imploded as long as I’ve been here. Well, the generator has stuttered and stopped a few times, we ran out of things here and there but believe it or not, Mac was able to get it all sorted out without major meltdown. There’s just no way to describe the bizarre way things operate here and how NASTY people can be to each other. Okay wait, let me rephrase that, how nasty one or two people can to be to the rest of us. When the owners are around, everyone tiptoes very quietly and tries desperately to stay out of their line of vision. As of the last few days, I am included in the duck and run. Not good.
I’ve been trying to figure out what exactly it is that I struggle with so much in terms of the personal interaction. There are a few key traits that have set me off and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to recover and simply accept them as the way the business is run. The list is as follows, you tell me what you think…
1. Name calling. When you are frustrated, angry, tired, put off, busy, moody, or whatever the case may be and you’re dealing with people, calling them names, to their faces or behind their backs as you cut them up to whomever is listening, makes for poor presentation. A common combination of “stupid” and a random curse word is usually the beginning of the rant. There have been a few incidents that I’ve witnessed that have left me open-mouthed and speechless. How can you speak to or about someone like that?! Wow. It makes me shudder.
2. In conjunction with the name calling is the shouting. Not the simple raised voice, I’m getting kinda pissed here, but the full on roar that guests overhear and anyone really who may be in the general vicinity of a few thousand miles. Shouting about how stupid they think someone is, in English or Swahili carries on to ripping strips off the cowering and nodding victim cornered by their present state of rage. It blows in and quickly blows out but it shatters any sense of peace and harmony that was previously intact.
3. Creating problems that they feel need to be discussed, addressed, resolved, discussed, addressed, and around and around OUT. OF. NOTHING. If there is a random comment made or “someone” just happens to be in a mood, it can quickly turn into a huge deal that again, just leaves me standing, jaw dropped. If the mood is good, a sarcastic comment made gets a good laugh and the day carries on, if there was pee in someone’s cornflakes and we haven’t taken note of the brooding black cloud circling the growling head, there is usually silence, a meeting called, and then a talking to. What happened with Max and B was a bad situation turned disaster by decisions made on impulse and reactivity, strong emotional reactivity. What has happened to me was the same. They react without thinking, sometimes try to dig themselves back out, but mostly just carry on making things worse and worse. Shall I illustrate with a couple of personal cases? I think I shall…
As has been mentioned in previous rants and raves, I was asked and then naturally took over some of the general day to day tasks. I am usually the first one down in the mornings so I would get the housekeeping staff and sometimes the kitchen sorted out. This carried on throughout the day. I managed to complete all of my teaching and it worked in nicely with the staff getting to practice their English by asking me for room keys, toiletries, foods, etc. Most evenings, I was asked if I would either help out by tending bar (which was essentially standing behind the bar chit-chatting and handing off the occasional beer) or taking dinner orders if we were busy. Sure. No problem. Been doing it for 20 years, I love it. Guests would ask me things throughout the day as I was often the only one around so I would take care of them, guests needed things from the office so I would get it. I didn’t mind, it was quite good puttering around, needs were being met, people seemed happy. And yes, teaching was still being done.
After the owners returned from their almost three weeks away and the drama was unfolding with the dive team, the first two days back, I did no teaching as the owners were on a mission to straighten this whole place out. There was nothing to be straightened out but the delusionary mania was on whirlwind setting. I was assigned to various housekeeping tasks, inventoried rooms and supplies, set up rooms, sorted things out and a variety of other chores. I ran around like a madwoman, being laughed at for how much I was sweating my balls off (I must have really sweat them off because I checked and nope, I don’t have any) and was fine with this knowing that it was short lived and I would be straight back to teaching, which I was. Max and B were gone within what? Four days of the owners return? I’m pretty sure it was four. The first two days, I was doing as I just described then on with the teaching. On the day following their departure, I was pulled aside and given a talking to about my place here at the resort. I am here to teach and teach only. I am not to be doing anything other than teaching. This went on and on. In my head, I am seeing lists of things that they requested of me since I’ve arrived and more recently upon their return and all of the work I was assigned to, non-teaching related, of course. And I am of course muttering to myself a very bewildered WTF?! Okay, fine, fine. Teaching it is. No problem. So as guests and staff continued to come to me for various items and I advised them that I was no longer able to help, I saw time being wasted and people getting frustrated at an empty office and needs not being met. Not my problem. This is the way things run in Africa.
Yes, this is a long story… bear with me… I’m getting there.
So a couple of times over the last two months, various guests have chatted with me and asked me why I’m not in hospitality as opposed to teaching, suggesting that I look into jobs in big hotels. Seems to fit, have done some type of hospitality job for the last 20 years, maybe this is what I’ve been looking for? I’ve gotten a few email addresses and made a few contacts. Really, just networking, no big deal.
This past week, a lovely couple who live in Zanzibar, acquaintances of the owners, came to stay for a bit. Somewhere along the line, a similar conversation was struck up. As the couple was preparing to depart, the wife had requested my email address, which I had given her, and as she handed it over to her husband, the owner joined us and asked why they would possibly need my contact info. I told him that they knew of a place that was looking to hire and the couple was going to try to help me out for when my time is up here. I saw the black cloud gathering and I bid my farewells quickly.
I kid you not, within 5 mins of the couple leaving the car park, the Mac's cell phone rang, he was summoned to the owners’ house for a meeting, and I knew something was coming. Couldn’t really be sure what it was, but knew the miserable crotch was about to embark on a rampage. In the middle of a class, at 9:44am, I was ordered into the office and my students were instructed to wait at the table. For the next 35 mins I was told that they were concerned as I am not meeting their teaching expectations. Ohhhhhh…. Ooookkaaaaaay. That’s the angle were taking here, is it? Okay. Continue…
So it went on and on, them telling me that they were concerned that I was feeling that there wasn’t enough to keep me busy so I was taking over tasks that were not my place to take over and in turn I wasn’t teaching. I offered them the log I’ve been keeping since my arrival of who and when I have been teaching but funny enough, they weren’t interested in seeing it. This then turned into a conversation about me thinking about a job in hospitality and what a “stupid” idea that is (that lovely word again). They know that I’ve was considering applying for other teaching positions and I was asked what happened to this plan. I said that I was just keeping my options open, looking at all kinds of possibilities as I’m not really sure what I want. WELL! I was informed that I would never get a job in hospitality as I’m not qualified and even if I managed to get a job I would get jacked around and be miserable and heaven forbid I actually manage to land a decent job that I enjoyed, it would still be a bad idea because working in hospitality is a lowly, “dishonourable” job. ***sigh*** okay, okay, okay. What can I say at this point? What is there to say?
I was told to “spit it out” – am I happy here or not?! I told them I was (what choice did I have?) They would find me other jobs to keep me busy if I need to keep busy to stay happy and they want to see more teaching. (sorry, sticking to my 4 hrs a day, thank you very much). When they are gone for 3 weeks and then spend their days from 8:30am until 2:30pm on the dive boat, of course they don’t see me teaching – they’re not here!!! I continued to smile and nod, yessir, yessir all the while trying to figure out when the next flight out is. I knew that once the girls left I would be the next target, I just hadn’t quite worked out what the angle would be. This was the angle. And the game was on.
I returned to my waiting students at 10:22am. They were hanging their heads for me as they were directed by the owner not to move so they were witness to the ridiculousness. They’ve encountered their own ranting rages so the looks of empathy were quite funny. I pulled a face at them, the tension cracked, and we carried on. In the back of my mind, I was wishing that my Swahili included words like “asshole” “douche bag” and “loud mouth”. I’m working on adding them to my vocabulary.
This entry has actually taken several days and several editions to get to this PG-rated version. The day of the scolding and the day after, the owner was a complete prick to me. Wouldn’t talk to me except to snarl a random order of “do this” or “do that”. The final kick to the teeth was the night after the loving and motivational speech, a bunch of guests, Anya, and Brendan were all heading out to the beach to watch the sunset and I was invited to go. I was approached by Mac at my room just before we all were to head out and asked “Ummm… were you planning to go with them?” “Well, kinda. Why, what do you need?” “Ummmm… the owners (insert names here) invited me to go with them and their buddies to another resort for drinks” “Okay, so go.” “Well, we kinda need someone to watch the place while we’re all out” “Sorry, pardon?” “Well, there won’t really be anything to do, but just in case someone needed something, you know what to do.”
My head almost exploded. So one effin day after I got the speech to stay the hell away from any kind of resort work, that hospitality work is not in my future, that I need to focus on teaching and only teaching and I am not to represent the resort in any way, I am asked to stay behind and watch the place. AND THEN! I found out later from Brendan that HE was invited too but decided not to go. All of the “staff” were invited to leave the resort to go to another resort for drinks and I was asked to stay behind, to watch the place and the remaining guests. A case of cool kid syndrome taken to a whole new level.
I could have been a complete bitch and said no. Sorry, I’m going where I was invited and really, it’s out of the realm of my responsibilities but the only one who would have suffered at that point would have been Mac. He seemed so excited to be included in the cool kid party that it just didn’t make sense to complicate things for him. But this, my dear friends, is the kind of bullshit that has brought out violent and revenge filled tendencies. Back and forth, do this but only when it’s convenient for me, arrogance and complete disregard for anyone or anything beyond the end of their nose. And the arrogance is so complete that there is no possibility of even discussing the inconsistency of their expectations of me as they know all, they say all, the logic is modified to fit their current need or state of mind, and we’re all a bunch of effin idiots. It’s absolutely fascinating. A couple of guests who are aware that I’m not allowed to function In any kind of resort capacity were asking me why everyone was away, why I was watching the shop while everyone was away but couldn’t even get them a roll of toilet paper, and what exactly my role was supposed to be. How do I answer that? Seriously. I’m looking for suggestions. Besides a big ole F.U., I’m running out of words right now.
But two days have passed since then and I’m now out of the doghouse and being spoken to and joked with throughout the day. I keep my responses brief and busily stay out of sight. It’s just ridiculous. OH! Did I tell you my birthday greeting from Mr. Owner? “Oh hello, it’s your birthday. “ “Yes, it is.” “How old are you now, then?” “36” “Oh shit, well there goes any chance of you ever having a family, eh?” “Thank you. I’m going diving.” Who says stuff like that?!?!
ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!! Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Guest after guest has made comment about what an overwhelming, obnoxious, socially inept, arrogant, and abrasive know-it-all he is but they can walk away after their week long holiday. I have nowhere to go. I’m trapped. Actually, that’s a good way to sum it all up – I am trapped. Trapped on this twilight zone resort where it is white king supremacy inside the gates and dusty, devastated, in the middle of nowhere wild Africa just down the road. Can you imagine going to one of those nice all inclusive resorts and never leaving the property? Now imagine it being a not-so-nice resort and not leaving for TWO MONTHS!!! Besides my daily walks / runs in the morning and a couple of quick trips in the car, I have not left the property. Oh dear GAWD I am on my way to the nuthouse. Certified. Done.
Okay. Okay. Okay. It’s over. It’s all okay. I feel better. I’m okay. ***WHEW!*** I’m going to be just fine. The majority of this is all from the fact that there is no one I can talk to. Mac and I get along really well and are each other’s shoulder to cry on, but I’m still very guarded as his loyalty needs to be with his employer and I don’t ever want him to feel stuck in the middle. This entry has been the first real opportunity to let it all out and wow, you all have suffered the consequences. There’s so much more I could talk about, like how I get emails from the friend of the owner who recruited me, whom I have never met but the owner apparently confides in, commenting on what is happening here and my role in it (who are you and seriously, you aren’t even here!), how it costs the owner $300 a month just to have me here, how the physical conditions I am living in continue to deteriorate but this makes me high maintenance, and that I’m supposed to get two days off a week but haven’t taken them because when I ask for them, I get the eye roll and the “really? Well, I guess if you need one but it shouldn’t interfere with your teaching” response. Oh. Okay then. Never mind. I’d love to continue to volunteer teach for six straight months and never leave the plot. It sounds absolutely DREAMY!!! Oops. Sorry. Got caught up in it again. That really was the last of it. I promise.
But as I’ve said before, as the storm blows in, it always blows out, and in the space of me writing this over a few days, I have gone from a useless twat to the best thing that has ever happened to this place. He has been chatting up guests, telling them how much the staff have improved in their English, I was invited on a friends only dive trip, to help out as a DM but who cares?! (turned out to be freaking spectacular!) he has been laughing and joking, being his regular charming and story-telling self, having regular conversations with me as all is now good in his world. It’s full on bizarro. Bi-zarr-O!!! So as the eggshells have hardened and the tiptoes fall to flat feet, all of us around the plot have loosened up a tad but senses remain on high alert as there’s no telling when the next typhoon and all of its accompanying damage will blow through.
Because of all that has been written thus far, you now understand why I’ve had to go incognito to continue my writings. And you have to admit, it’s a little more fun to bear witness to my emotional meltdowns rather than the simple, newsworthy reporting that was happening just previous to the blog diversion. I am feeling MUCH better now that I’ve had a chance to sort it all out for you and as always, I am able to gain perspective and put my head back on straight once I’ve had a chance to let it all out. Not entirely sure how long I will stay, depends on the day and how well I am at controlling my impulses when the next bit of rage is directed my way.
I am currently trying to look at the positives in my present day boss as the thunder cloud has dispersed and I can look back at this and try to see both sides to it all. He can be exceptionally funny and a wonderfully talented story teller when the mood strikes him, he can be generous to a fault as many of his friends come to stay and dive here in exchange for random bits of work around the plot, i.e., fixing some electrical glitches, getting the Land Rovers up and running, and various guests getting discounts on most things, he has been there and done that when it comes to most things so is full of random knowledge (this often contributes to his know-it-all-ness but still, some of it is useful), and he somewhere in there, he can be quite sensitive to those souls who need a little extra attention. Sadly, most of these qualities are lost as he stomps his way around the plot shouting orders and reliving the colonial settling of Africa directing all of us as if we are slaves. He is the poster child for adult ADD and has no filter when it comes to common manners or decency (he will often interrupt or walk away from a conversation whenever another thought compels him) so he comes off as an incredible asshole, stumbling bull in a china shop. He wakes with a roar and rips through the day upsetting everything in his path with inconsistent expectations and self-gratifying urges. He is, quite simply, an uncontained child running wild in his own playground. He comes from money and sees himself as quite hospitable but again, we all see ourselves in the softest of lights. Watching guests cringe as he publicly yells at and humiliates staff or shouts across the dining room to summon whoever he feels like is lost on him. He is the king. Loud, self-absorbed, and proud. When you are on his good side, he makes you feel over the moon as he pumps your ego to new and glorious heights just in time for him to smash it all to bits if you are caught in the midst of his nightmarish and devastating fist thumping. At this moment, I’ve been asked to watch the fort yet again as more friends leave and they head to the other resort for drinks. He acknowledged this time that he is taking advantage of me at least, but still, what choice to I have in the matter? Smile and nod, yessir, keep out of the way.
They are leaving for another 10 days and we all are waiting patiently. It will be so lovely and so peaceful and so quiet as we enjoy the calm then gear up to face another round of spewing, displaced anger upon their return. Now that I’ve caught everyone up on why I have been neglecting the blog, I will soon start writing about the humourous and charming tidbits that have been lost in all of the emotional chaos of the last month. This is obviously no longer a blog as it is nearing novel proportions but as I’ve said, now that the pent up devastation has been relieved, I will check in more often and keep the notes much more light. Thanks to all of you for letting me get all of this off my chest and please stay tuned for the regular scheduled programming. There is some funny s**t that happens here. Later taters!!!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Last one...
So very long since my last entry and I'm not sure where to start. It has been intense, emotional, chaotic, confusing and a bit of a mad house. I've had days where I ran around like a loon with the general day to day of this place, days of teaching where we celebrated successes big and small, and days where I had decided that enough is enough and I'm outta here. Writing now that time has passed will be a very different commentary than if I had written during the moment. I chose not to write over the last little while knowing that the feelings and frustrations would eventually pass and any words that I wrote under duress or during emotional turmoil would be bitter pills to swallow in days to come. Give it time, give it time, give it time. And so I have. Grab a drink, take a seat, and settle in. Here is the current state of affairs...
After much drama, the present population consists of Raf and Cisca (they returned from almost three weeks away), Mac, Brendan, Anya, and myself. Add two, minus three as you can see. I don't know what to say, how it all began, or how it all unraveled but in the process, many feelings were hurt, relationships were damaged, and there have been several unforeseeable changes in plans. It has been said throughout history and many times over these past few days... there are three sides to every story, your side, their side and the real one somewhere in the middle. I have tried very hard to stay somewhere in the middle. Most likely pissing off everyone in the process as it is when there is conflict. Frustratingly enough you are often expected to choose a side. It's usually not a direct "whose side are you on? (mind you, sometimes it is), but is more often a "what is your honest opinion?" Again, I did my best to offer a neutral opinion and steer middle of the road. What has taken place over the past couple of weeks does not involve me directly but when you're on a small island within this even smaller world, everything eventually affects everyone, doesn't it? Yes, it does indeed.
Hmmm... try to summarize...
Two relationships in the midst of two teachers and two students doing pretty tough courses... recipe for disaster really. And so it was.
There were daily battles of someone or two or three or four feeling that the other one or ones weren't doing their fair share of work, getting their fair share of teaching attention, that people were being treated unprofessionally or unfairly, that toes were getting stepped on, steps were being missed, romances were complicating issues, teaching opportunities were being delayed by health concerns or lack of preparation, feelings were getting hurt, this one didn't know what that one was doing, and on and on and on. Squabbles, melt downs, tears, temper tantrums, avoidance, denial, attempts to reconcile issues going awry and making matters worse... ***sigh*** Several times I made it pretty clear that junior high was long behind all of us and it needed to stay that way but a course had been set and on it went. Regular counselling sessions where again, I attempted to listen and offer some possible solutions to immediate concerns, but mostly I just listened. Listened to how frustrated this one was with that one, how hurt this one's feelings were because of that one's actions, how angry this one was or how done that one was or how exhausted this one was or how childish that one was... my heart broke for all of them and solutions were few and far between. Once the tensions were there, the path of least resistance was for them to escalate, naturally. Initially it appeared two against two, then three against one and it was this three against one that led to our current situation. All four chose to speak to me about various frustrations and I could agree with all four of them on several different points but I couldn't take sides. I could see one point of view more strongly in a certain situation but differently in another situation. There were some days where I did "take a side" by agreeing with a the way a current situation was handled but I couldn't act on it. Middle of the road, support everyone, stay out of it as best as I can. I am not the dive team but I liked these people, I like all of these people, I wasn’t part of their battles, but it was so hard not to be.
Mine, yours, and the reality. Some days I wanted to shake all four of them, some days I avoided all four of them, some days I wanted to hug all four of them and force them work it out so we could all just hang out and go back to the way it first was. But it wasn't my fight or my place to fix it. I could see them all getting more and more exhausted; worn down by the physical demands of the courses and the emotional drain of Swahili soap opera. So hard to watch and so sad to see hearts getting hurt and feelings being trampled. How on earth do we make this okay? It had gotten far beyond that point very, very quickly.
Mac and I chatted often about the regular state of affairs - he now being my saving grace and last shred of sanity. (and no, there is no jiggy jiggy going on) There were days where he wanted to sack all of them and days where he thought it was best to let them work it out amongst themselves. He made guided them and reminded them that they had a job to do, divers were to be diving and the show was to be running. They had to work it out. There are a million different things to do around this place on a daily basis, dealing with staff conflicts every day is not an option. We often shook our heads together and did what we could to remain neutral but supportive. Open but non-judgemental. Whether or not this was the best way to address it is not my call to make. There have been conversations that have followed the last few days' chain of events that have swayed to the contrary - that staff issues should be dealt with swiftly and firmly. Hindsight always rings clear as a bell, doesn't it? We did the best we could and sadly, it maybe wasn't enough.
R & C returned, refreshed, renewed, and full of vision for their destination resort of Pemba. Greeting them upon their return is the brewing cyclone of dive team devastation. In the span of two quick days that involved some decisions made in haste, conversations had in more haste, time to think and rethink, negotiations and renegotiations, and finally a decision that some agree with and some don't. Maxine and Bertha no longer work for Swahili Divers and Rachel's time here was wrapping up as she was moving on to spend the last week of her year long trip elsewhere. Raf acknowledges that Maxine is a superb instructor with excellent skills. He encouraged her to take a brief holiday then consider signing a contract with him for two years wherein he would groom her to be a dive resort manager. She is 21 and years beyond in her ability and her maturity in this nature. The condition to this offer being, however, that Bertha was not to be part of the deal. Raf, I believe, feels that at this point, B. is not well enough to complete the courses she attempted and there has been some conflict that cannot be remedied hence making it too uncomfortable to have all of them here together. So, an ultimatum was put forth,,, career or relationship. I don't know many who, at 21, would not choose their relationship. Max gave her notice. There were some feelings hurt as at some point, Max was to come back and serve out her two weeks notice on her own, (which she wanted to do as it would give her time to put some closure into place) but on reconsideration, it was decided that plane tickets and finances would make this too difficult so Max and B were to pack up their belongings and be on a plane in two days. This cut both of the girls deeply. Anger quickly faded to heart break. I had nothing left to say except that I would miss them terribly.
As for Rachel, she had mentioned a while ago that she had wanted to leave on the 17th or 18th. Although Rachel was smack in the middle of the happenings here on the grounds, Rachel was not involved in the conversations or decisions with Raf because she was due to leave and had no stake in being employed by the resort. Quickly after the decision was made for Max and B, Raf booked a plane ticket off the island for Rachel having nothing to do with the drama, but because it was near the time that she had originally requested to leave. Timing wise, because Raf was moving through his checklist of things to do, and because he didn’t talk to her before booking the ticket, Rachel felt that her very last minute ticket (advised on one day that she had a ticket arranged for the next day) was directly related to the conflicts within the dive centre. She had sweet little time to not only pack up her things but pack up her heart and say her goodbyes to a place that she had settled into, much the same as Max and B, before she was bound for her next destination. All three girls left on the same day, Max and B in the morning, Rachel in the afternoon. My neighbours, my girls, were gone.
I have many mixed feelings about it all. I’ve had conversations with all that were involved and have been asked my opinion about the decisions that were made. I shared my concerns with Raf, gave him pieces of information that I felt he was missing and told him that I have no opinions on the decisions that he made because I can’t possibly put myself in his shoes with having a business to run and knowing what he wants for his resort. I think he heard what I had to say as he appeared quite reflective knowing that people got hurt in the process and that difficult decisions were made quickly. Again, he has been in Africa for 10 years, recognizes that he can often be reactive and make decisions in haste, but because he has been there, done that, he shared that he often knows what’s coming before most can even see it. No comment. We have different approaches to dealing with people because we are coming from completely different places. End of this tale being, regardless of rights or wrongs, the owners made decisions to get the business back on track and eliminate tensions, the girls are gone, the business carries on, and I do miss my kayaking, swimming, chatting, shouting over the walls, please come kill this spider, tell me another story company. I really do.
While there is more to say and many more things to comment on, sadly this blog is to be discontinued. I have come to realize that I am simply reporting events instead of sharing my experiences with the naturally accompanying, in the moment emotions and that isn’t what this was intended to be. The public nature of this blog has forced me to curb content and neutralize opinions so not the best use of my creative time. If any of you have made it to the end of these ramblings and remain curious or interested in hearing more, send me a note and I’ll direct future writings, and there are future writings, as msgs to your facebook or email accounts, as I did on my last journey. Thank you to all of you who have been supportive of me through good days and bad, who have recognized that this was intended to be a personal account of my attempt to adjust to a new environment and new people, for remembering that I am human, that not everything I gripe about is a problem that needs to be resolved, and that sometimes, yes, sometimes, we just all need to vent. Thank you to those of you who stood back and let me vent so that I could find my own perspective again. Here’s to guarding my thoughts a little more carefully…
Love you.
Jan
After much drama, the present population consists of Raf and Cisca (they returned from almost three weeks away), Mac, Brendan, Anya, and myself. Add two, minus three as you can see. I don't know what to say, how it all began, or how it all unraveled but in the process, many feelings were hurt, relationships were damaged, and there have been several unforeseeable changes in plans. It has been said throughout history and many times over these past few days... there are three sides to every story, your side, their side and the real one somewhere in the middle. I have tried very hard to stay somewhere in the middle. Most likely pissing off everyone in the process as it is when there is conflict. Frustratingly enough you are often expected to choose a side. It's usually not a direct "whose side are you on? (mind you, sometimes it is), but is more often a "what is your honest opinion?" Again, I did my best to offer a neutral opinion and steer middle of the road. What has taken place over the past couple of weeks does not involve me directly but when you're on a small island within this even smaller world, everything eventually affects everyone, doesn't it? Yes, it does indeed.
Hmmm... try to summarize...
Two relationships in the midst of two teachers and two students doing pretty tough courses... recipe for disaster really. And so it was.
There were daily battles of someone or two or three or four feeling that the other one or ones weren't doing their fair share of work, getting their fair share of teaching attention, that people were being treated unprofessionally or unfairly, that toes were getting stepped on, steps were being missed, romances were complicating issues, teaching opportunities were being delayed by health concerns or lack of preparation, feelings were getting hurt, this one didn't know what that one was doing, and on and on and on. Squabbles, melt downs, tears, temper tantrums, avoidance, denial, attempts to reconcile issues going awry and making matters worse... ***sigh*** Several times I made it pretty clear that junior high was long behind all of us and it needed to stay that way but a course had been set and on it went. Regular counselling sessions where again, I attempted to listen and offer some possible solutions to immediate concerns, but mostly I just listened. Listened to how frustrated this one was with that one, how hurt this one's feelings were because of that one's actions, how angry this one was or how done that one was or how exhausted this one was or how childish that one was... my heart broke for all of them and solutions were few and far between. Once the tensions were there, the path of least resistance was for them to escalate, naturally. Initially it appeared two against two, then three against one and it was this three against one that led to our current situation. All four chose to speak to me about various frustrations and I could agree with all four of them on several different points but I couldn't take sides. I could see one point of view more strongly in a certain situation but differently in another situation. There were some days where I did "take a side" by agreeing with a the way a current situation was handled but I couldn't act on it. Middle of the road, support everyone, stay out of it as best as I can. I am not the dive team but I liked these people, I like all of these people, I wasn’t part of their battles, but it was so hard not to be.
Mine, yours, and the reality. Some days I wanted to shake all four of them, some days I avoided all four of them, some days I wanted to hug all four of them and force them work it out so we could all just hang out and go back to the way it first was. But it wasn't my fight or my place to fix it. I could see them all getting more and more exhausted; worn down by the physical demands of the courses and the emotional drain of Swahili soap opera. So hard to watch and so sad to see hearts getting hurt and feelings being trampled. How on earth do we make this okay? It had gotten far beyond that point very, very quickly.
Mac and I chatted often about the regular state of affairs - he now being my saving grace and last shred of sanity. (and no, there is no jiggy jiggy going on) There were days where he wanted to sack all of them and days where he thought it was best to let them work it out amongst themselves. He made guided them and reminded them that they had a job to do, divers were to be diving and the show was to be running. They had to work it out. There are a million different things to do around this place on a daily basis, dealing with staff conflicts every day is not an option. We often shook our heads together and did what we could to remain neutral but supportive. Open but non-judgemental. Whether or not this was the best way to address it is not my call to make. There have been conversations that have followed the last few days' chain of events that have swayed to the contrary - that staff issues should be dealt with swiftly and firmly. Hindsight always rings clear as a bell, doesn't it? We did the best we could and sadly, it maybe wasn't enough.
R & C returned, refreshed, renewed, and full of vision for their destination resort of Pemba. Greeting them upon their return is the brewing cyclone of dive team devastation. In the span of two quick days that involved some decisions made in haste, conversations had in more haste, time to think and rethink, negotiations and renegotiations, and finally a decision that some agree with and some don't. Maxine and Bertha no longer work for Swahili Divers and Rachel's time here was wrapping up as she was moving on to spend the last week of her year long trip elsewhere. Raf acknowledges that Maxine is a superb instructor with excellent skills. He encouraged her to take a brief holiday then consider signing a contract with him for two years wherein he would groom her to be a dive resort manager. She is 21 and years beyond in her ability and her maturity in this nature. The condition to this offer being, however, that Bertha was not to be part of the deal. Raf, I believe, feels that at this point, B. is not well enough to complete the courses she attempted and there has been some conflict that cannot be remedied hence making it too uncomfortable to have all of them here together. So, an ultimatum was put forth,,, career or relationship. I don't know many who, at 21, would not choose their relationship. Max gave her notice. There were some feelings hurt as at some point, Max was to come back and serve out her two weeks notice on her own, (which she wanted to do as it would give her time to put some closure into place) but on reconsideration, it was decided that plane tickets and finances would make this too difficult so Max and B were to pack up their belongings and be on a plane in two days. This cut both of the girls deeply. Anger quickly faded to heart break. I had nothing left to say except that I would miss them terribly.
As for Rachel, she had mentioned a while ago that she had wanted to leave on the 17th or 18th. Although Rachel was smack in the middle of the happenings here on the grounds, Rachel was not involved in the conversations or decisions with Raf because she was due to leave and had no stake in being employed by the resort. Quickly after the decision was made for Max and B, Raf booked a plane ticket off the island for Rachel having nothing to do with the drama, but because it was near the time that she had originally requested to leave. Timing wise, because Raf was moving through his checklist of things to do, and because he didn’t talk to her before booking the ticket, Rachel felt that her very last minute ticket (advised on one day that she had a ticket arranged for the next day) was directly related to the conflicts within the dive centre. She had sweet little time to not only pack up her things but pack up her heart and say her goodbyes to a place that she had settled into, much the same as Max and B, before she was bound for her next destination. All three girls left on the same day, Max and B in the morning, Rachel in the afternoon. My neighbours, my girls, were gone.
I have many mixed feelings about it all. I’ve had conversations with all that were involved and have been asked my opinion about the decisions that were made. I shared my concerns with Raf, gave him pieces of information that I felt he was missing and told him that I have no opinions on the decisions that he made because I can’t possibly put myself in his shoes with having a business to run and knowing what he wants for his resort. I think he heard what I had to say as he appeared quite reflective knowing that people got hurt in the process and that difficult decisions were made quickly. Again, he has been in Africa for 10 years, recognizes that he can often be reactive and make decisions in haste, but because he has been there, done that, he shared that he often knows what’s coming before most can even see it. No comment. We have different approaches to dealing with people because we are coming from completely different places. End of this tale being, regardless of rights or wrongs, the owners made decisions to get the business back on track and eliminate tensions, the girls are gone, the business carries on, and I do miss my kayaking, swimming, chatting, shouting over the walls, please come kill this spider, tell me another story company. I really do.
While there is more to say and many more things to comment on, sadly this blog is to be discontinued. I have come to realize that I am simply reporting events instead of sharing my experiences with the naturally accompanying, in the moment emotions and that isn’t what this was intended to be. The public nature of this blog has forced me to curb content and neutralize opinions so not the best use of my creative time. If any of you have made it to the end of these ramblings and remain curious or interested in hearing more, send me a note and I’ll direct future writings, and there are future writings, as msgs to your facebook or email accounts, as I did on my last journey. Thank you to all of you who have been supportive of me through good days and bad, who have recognized that this was intended to be a personal account of my attempt to adjust to a new environment and new people, for remembering that I am human, that not everything I gripe about is a problem that needs to be resolved, and that sometimes, yes, sometimes, we just all need to vent. Thank you to those of you who stood back and let me vent so that I could find my own perspective again. Here’s to guarding my thoughts a little more carefully…
Love you.
Jan
Saturday, February 6, 2010
The Cast
Okay, as promised, here is some of the lowdown on who's who in my zoo since I have arrived almost 6 weeks ago. 6 weeks? Oh. My. Gosh.
Mac, Mr. Mac, Malcolm, General Manager, Crazy English Man
A 31 yr old who found himself here after being lost and slightly confused as to all that life holds while living in a cold and dreary English town. His sister is good friends with Raf and Cisca (the owners, remember?) so an arrangement was made for him to do a divemaster internship here. A series of events led to him taking over the GM position 18 months ago and the DM internship fell to the wayside. A smoking, drinking, charismatic (when he wants to be) and admittedly moody boy who is living a solitary life running the show when the owners are away, and most often even when they are here. Mac has the lovely reputation of "shagging anything with a heartbeat" and was given a stern warning "not to shag the English teacher for at least 4 - 5 months" before I arrived. Despite me insisting to Raf that I do have my own brain and maybe, just maybe the ability to resist any level of charm, Raf seems to believe that all women who enter this compound eventually fall prey to this dear boy. Mac and I have an understanding... this will not happen. I've seen him charm the pants (literally) off of people and I've seen him at his moody worst; the only relationship that has or will develop is me playing wingman to his future endeavours. I know to never speak to him in the morning unless he speaks to me first, and it's usually after he's had a coffee or two. I know that my chattiness annoys the hell out of him but secretly, he'd be worried that something was wrong if all of a sudden it stopped. I've seen him work his magic with new guests and old, males and females, as he shares stories, some tasteful, some not, but always endearing. He is very good at his job.
I worry a bit as he continues to appear stressed quite often, but he talks of being MUCH more relaxed than he has ever been. Attempting to deal with money issues, when there is never any money, getting staff to complete jobs that they often have no interest in completing, and sorting out the politics of running a white business in an African country must be exhausting. All the while, I think he feels rather lonely. In his defense, he is on his own here. If he "connects" with a long term guest, a diving student, or a random traveller, it's no different than the soap operas that would happen at home in the bars. It's just that here, there is no privacy, absolutely no privacy, so Mac's escapades are open, public domain. He knows this and has a great sense of humour about it. And we continue to have our understanding that darling, that line for us, will never be crossed. Despite all outward appearances, apparently should the situation call for it, he could quite capably beat someone to within an inch of their life. A good ally and a great next door neighbour to have should I find another shadow monster in my room anytime in the future.
Maxine & Bertha, Max & B, Instructor and DiveMaster Trainee
Max and B are the lovely and very young engaged lesbian South African couple who kindly let me take over their room when I was too afraid to return to mine that first gruesome week of January. Since I've moved up into the "staff quarters", our duplex shares a wall. This wall, as all walls here with the thatched rooves, are open a good 2 feet from the tops of the walls to the overhanging thatched bits. We can shout back and forth to each other if there's ever a concern about who is where or who needs what or who is next for the shower as we three girls and Mac all share an outside bathroom. Running water but yeah, pretty ick. It's like camping, but long term. There is no comfort here, my dears. Anyway!
Max has been an instructor for quite some time and without doubt one of the most skilled and mature 21 year olds I have ever seen. Guest after guest comments on how good she is in and out of the water and all are shocked to hear she is only 21. She is naturally relaxed and laid back both on land and under the sea; no matter what situation is thrown at her, she seems to handle it without missing a beat. A very impressive girl indeed.
Her fiancee... financee? fiance? how does it work here? I'll have to ask them tomorrow, I'm not sure who's who on this one. Okay, yeah, anyway... B is 22 yrs old and doing her divemaster training course. B is a very shy girl who talks openly with me but shared during one of my first days here that she doesn't like to talk and doesn't think that will ever change. It appears that she has made some pretty significant life changes by coming to join Max here on the island and socializing is not one of her comfort zones at this point. In addition to being painfully shy at times, she is struggling with numerous health issues. I'm not sure of all of the details for all of her conditions but the DM course and the work load have been both physically and mentally challenging for her. Several times she has had some emotional breakdowns and been close to just closing up shop, but for now she soldiers on. Sadly, I don't think there has been a day that I have been here where she hasn't been suffering with some kind of medical or emotional concern. It's tough on a healthy body, when I remember the demands of my DMT course, so an unwell one, yikes. Not good. In addtion to the medical concerns, there is a significant personality conflict with the other instructor who is here, and that adds to the stress of the situation. The relationship between Max and B appears rocky at times, but I think considering the weight of living, working, and learning together 24 / 7, they are doing better than most. I feel badly that I have little else to offer her other than a listening ear and encouraging words from time to time but she and Max seem to have the support system thing worked out pretty darn good. Max and the other instructor are sharing the teaching for the DMT course. That leads me to...
Brendan, biker dude, cool guy, dive instructor, Kiwi
Brendan arrived on the island a week and a bit after I did. He has been in Africa for quite some time, initially travelling by bicycle and then by motorbike. He has stopped here to work as a dive instructor in efforts to make money to further fund his African travels. I'm not sure how long he plans to stay, maybe another month? Again, I'll have to ask tomorrow. I just realized that I'm the only one down here, all by myself, everyone else has returned to their rooms. Ummm... I'm outta here! No dark, scary encounters for me, thank you very much! I'll do some more writing in my room.
Okay, I'm back. Sorry about that.
So Brendan. Hmmm... I think he's still trying to find his place here. He arrived as an instuctor, but Maxine has been the resident instructor for some time and one of his students is Max's fiancee, B. I can't help but think that it makes for a somewhat difficult situation. That and the fact that he turned 30 mere days after his arrival. GULP! The big 3-0! He did his instructor training very near where I did my DM course, so it was nice to be able to share some stories about common dive sites and dive folk that we had met along the way. Brendan is a teacher back in NZ and seems very passionate about teaching the wonders of science to all the teenagers he can find. His travels appear to be about experiencing the real deal, not the tourist package, and he struggles with anything main stream. Case in point... when Brendan arrived here, he was in need of some pretty serious medical attention. He had some good sized gaping wounds from an earlier motorbike accident that were simply not healing and he had unknowingly offered refuge to some kind of worm that was slowly winding a path up and through the top of his foot. Makes me gag just thinking about it. Barefoot, barefoot, barefoot - he wants African barefoot tough skin on his feet. Hey dumbass... you're not African. He and I had this conversation, by the way. Anyway, R & C were kind enough to surprise him with a genuine pair of knock off imitation Croc sandals to try to help the healing process along as he didn't own flipflops and his only pair of shoes are heavy black skater shoes. Not ideal for beach life. On principal alone, despite gaping sores and worm tracks in his foot, he could not bring himself to wear the Crocs. THAT is Brendan. (btw... I promptly went out and bought my own pair of genuine knock off imitation Crocs and I freaking love them!) So yeah, he's the motorbike riding, sleep on the side of the road, see it for what it really is, guitar playing, a little bit moody but not nearly as much as when he was raging with infections, guy's guy who likes to take it easy man. He can be superbly entertaining in his story telling abilities or deeply reflective when the moment is upon him. In addition to the personality conflicts with one student, there is a romantic on again off again history with his other student...
Rachel, dancing queen, DiveMaster Trainee
Rachel arrived here a week after I did, a few days before Brendan, and is completing her DM course alongside B. She's French, working in Ireland, of Indian descent, and is currently rounding out the end of her year around the world trip here at Swahili Divers. Rachel is a very affectionate, animated, flirty, energetic 32 yr old girl who insists that she is cynical when it comes to love but is more about love than most. She and Brendan had a strange kind of brief romantic interlude somewhere on Zanzibar before they both arrived here. I don't think that they had arranged to both come here to be together, but it was a topic of conversation between the two of them and yes, there has been some drama once they both realized that this place was to be home for a number of weeks. First it was the initially awkward, okay we kinda made out in Zanzibar and now we're here, are we a couple?, let's try it out and see how it feels, oh it's kinda awkward teaching / learning from a kinda relationship partner, let's back off and not talk to each other but maybe secretly pine for each other but treat each badly because communication skills are not top priority and who wants to really bring it up ... oh... good... GAWD!!! As an outsider, to watch this, it was simply painful. And the funny thing was, both thought nobody really noticed. Really guys? REALLY??? So this went back and forth for some time, Rachel chatted with me about various concerns, thoughts, and situations, and bottom line is, they have talked, they have cleared the air, and although both of them don't know whether or not they are in a relationship, a friendship, or are simply enjoying the occassional cuddle session, they have rekindled their kindness towards each other and that is the most important thing. Rachel is full of life as she chats away in the most flirtatious of ways to any and everyone, sexuality oozing from every pore. I'm quite envious of her self-confidence and have told her this many times. She's a sensitive girl who tries hard to pretend that she's not and I worry a little about her potential for a broken heart. A very fun girl who acknowledges how naive she can be, surprisingly so sometimes, but thoroughly seems to be enjoying her life. Thoroughly.
Some of the best moments so far have been the four of us girls out on the kayaks or goofing around in the pool, scuba gear or not, just chatting and laughing and blowing off steam. When all four of us seem to catch each other in the same frame of mind, it is SUCH good fun.
And finally there is Anya.
Anya just arrived day before yesterday. A 19 yr old American girl who came under the strangest of circumstances. A friend of Raf's, a retired US military guy who now heads the UN security advisory in Dar es Salaam met this girl in a bar one night and contacted Mac saying that she was going through some "issues" and needed to get away. An arrangement was made that she was to come here and help out around the hotel for 6 - 8 weeks while she sorted her life out. Ummm... wtf? At 19, she needs to sort her life out? Okay. We all have our suspicions but they will be kept as such until more info can be provided. She is American, literally did the rock star hand gesture when she said she was from Boston, MA, and appears a little uncomfortable being here, but who wasn't uncomfortable at 19?! Seriously. I've yet to have had a chance to really chat with her to get the rest of the story, but that is definitely on my to do list. A bit of a strange mix to the already ragtag bunch of us, but come on now, it just seems to fit, doesn't it?
And that makes 7. Magical number really. With the exception of Brendan and Anya, my counselling skills have remained sharp, I've been told. Everyone is funny as they preface their chats with "I'm not complaining but..." and then they release whatever is the most recent bee in their bonnet. What I keep trying to tell them is who cares if you're complaining?! Complain away! We're on a tiny little island within a tiny little dive resort in the middle of freaking NOWHERE - everyone has the right to complain. I can just imagine what they have to say about me! Annoying old bat.
Bahahahaha! A teeny tiny super cute frog just landed with a solid, squishy splat on the desk across my room. I just went over to check if he's okay but I have no idea where he could have fallen from! He must have been in my roof. Unreal. Thank goodness for mosquito nets - I can only imagine what would land on my forehead or in my mouth should that barrier be suddenly gone. I'm watching this little guy peer over the edge of the desk at the floor a million miles below as he contemplates the drop off and if it's really worth it. Ahhhh... I love it.
So that's my zoo and I need to go to bed. Tomorrow I will update you on a few of our more memorable guests. Good-NESS I am one dumb, sheltered, boring girl. It's quite sad how little I've actually done now that my life has been put into perspective over here. But yes, the self-deprecating comments can be saved until tomorrow. I continue to trust in my universe, no matter where I may go. Sleep well all. xoxo
Mac, Mr. Mac, Malcolm, General Manager, Crazy English Man
A 31 yr old who found himself here after being lost and slightly confused as to all that life holds while living in a cold and dreary English town. His sister is good friends with Raf and Cisca (the owners, remember?) so an arrangement was made for him to do a divemaster internship here. A series of events led to him taking over the GM position 18 months ago and the DM internship fell to the wayside. A smoking, drinking, charismatic (when he wants to be) and admittedly moody boy who is living a solitary life running the show when the owners are away, and most often even when they are here. Mac has the lovely reputation of "shagging anything with a heartbeat" and was given a stern warning "not to shag the English teacher for at least 4 - 5 months" before I arrived. Despite me insisting to Raf that I do have my own brain and maybe, just maybe the ability to resist any level of charm, Raf seems to believe that all women who enter this compound eventually fall prey to this dear boy. Mac and I have an understanding... this will not happen. I've seen him charm the pants (literally) off of people and I've seen him at his moody worst; the only relationship that has or will develop is me playing wingman to his future endeavours. I know to never speak to him in the morning unless he speaks to me first, and it's usually after he's had a coffee or two. I know that my chattiness annoys the hell out of him but secretly, he'd be worried that something was wrong if all of a sudden it stopped. I've seen him work his magic with new guests and old, males and females, as he shares stories, some tasteful, some not, but always endearing. He is very good at his job.
I worry a bit as he continues to appear stressed quite often, but he talks of being MUCH more relaxed than he has ever been. Attempting to deal with money issues, when there is never any money, getting staff to complete jobs that they often have no interest in completing, and sorting out the politics of running a white business in an African country must be exhausting. All the while, I think he feels rather lonely. In his defense, he is on his own here. If he "connects" with a long term guest, a diving student, or a random traveller, it's no different than the soap operas that would happen at home in the bars. It's just that here, there is no privacy, absolutely no privacy, so Mac's escapades are open, public domain. He knows this and has a great sense of humour about it. And we continue to have our understanding that darling, that line for us, will never be crossed. Despite all outward appearances, apparently should the situation call for it, he could quite capably beat someone to within an inch of their life. A good ally and a great next door neighbour to have should I find another shadow monster in my room anytime in the future.
Maxine & Bertha, Max & B, Instructor and DiveMaster Trainee
Max and B are the lovely and very young engaged lesbian South African couple who kindly let me take over their room when I was too afraid to return to mine that first gruesome week of January. Since I've moved up into the "staff quarters", our duplex shares a wall. This wall, as all walls here with the thatched rooves, are open a good 2 feet from the tops of the walls to the overhanging thatched bits. We can shout back and forth to each other if there's ever a concern about who is where or who needs what or who is next for the shower as we three girls and Mac all share an outside bathroom. Running water but yeah, pretty ick. It's like camping, but long term. There is no comfort here, my dears. Anyway!
Max has been an instructor for quite some time and without doubt one of the most skilled and mature 21 year olds I have ever seen. Guest after guest comments on how good she is in and out of the water and all are shocked to hear she is only 21. She is naturally relaxed and laid back both on land and under the sea; no matter what situation is thrown at her, she seems to handle it without missing a beat. A very impressive girl indeed.
Her fiancee... financee? fiance? how does it work here? I'll have to ask them tomorrow, I'm not sure who's who on this one. Okay, yeah, anyway... B is 22 yrs old and doing her divemaster training course. B is a very shy girl who talks openly with me but shared during one of my first days here that she doesn't like to talk and doesn't think that will ever change. It appears that she has made some pretty significant life changes by coming to join Max here on the island and socializing is not one of her comfort zones at this point. In addition to being painfully shy at times, she is struggling with numerous health issues. I'm not sure of all of the details for all of her conditions but the DM course and the work load have been both physically and mentally challenging for her. Several times she has had some emotional breakdowns and been close to just closing up shop, but for now she soldiers on. Sadly, I don't think there has been a day that I have been here where she hasn't been suffering with some kind of medical or emotional concern. It's tough on a healthy body, when I remember the demands of my DMT course, so an unwell one, yikes. Not good. In addtion to the medical concerns, there is a significant personality conflict with the other instructor who is here, and that adds to the stress of the situation. The relationship between Max and B appears rocky at times, but I think considering the weight of living, working, and learning together 24 / 7, they are doing better than most. I feel badly that I have little else to offer her other than a listening ear and encouraging words from time to time but she and Max seem to have the support system thing worked out pretty darn good. Max and the other instructor are sharing the teaching for the DMT course. That leads me to...
Brendan, biker dude, cool guy, dive instructor, Kiwi
Brendan arrived on the island a week and a bit after I did. He has been in Africa for quite some time, initially travelling by bicycle and then by motorbike. He has stopped here to work as a dive instructor in efforts to make money to further fund his African travels. I'm not sure how long he plans to stay, maybe another month? Again, I'll have to ask tomorrow. I just realized that I'm the only one down here, all by myself, everyone else has returned to their rooms. Ummm... I'm outta here! No dark, scary encounters for me, thank you very much! I'll do some more writing in my room.
Okay, I'm back. Sorry about that.
So Brendan. Hmmm... I think he's still trying to find his place here. He arrived as an instuctor, but Maxine has been the resident instructor for some time and one of his students is Max's fiancee, B. I can't help but think that it makes for a somewhat difficult situation. That and the fact that he turned 30 mere days after his arrival. GULP! The big 3-0! He did his instructor training very near where I did my DM course, so it was nice to be able to share some stories about common dive sites and dive folk that we had met along the way. Brendan is a teacher back in NZ and seems very passionate about teaching the wonders of science to all the teenagers he can find. His travels appear to be about experiencing the real deal, not the tourist package, and he struggles with anything main stream. Case in point... when Brendan arrived here, he was in need of some pretty serious medical attention. He had some good sized gaping wounds from an earlier motorbike accident that were simply not healing and he had unknowingly offered refuge to some kind of worm that was slowly winding a path up and through the top of his foot. Makes me gag just thinking about it. Barefoot, barefoot, barefoot - he wants African barefoot tough skin on his feet. Hey dumbass... you're not African. He and I had this conversation, by the way. Anyway, R & C were kind enough to surprise him with a genuine pair of knock off imitation Croc sandals to try to help the healing process along as he didn't own flipflops and his only pair of shoes are heavy black skater shoes. Not ideal for beach life. On principal alone, despite gaping sores and worm tracks in his foot, he could not bring himself to wear the Crocs. THAT is Brendan. (btw... I promptly went out and bought my own pair of genuine knock off imitation Crocs and I freaking love them!) So yeah, he's the motorbike riding, sleep on the side of the road, see it for what it really is, guitar playing, a little bit moody but not nearly as much as when he was raging with infections, guy's guy who likes to take it easy man. He can be superbly entertaining in his story telling abilities or deeply reflective when the moment is upon him. In addition to the personality conflicts with one student, there is a romantic on again off again history with his other student...
Rachel, dancing queen, DiveMaster Trainee
Rachel arrived here a week after I did, a few days before Brendan, and is completing her DM course alongside B. She's French, working in Ireland, of Indian descent, and is currently rounding out the end of her year around the world trip here at Swahili Divers. Rachel is a very affectionate, animated, flirty, energetic 32 yr old girl who insists that she is cynical when it comes to love but is more about love than most. She and Brendan had a strange kind of brief romantic interlude somewhere on Zanzibar before they both arrived here. I don't think that they had arranged to both come here to be together, but it was a topic of conversation between the two of them and yes, there has been some drama once they both realized that this place was to be home for a number of weeks. First it was the initially awkward, okay we kinda made out in Zanzibar and now we're here, are we a couple?, let's try it out and see how it feels, oh it's kinda awkward teaching / learning from a kinda relationship partner, let's back off and not talk to each other but maybe secretly pine for each other but treat each badly because communication skills are not top priority and who wants to really bring it up ... oh... good... GAWD!!! As an outsider, to watch this, it was simply painful. And the funny thing was, both thought nobody really noticed. Really guys? REALLY??? So this went back and forth for some time, Rachel chatted with me about various concerns, thoughts, and situations, and bottom line is, they have talked, they have cleared the air, and although both of them don't know whether or not they are in a relationship, a friendship, or are simply enjoying the occassional cuddle session, they have rekindled their kindness towards each other and that is the most important thing. Rachel is full of life as she chats away in the most flirtatious of ways to any and everyone, sexuality oozing from every pore. I'm quite envious of her self-confidence and have told her this many times. She's a sensitive girl who tries hard to pretend that she's not and I worry a little about her potential for a broken heart. A very fun girl who acknowledges how naive she can be, surprisingly so sometimes, but thoroughly seems to be enjoying her life. Thoroughly.
Some of the best moments so far have been the four of us girls out on the kayaks or goofing around in the pool, scuba gear or not, just chatting and laughing and blowing off steam. When all four of us seem to catch each other in the same frame of mind, it is SUCH good fun.
And finally there is Anya.
Anya just arrived day before yesterday. A 19 yr old American girl who came under the strangest of circumstances. A friend of Raf's, a retired US military guy who now heads the UN security advisory in Dar es Salaam met this girl in a bar one night and contacted Mac saying that she was going through some "issues" and needed to get away. An arrangement was made that she was to come here and help out around the hotel for 6 - 8 weeks while she sorted her life out. Ummm... wtf? At 19, she needs to sort her life out? Okay. We all have our suspicions but they will be kept as such until more info can be provided. She is American, literally did the rock star hand gesture when she said she was from Boston, MA, and appears a little uncomfortable being here, but who wasn't uncomfortable at 19?! Seriously. I've yet to have had a chance to really chat with her to get the rest of the story, but that is definitely on my to do list. A bit of a strange mix to the already ragtag bunch of us, but come on now, it just seems to fit, doesn't it?
And that makes 7. Magical number really. With the exception of Brendan and Anya, my counselling skills have remained sharp, I've been told. Everyone is funny as they preface their chats with "I'm not complaining but..." and then they release whatever is the most recent bee in their bonnet. What I keep trying to tell them is who cares if you're complaining?! Complain away! We're on a tiny little island within a tiny little dive resort in the middle of freaking NOWHERE - everyone has the right to complain. I can just imagine what they have to say about me! Annoying old bat.
Bahahahaha! A teeny tiny super cute frog just landed with a solid, squishy splat on the desk across my room. I just went over to check if he's okay but I have no idea where he could have fallen from! He must have been in my roof. Unreal. Thank goodness for mosquito nets - I can only imagine what would land on my forehead or in my mouth should that barrier be suddenly gone. I'm watching this little guy peer over the edge of the desk at the floor a million miles below as he contemplates the drop off and if it's really worth it. Ahhhh... I love it.
So that's my zoo and I need to go to bed. Tomorrow I will update you on a few of our more memorable guests. Good-NESS I am one dumb, sheltered, boring girl. It's quite sad how little I've actually done now that my life has been put into perspective over here. But yes, the self-deprecating comments can be saved until tomorrow. I continue to trust in my universe, no matter where I may go. Sleep well all. xoxo
Blend and blur
Can't believe that it has been so long since I've last written. Can't believe even more that I don't have anything really too exciting to catch you up on. *sigh*
Life here is bizarre as I seem to manage to find things to keep me busy but can't really list them off at the end of the day. I haven't had a lot of time where I just sit around or read or daydream about this, that, and everything else but yeah, I'm not sure if I've been all that productive. A typical day consists of me arriving down at the office and puttering about as I help the kitchen get breakfast and lunch organized, then sort things out for the cleaning girls before I start in on the snatch and grab game of two students here, three students there. I'm slowly learning that time management and organizational skills, precious threads of peace of mind in our western world, are foreign concepts never meant to be woven into life here. Thankfully, I'm learning to be okay with this. A whole new level of relaxed, and I really am okay with this. I may catch myself sighing enormously as I walk back and forth to the office store room for my hundredth trip to bring yet one more thing to the kitchen, or up to the local staff area to get someone back on track, but it's quickly checked as I hand it over or it's received with a smile and a "thank you teacher!" (I'm working on getting them to call me "Janice")
Some days there are loads of staff here, all eager for class, other days, few bodies and even less interest, but I'm getting in at least four hours of teaching a day, spread out randomly throughout the day. Anytime between 4 and 6 pm, after the kitchen staff has changed over and the cleaning girls have bid me farewell, I am thoroughly drenched in sweat and stink. (Charming, hey?) ... oh look at that, in the midst of writing all of this, I have gotten laundry soap, filled Mac in on what's happened on his morning off, sympathized with an ill and unhappy staff member, greeted and chatted with a long term guest, and gotten two packs of tomato paste for the kitchen. An ADD child's worst nightmare!!! Putter, putter, putter about. But it's good, it's really good. If I didn't feel useful here, at least in the smallest of ways, I think I'd lose my mind a little bit more than I already have. Everybody likes to feel needed now and again, I get to feel that way all day long!
I've been for another quick walk to the village, where a mzungu will always be a local celebrity no matter how many times I go, but this time the children were a little more curious and a little more brave. One or two keen little boys attempted to fill me in on the names in the crowd and then giggles all around as there were gentle and trepidacious high fives exchanged. Late afternoon seems to be a good time to go as everyone is home from school and the various creatures have been brought home from their random grazing plots. OH! Speaking of! Was desperate for a camera as I watched the tiniest of boys, no more than three years old, with a thin stick in his hand herding 4 sauntering, emaciated cows back to their home. His older brother trailed behaind with 6 cows in his command. This little smidge of a boy, in shorts with a turned up collared shirt and no shoes on, was the consummate professional as he jogged up and back, tapping this rib or that flank, all the while a very serious and determined look on his concerned little face. Oh how I wanted to run up and grab him, squeezing him to bits, but I didn't think that it would be too well received at this point in my stay. Well, I guess it wouldn't be well received at any point in my stay, but you know what I mean. He was just so very cute.
Ummm... okay... where was I? Ramble, ramble, ramble. So yep, my days just seem to melt away. shoot. hold on.
and there you go... Mac's day off, kinda, he never really has a day off unless he leaves the island, and for the most part, I can take care of whatever needs to be taken care of while he's up at his house. It was arranged that 40 (adult) students from the thriving city of Chake Chake were coming to check out the resort. Just walk around and see the place. I confirmed again this morning that they needed nothing from us, just wanted to walk around. As they arrive one hour early, they want to know who will be taking them on their tour. ...gulp... pardon? your what? Okay. So as Mac delegates the tour to one of our local staff who is responsible for lunch, I run around and get lunch set out for our guests who were returning from their dive as the group of students began their procession with today's "assistant manager" leading the way. ahhh... good times, good times. Lunch is set, divers are showering, students are being led away, and I am now back at my computer. This is pretty much how it goes. So yes, while I don't ever feel that I'm incredibly productive with my day, there's always something going on.
I had the chance to make a quick trip into Chake, the main hub of this little island, and while it was a quick trip, it was worth it. I only briefly got to see the main street and a few side streets of a market but I loved it. Ducking here and there, not the complete chaos or glorious tidbits of an Asian street, but so very interesting. Pressed for time, I just had to grab a few necessities, I will go back soon. One, to get off the resort and two, to check it out a little more. Nothing too life changing, but oh how I love poking around local centres. More details once I've had more of a chance to explore.
Haven't been out to dive nearly as much as I want to, but the few times I've been continue to be spectacular. Amazing sites out here. Not once have I been out for a swim in the sea. Time and the rocky bottom and sea urchins just keep me away. The kayaks are nice and the small pool they have on site are good for cooling down, the sea is all about the dives. All about the dives. Oh, wait now, I have been out in the sea once. I'll tell you that story another day.
Anyway, I'm presently working on my next entry which will try to outline the shining cast in my current team of players. Small number with one new addition but it may help to sort out who's who when I mention names. Good days, bad days, it's all part of the game. But yes, there has been drama despite our small numbers. For now, I just wanted to check in quickly, remind all of you that I haven't forgotten my committment to connect, and the story shall continue...
love you.
xoxo
Life here is bizarre as I seem to manage to find things to keep me busy but can't really list them off at the end of the day. I haven't had a lot of time where I just sit around or read or daydream about this, that, and everything else but yeah, I'm not sure if I've been all that productive. A typical day consists of me arriving down at the office and puttering about as I help the kitchen get breakfast and lunch organized, then sort things out for the cleaning girls before I start in on the snatch and grab game of two students here, three students there. I'm slowly learning that time management and organizational skills, precious threads of peace of mind in our western world, are foreign concepts never meant to be woven into life here. Thankfully, I'm learning to be okay with this. A whole new level of relaxed, and I really am okay with this. I may catch myself sighing enormously as I walk back and forth to the office store room for my hundredth trip to bring yet one more thing to the kitchen, or up to the local staff area to get someone back on track, but it's quickly checked as I hand it over or it's received with a smile and a "thank you teacher!" (I'm working on getting them to call me "Janice")
Some days there are loads of staff here, all eager for class, other days, few bodies and even less interest, but I'm getting in at least four hours of teaching a day, spread out randomly throughout the day. Anytime between 4 and 6 pm, after the kitchen staff has changed over and the cleaning girls have bid me farewell, I am thoroughly drenched in sweat and stink. (Charming, hey?) ... oh look at that, in the midst of writing all of this, I have gotten laundry soap, filled Mac in on what's happened on his morning off, sympathized with an ill and unhappy staff member, greeted and chatted with a long term guest, and gotten two packs of tomato paste for the kitchen. An ADD child's worst nightmare!!! Putter, putter, putter about. But it's good, it's really good. If I didn't feel useful here, at least in the smallest of ways, I think I'd lose my mind a little bit more than I already have. Everybody likes to feel needed now and again, I get to feel that way all day long!
I've been for another quick walk to the village, where a mzungu will always be a local celebrity no matter how many times I go, but this time the children were a little more curious and a little more brave. One or two keen little boys attempted to fill me in on the names in the crowd and then giggles all around as there were gentle and trepidacious high fives exchanged. Late afternoon seems to be a good time to go as everyone is home from school and the various creatures have been brought home from their random grazing plots. OH! Speaking of! Was desperate for a camera as I watched the tiniest of boys, no more than three years old, with a thin stick in his hand herding 4 sauntering, emaciated cows back to their home. His older brother trailed behaind with 6 cows in his command. This little smidge of a boy, in shorts with a turned up collared shirt and no shoes on, was the consummate professional as he jogged up and back, tapping this rib or that flank, all the while a very serious and determined look on his concerned little face. Oh how I wanted to run up and grab him, squeezing him to bits, but I didn't think that it would be too well received at this point in my stay. Well, I guess it wouldn't be well received at any point in my stay, but you know what I mean. He was just so very cute.
Ummm... okay... where was I? Ramble, ramble, ramble. So yep, my days just seem to melt away. shoot. hold on.
and there you go... Mac's day off, kinda, he never really has a day off unless he leaves the island, and for the most part, I can take care of whatever needs to be taken care of while he's up at his house. It was arranged that 40 (adult) students from the thriving city of Chake Chake were coming to check out the resort. Just walk around and see the place. I confirmed again this morning that they needed nothing from us, just wanted to walk around. As they arrive one hour early, they want to know who will be taking them on their tour. ...gulp... pardon? your what? Okay. So as Mac delegates the tour to one of our local staff who is responsible for lunch, I run around and get lunch set out for our guests who were returning from their dive as the group of students began their procession with today's "assistant manager" leading the way. ahhh... good times, good times. Lunch is set, divers are showering, students are being led away, and I am now back at my computer. This is pretty much how it goes. So yes, while I don't ever feel that I'm incredibly productive with my day, there's always something going on.
I had the chance to make a quick trip into Chake, the main hub of this little island, and while it was a quick trip, it was worth it. I only briefly got to see the main street and a few side streets of a market but I loved it. Ducking here and there, not the complete chaos or glorious tidbits of an Asian street, but so very interesting. Pressed for time, I just had to grab a few necessities, I will go back soon. One, to get off the resort and two, to check it out a little more. Nothing too life changing, but oh how I love poking around local centres. More details once I've had more of a chance to explore.
Haven't been out to dive nearly as much as I want to, but the few times I've been continue to be spectacular. Amazing sites out here. Not once have I been out for a swim in the sea. Time and the rocky bottom and sea urchins just keep me away. The kayaks are nice and the small pool they have on site are good for cooling down, the sea is all about the dives. All about the dives. Oh, wait now, I have been out in the sea once. I'll tell you that story another day.
Anyway, I'm presently working on my next entry which will try to outline the shining cast in my current team of players. Small number with one new addition but it may help to sort out who's who when I mention names. Good days, bad days, it's all part of the game. But yes, there has been drama despite our small numbers. For now, I just wanted to check in quickly, remind all of you that I haven't forgotten my committment to connect, and the story shall continue...
love you.
xoxo
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