***sigh***
I'm thinking most, if not all of you, who read this blog know me at least a little bit. Good days and bad days, I continue to throw my life into chaos in attempts to find another foreign corner of the world because I love it. Even in my worst moments, where I hate everything and everyone, I know and you know that the moment always passes, the negative energy that was surrounding me clears and I have yet to hop on a plane and run back home. If I have ever found myself in a place that I truly didn't like (Pai, in North Thailand), I move on. I don't stay to write and complain and suffer through. I simply move on to the next amazing adventure.
I'm still here in Pemba because I am finding it interesting, full of potential, and a good challenge for me and my soul. I know very well that I'm not the brightest bulb in the box, but whatever I write are opinions, simply my opinions as I vent to friends and family in my process of learning and growing. Maybe they are ignorant, misinformed opinions, but in no way am I discouraging tourism to this charming island, trying to dissuade others from coming, putting western life on a pedestal, or being naive about the ways of the world where I come from. Yes, this is a public blog and I link it to my facebook but it's a blog. It is opinion. These are my experiences and my thoughts. By no means am I intending to shine a negative spotlight on my newest home. As I said before... those of you who know me, know that I wouldn't still be here if I didn't think it was worth every second of it, good and bad.
If anyone reads my story and gets a knot in their stomach feeling that somehow I am doing an injustice to this small island off the coast of a very big country, please stop nitpicking, please stop focusing on one or two lines and read the whole story, or please stop reading. Send me an email if you think I'm being unfair, but remember, this is MY blog, these are MY feelings, these are MY experiences, and for those simple reasons, there really isn't anything wrong with what I'm sharing. I'm fumbling through, as I did through Asia, and I'm bound to make mistakes. I will share those mistakes here. There are amazing and intelligent people who read my thoughts on this blog. If my facts are wrong or if I'm misquoting bits of information, I'll either eventually figure it out and correct myself or those intelligent people reading this will send me a note and ask me to clarify. Take a deep breath, remember that this is all new to me, and just let me enjoy the ride.
Thanks.
Janice
Monday, January 25, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
My "African" home
Swahili Divers, my current abode, is a world of it's own. Food, fuel, and supplies are brought in by oxcart or ratty pieces of pulled together vehicles, power is available in the evenings via a tempermental generator, water is pumped from a main water line into our tanks that fill with their gravity favourable designs, and meals are cooked over charcoal and propane in one of the most frightening but functioning kitchens I have ever had the chance to see. Lovely basic guest huts, a crammed and littered office, a well run dive shop, and a mismatched bunch of white faces holding it all together steps from the very big sea. The tide changes are significant, ranging from having the waves at your toes just off the grassy front or walking out in ankle deep water for 20 minutes just to get to the anchored dive boats. Sandy bits, lots of sharp coral and rocky floor and the ever despised sea urchins multiplying daily, lying in wait to pierce the next unsuspecting water baby. I have yet to go barefoot around this place. The seaview of every shade between blue and green goes on forever, the sky is so big at night that you can see the curve of the earth and if you walk far enough away from the huts and electricity, you can actually see the different colours of yellows and oranges in the stars. I've never seen that before. Dizzying. Mesmering. Our property is fenced in, chain linked all the way around except at the beachfront. Just at the edges, where my front door looks through very thick bush out onto a farmer's field, I can hear and see and smell a very different world, even in the black of night. I'm not sure if it's the lingering fear of my shadow monster encounter or a genuine instinct telling me that crossing that line in the darkness is unwise, but when the sun is down, even inside the security of our fenced in boundary lines, I don't go far without a dog by my side.
I had a conversation with a Kiwi instructor who arrived here a couple of weeks ago and plans to stay and work for a while. He has been travelling through Africa for six months, initially by bicycle and most recently by motorbike after he finally realized how massively overwhelming this size of this continent really is. He was alone for parts of his travels but with a friend or two for most of the trip. Talking about finding and seeing places where white faces just don't go - the hassle, the stares, the complete isolation and adventure was everything I want for my own story, but unless I find two male travel partners, it will not happen. Even he, a self-sufficient, easy-going guy, was thankful for what proved to be necessary and often life-saving company most of the way. Quite simply, this is not a place that any woman could travel easily on her own, especially one who is all of just over 5 feet tall. Hassles aside, life is cheap here and a female life is the most disposable kind. When I think back to my initial hesitation of travelling SE Asia on my own I laugh at how easy it was and how the majority of my fears were completely unwarranted. Here, it's just different. So very different. I remember people telling me that getting around Asia was easy, I was worrying for nothing, but here, the tales and experienced wisdom say something else. It's hard, it's dangerous, and it's not something I should do on my own. Period. I want to travel here but I'm not sure where I start. I don't want to do the hopping from aid agency to aid agency, the stories and opinions of the value of these things here could fill pages, so I will keep asking questions of those who know best. Then, if I do find my way, I will be behind locked doors by nightfall. That's just the way it goes. The night markets were one of my most favourite Asian pasttimes but we're not in Asia anymore, Dorothy. I've put it out there, to the universe, and on my last big trip, all kinds of things seemed to simply fall into place. I'm hoping that my luck will continue for the next bunch of opportunities. In the meantime, I'll practice my spear throwing technique. Just in case.
Mkangale Village
Heading out of our chain linked fence, following a dirt path large enough for an oxcart and just maybe a vehicle if all limbs are inside and the patches of small trees that sporadically line the path are in need of a bit of pruning, you can stroll through a strange plot of farming field, some tended to, some not, some thriving patches, some wilted and neglected. There are a couple of strange rock quarries in the open fields on either side of this path that are being hammered and hacked at as piles of white, dusty boulders are smashed and thrown out of a large pit onto a growing pile along side. I think this is used for building structures, I'm not sure. I'll have to ask. Dry, dusty fields randomly give way to an enormous burst of the deepest green mushrooming leafy tree that looks so out of place and completely full of life. I think they're wild almond trees - huge, inedible nuts, not our kind of almonds. I passed one of the biggest trees I have ever seen and immediately thought of The Tree of Life, from what? The Lion King? I don't know. There was some kind of Disney theme playing in my head. There's that huge tree in Victoria on the Leg. grounds that everyone has had their picture taken in front of, it's just so, so big. This tree, in the middle of this seemingly barren farming field, dwarfs that Victoria tree hands down. Such a bizarre contrast. Maybe that's why the fields are so dry, because these random trees have sucked up everything within reach? Who knows. But I really, really, REALLY need a camera. Damn shadow monster a@@munch.
Bahahahahaha!!! A rat just fell from our thatched roof ceiling and splatted on the concrete floor. Didn't kill itself but definitely rang his bell. Currently hiding under the solid table that is being set with food for our buffet lunch. Oh island life.
Okay, sorry. Back to the village...
It's only about a kilometre until you reach the first sprinking of mud and clay huts, topped with thatched rooves, thrown like a handful of jacks. No order, no reason. Small but solid, could be brand new or 100 years old. Impossible for me to tell. As I came into an open "developed" area where there were more of these huts, some of them getting bigger, some of them obviously better made, the children start to surface. Those who aren't in school. In tattered clothing, covered in dust, they run closer but nowhere near close enough for me to actually get a good look at their smiling and shouting faces. It's like an invisible boundary stopped them dead in their tracks. Mzungu, white person from the dive resort, go no closer. Funniest thing... as they all giggle and wave and climb over each other to shout louder... they all yell "bye! bye!" Bye bye??? I've never heard this. Lots of versions of "Hellooooo!" or "what's your name?" or other kinds of greetings, but this is the first place I've encountered all of the children, all of them, waving and shouting "bye! bye!" You could see that they meant it as a greeting, but it was just weird.
It's about 8:30am so the "roads", bigger dirt paths, that cut through the "stores", houses that sell things, are filling with people walking here and there as the school boys skitter around in their royal blue trousers and whitish coloured shirts, girls in the same colours but ground length skirts and waist length ?hijabs? (a square piece of material with a circle cut out - you can see their faces poking through but they are completely covered from their hair, under their chin and it falls loosely over their shoulders and down. They look like ghost costumes from behind.) Shy but curious, these children come closer, so many of them heading towards the school, and they say "hello" or "what's your name?" Some want a reply, some just want to hear the words coming out of their months before they hurry away. Very, very cute. A group of three little girls who couldn't have been more than 10, were quite confident in their approach, followed me for quite some time, then began to taunt and giggle as they chirped away in Swahili. Don't have a clue what they wanted or what they were saying, but they thought I was pretty funny looking, I guess. Loads and loads of children. They all were heading to the school, but no one seemed to be on any kind of schedule that I could make out. I'm thinking structure isn't too much of a concern here.
I poked my head into the open space and yard that contains the three concrete bunkers placed in a U-shape... the school. Children everywhere, inside and out, going from one room to the next, wandering around, and chatting to each other. Was greeted by a few older students and I asked if a teacher was around. Nice man, looked maybe 20 himself, told me that they had 1000 students and 19 teachers. Not sure how accurate his numbers are, perhaps they see some students on one day and others on the next. Did not see any other teachers. He seemed keen to have me come and help. I smiled and nodded, he gave me his number and asked me to call so he could set up a meeting with the headmaster, I said I would have to see how things go on my "holiday". People talk. I am NOT working. I am here on a dive holiday. It was before 9am - I thought maybe school hadn't started yet. It looked like our schools at recess time.
Tucked the phone number in my pocket and made my way out. Didn't want to get sucked into anything. Continued to stroll through the village. Lots of smiles and hellos, a few clingers, but ignoring them sent them on their way, and more dirt encrusted children, not in school but sitting idly in small groups along the sides of the road. Maybe their parents were working, maybe they were in the houses or walking to get food, not really sure, but the younger ones clung to the older ones. Despite the dirt and dust, snotty noses, and tatters, they all seemed to be happy. They all waved and shouted their "bye! bye!" It was such a strange sight. Muslim village so all of the women were covered in beautifully coloured scarves (kangas). I felt rather undressed in my mid-calf capris and t-shirt but the thought of more clothing, even for the sake of fewer stares, was stifling. The sun bakes you, even at 8 in the morning.
One eager to speak young man who said he had finished school tried to answer some of my questions - said the kids to go school from 7 - 9am then head home for an hour tea break, come back to school and finish the day at 1pm. Didn't really fit with the number of children I saw heading to school and the timeline but then again, what do I care? Their schedule is their schedule. I'm sure they've got it worked out. He showed me the "clinic" which was essentially wooden benches lined with women and children waiting on who knows what and some of the "shops". Then he asked me for my silver ring and decided to move on when I said no. Wasn't the least bit surprised. Very casual, just thought he'd ask. Why not?
All of the people I passed, men, women, and children, were all so smiley and friendly but most definitely kept their distance. No one wanted to shake my hand or walk with me, some wanted to practice the few english words they know and shout out Swahili greetings, but other wise, it was just smiles and waves to the strange white girl cruising through town. Lovely, lovely, lovely. I need to head out there, much more often, to see if I can get some of them to cross that white man boundary. This is our home, that is their home. The division was painfully clear. I guess it will always be that way, a white man's business in an African man's home. I can't imagine how things must look from their perspective, how strange it must all be. I remember how much I loved being part of my little Thai town. Knowing faces in the market and my laundry lady and my motorbike taxi drivers... I was part of them. I don't think that will be an option here. But I will try...
My next big plan, to take local transport into "town", Chake Chake. It's where the airport is, I guess just a smidge of civilization, an hour away from here. Will plan to go soon and let you all know how it goes. Need to brush up on my Swahili greetings first, but want to head out and make a day of it as soon as I can. This place is amazing, but I can only sit still for so long. Coming up on a month here... unreal. Love you all. xoxo
I had a conversation with a Kiwi instructor who arrived here a couple of weeks ago and plans to stay and work for a while. He has been travelling through Africa for six months, initially by bicycle and most recently by motorbike after he finally realized how massively overwhelming this size of this continent really is. He was alone for parts of his travels but with a friend or two for most of the trip. Talking about finding and seeing places where white faces just don't go - the hassle, the stares, the complete isolation and adventure was everything I want for my own story, but unless I find two male travel partners, it will not happen. Even he, a self-sufficient, easy-going guy, was thankful for what proved to be necessary and often life-saving company most of the way. Quite simply, this is not a place that any woman could travel easily on her own, especially one who is all of just over 5 feet tall. Hassles aside, life is cheap here and a female life is the most disposable kind. When I think back to my initial hesitation of travelling SE Asia on my own I laugh at how easy it was and how the majority of my fears were completely unwarranted. Here, it's just different. So very different. I remember people telling me that getting around Asia was easy, I was worrying for nothing, but here, the tales and experienced wisdom say something else. It's hard, it's dangerous, and it's not something I should do on my own. Period. I want to travel here but I'm not sure where I start. I don't want to do the hopping from aid agency to aid agency, the stories and opinions of the value of these things here could fill pages, so I will keep asking questions of those who know best. Then, if I do find my way, I will be behind locked doors by nightfall. That's just the way it goes. The night markets were one of my most favourite Asian pasttimes but we're not in Asia anymore, Dorothy. I've put it out there, to the universe, and on my last big trip, all kinds of things seemed to simply fall into place. I'm hoping that my luck will continue for the next bunch of opportunities. In the meantime, I'll practice my spear throwing technique. Just in case.
Mkangale Village
Heading out of our chain linked fence, following a dirt path large enough for an oxcart and just maybe a vehicle if all limbs are inside and the patches of small trees that sporadically line the path are in need of a bit of pruning, you can stroll through a strange plot of farming field, some tended to, some not, some thriving patches, some wilted and neglected. There are a couple of strange rock quarries in the open fields on either side of this path that are being hammered and hacked at as piles of white, dusty boulders are smashed and thrown out of a large pit onto a growing pile along side. I think this is used for building structures, I'm not sure. I'll have to ask. Dry, dusty fields randomly give way to an enormous burst of the deepest green mushrooming leafy tree that looks so out of place and completely full of life. I think they're wild almond trees - huge, inedible nuts, not our kind of almonds. I passed one of the biggest trees I have ever seen and immediately thought of The Tree of Life, from what? The Lion King? I don't know. There was some kind of Disney theme playing in my head. There's that huge tree in Victoria on the Leg. grounds that everyone has had their picture taken in front of, it's just so, so big. This tree, in the middle of this seemingly barren farming field, dwarfs that Victoria tree hands down. Such a bizarre contrast. Maybe that's why the fields are so dry, because these random trees have sucked up everything within reach? Who knows. But I really, really, REALLY need a camera. Damn shadow monster a@@munch.
Bahahahahaha!!! A rat just fell from our thatched roof ceiling and splatted on the concrete floor. Didn't kill itself but definitely rang his bell. Currently hiding under the solid table that is being set with food for our buffet lunch. Oh island life.
Okay, sorry. Back to the village...
It's only about a kilometre until you reach the first sprinking of mud and clay huts, topped with thatched rooves, thrown like a handful of jacks. No order, no reason. Small but solid, could be brand new or 100 years old. Impossible for me to tell. As I came into an open "developed" area where there were more of these huts, some of them getting bigger, some of them obviously better made, the children start to surface. Those who aren't in school. In tattered clothing, covered in dust, they run closer but nowhere near close enough for me to actually get a good look at their smiling and shouting faces. It's like an invisible boundary stopped them dead in their tracks. Mzungu, white person from the dive resort, go no closer. Funniest thing... as they all giggle and wave and climb over each other to shout louder... they all yell "bye! bye!" Bye bye??? I've never heard this. Lots of versions of "Hellooooo!" or "what's your name?" or other kinds of greetings, but this is the first place I've encountered all of the children, all of them, waving and shouting "bye! bye!" You could see that they meant it as a greeting, but it was just weird.
It's about 8:30am so the "roads", bigger dirt paths, that cut through the "stores", houses that sell things, are filling with people walking here and there as the school boys skitter around in their royal blue trousers and whitish coloured shirts, girls in the same colours but ground length skirts and waist length ?hijabs? (a square piece of material with a circle cut out - you can see their faces poking through but they are completely covered from their hair, under their chin and it falls loosely over their shoulders and down. They look like ghost costumes from behind.) Shy but curious, these children come closer, so many of them heading towards the school, and they say "hello" or "what's your name?" Some want a reply, some just want to hear the words coming out of their months before they hurry away. Very, very cute. A group of three little girls who couldn't have been more than 10, were quite confident in their approach, followed me for quite some time, then began to taunt and giggle as they chirped away in Swahili. Don't have a clue what they wanted or what they were saying, but they thought I was pretty funny looking, I guess. Loads and loads of children. They all were heading to the school, but no one seemed to be on any kind of schedule that I could make out. I'm thinking structure isn't too much of a concern here.
I poked my head into the open space and yard that contains the three concrete bunkers placed in a U-shape... the school. Children everywhere, inside and out, going from one room to the next, wandering around, and chatting to each other. Was greeted by a few older students and I asked if a teacher was around. Nice man, looked maybe 20 himself, told me that they had 1000 students and 19 teachers. Not sure how accurate his numbers are, perhaps they see some students on one day and others on the next. Did not see any other teachers. He seemed keen to have me come and help. I smiled and nodded, he gave me his number and asked me to call so he could set up a meeting with the headmaster, I said I would have to see how things go on my "holiday". People talk. I am NOT working. I am here on a dive holiday. It was before 9am - I thought maybe school hadn't started yet. It looked like our schools at recess time.
Tucked the phone number in my pocket and made my way out. Didn't want to get sucked into anything. Continued to stroll through the village. Lots of smiles and hellos, a few clingers, but ignoring them sent them on their way, and more dirt encrusted children, not in school but sitting idly in small groups along the sides of the road. Maybe their parents were working, maybe they were in the houses or walking to get food, not really sure, but the younger ones clung to the older ones. Despite the dirt and dust, snotty noses, and tatters, they all seemed to be happy. They all waved and shouted their "bye! bye!" It was such a strange sight. Muslim village so all of the women were covered in beautifully coloured scarves (kangas). I felt rather undressed in my mid-calf capris and t-shirt but the thought of more clothing, even for the sake of fewer stares, was stifling. The sun bakes you, even at 8 in the morning.
One eager to speak young man who said he had finished school tried to answer some of my questions - said the kids to go school from 7 - 9am then head home for an hour tea break, come back to school and finish the day at 1pm. Didn't really fit with the number of children I saw heading to school and the timeline but then again, what do I care? Their schedule is their schedule. I'm sure they've got it worked out. He showed me the "clinic" which was essentially wooden benches lined with women and children waiting on who knows what and some of the "shops". Then he asked me for my silver ring and decided to move on when I said no. Wasn't the least bit surprised. Very casual, just thought he'd ask. Why not?
All of the people I passed, men, women, and children, were all so smiley and friendly but most definitely kept their distance. No one wanted to shake my hand or walk with me, some wanted to practice the few english words they know and shout out Swahili greetings, but other wise, it was just smiles and waves to the strange white girl cruising through town. Lovely, lovely, lovely. I need to head out there, much more often, to see if I can get some of them to cross that white man boundary. This is our home, that is their home. The division was painfully clear. I guess it will always be that way, a white man's business in an African man's home. I can't imagine how things must look from their perspective, how strange it must all be. I remember how much I loved being part of my little Thai town. Knowing faces in the market and my laundry lady and my motorbike taxi drivers... I was part of them. I don't think that will be an option here. But I will try...
My next big plan, to take local transport into "town", Chake Chake. It's where the airport is, I guess just a smidge of civilization, an hour away from here. Will plan to go soon and let you all know how it goes. Need to brush up on my Swahili greetings first, but want to head out and make a day of it as soon as I can. This place is amazing, but I can only sit still for so long. Coming up on a month here... unreal. Love you all. xoxo
Friday, January 22, 2010
Lonely Day
Since I'm having a bit of an "I'm lonely" day, I figured this blog is a handy little way to try to perk up those itty bitty blues. Feeling like I'm talking to home, telling stories, and catching you all up is a great way to feel connected. So where should I start filling you in?
Things I'm learning...
There is absolutely nothing I can do about the spiders, big and small, that roam around here. I've taken to sharing my space (more like jumping back and giving them their space) or gently encouraging my doggie friends to take note of the tasty little treat I kindly point out to them.
No matter how badly I smell, boys will always smell much, much worse.
Politics are politics and they are everywhere. Being asked to do something for several days then getting my fingers smacked for doing it voluntarily is just the way it goes. Smile and nod, then shrug it off. Everyone needs to feel that they are top dog some of the time.
Moody people waste a lot of their time being moody. This is definitely a western issue. I can't change them, no use in letting them bring me down too. My goodness it must be exhausting!
The second I sit down with my cool little laptop, I will be asked to do 17 different things by 17 different people. I've done 8 things so far...
Chocolate, when deprived of it for long periods of time, becomes the holy grail. Seriously. I need some chocolate.
I really, really, REALLY don't like dirty feet. I have dirty feel ALL the time here. It's driving me crazy!!
Swahili is easy but I'm an idiot.
Now on to... Tales from the deep blue...
Had a chance to do a couple more dives and got to finally REALLY experience some amazing sites, pain free, completely in control and comfortable. It's funny that I did my DM certification for the simple reason that I needed to gain some control over my fear of the water but somewhere back there, that fear still rears it's controlling and UUUGGGGLY head from time to time. First few dives tend to be rough and awkward mixed with minor bouts of panic; I think I had a tank with bad air one day as the surfacing migraine was blinding, but this most recent day, two dives in two incredible spots, was just... *sigh*... splendid. Absolutely deeeeee-vine!!! Describing the fish, the coral, the living mountains and changing seas is just impossible. You see so much, it's all so beautiful, and the feeling of breathing under water will remain out of this world. So instead, I will comment on the strange one or two things that may stand out. And there were a couple. (of COURSE there were!)
First dive, I was asked to stay with a relatively new diver at a relatively shallower depth while the working DM took a couple of other divers a little deeper down to look for whatever they might find (they were mostly looking for rays). Sure, no problem, kinda fun to be a bit of a guide again, and my little diver buddy was more than competent. 10 minutes into the dive, levelled off at about 20m, I look up and... jackpot! I squeal, scream, scooch over to grab my diver, and point up, jabbing emphatically towards the reef about 10m above and in front of us. "Look! Look! Look! Do you see? Do you see? Do you see?!" (yes, I have mastered the art of conversation with my regulator in). A good sized eagle ray was gracefully making his rounds above our heads. Underwater dance, fist pumps, and high fives as I shook my head and giggled a bit. I looked at the divers down below who missed the whole show. Sorry 'bout your luck kids.
Second dive, hmmm... a little more challenging and interesting. There are no distinction between dive sites and fishing sites here. Food is scarce so the locals need to eat by whatever means necessary. This, of course, wreaks some havoc with the diving community for a few different reasons. One, they fish in excess, obviously taking more than they would ever need or could ever eat (most reef fish aren't edible), two, they have no consideration for the very fragile coral and reefs, so much damage is done in the process of gathering their regular slaughter, and finally, the methods they use to fish are barbaric and unsafe on so many different levels. Case in point... swimming along, amazing site, clear turquoise water, fantastic reefs, TONS to see, and shhh... listen... I can hear the faint whine of a speeding motor quickly closing in. Suddenly a boat flies by overhead, despite our dive boat making it clear that divers are below and our diving markers are visible in the water. Our DM for this dive is a bit of a speedy diver so he was way off ahead of us somewhere, and three divers and I were checking out some pretty cool fish in some pretty cool coral. Somehow, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash, a glimmer, a something that causes me to turn my head upwards. Holy crap. An enormous net, and I mean ENORMOUS net, is dropping fast, directly over our heads. I can see the dumb fishermen, and yes, they are dumb, in their snorkels and masks, looking down at us as they continue to untangle the net so it covers more scoop and grab area, Not the least bit concerned that we may be the catch of the day. I discovered that I have a previously unused motor. Whrrrrrrrr... I swim over to my closest diver, grab him by his BCD (jacket thingy for diving), pull his head out of the rock he was looking under, point up to the net, do my gesturing to fin like the devil off to the side and give him a good shove. Whrrrrrr... off to diver number two, repeat, then diver number three and me. Heart racing, somewhat out of breath (these were three big boys I had to shove around), I look back over my shoulder to see the net continuing its slow descent. Oh. My. Gosh.
I talked to Raf about it when we were back on the boat. He was diving behind us and saw what was happening. Wasn't sure if I was overreacting, maybe nets get dropped over divers all the time, I was just panicking??? But he said nope, hasn't happened to him before, he hates the fisherman around here, good call on my part. "Good call" nothing! It was just GULP! we're gonna get caught in a net - I don't want to be on the menu tonight - get the hell out of here - gut reaction. Good times, good times, good times. Even diving in Africa, there is always some kind of drama! :)
It has taken me almost three hours to write this... I have done FAR more than 17 different things in the middle of writing this blog. Far more.
That being said, my battery is low so I have to go recharge it. Remind me to tell you about my stroll into our nearby village. Finally got to see a bit of Africa...
Things I'm learning...
There is absolutely nothing I can do about the spiders, big and small, that roam around here. I've taken to sharing my space (more like jumping back and giving them their space) or gently encouraging my doggie friends to take note of the tasty little treat I kindly point out to them.
No matter how badly I smell, boys will always smell much, much worse.
Politics are politics and they are everywhere. Being asked to do something for several days then getting my fingers smacked for doing it voluntarily is just the way it goes. Smile and nod, then shrug it off. Everyone needs to feel that they are top dog some of the time.
Moody people waste a lot of their time being moody. This is definitely a western issue. I can't change them, no use in letting them bring me down too. My goodness it must be exhausting!
The second I sit down with my cool little laptop, I will be asked to do 17 different things by 17 different people. I've done 8 things so far...
Chocolate, when deprived of it for long periods of time, becomes the holy grail. Seriously. I need some chocolate.
I really, really, REALLY don't like dirty feet. I have dirty feel ALL the time here. It's driving me crazy!!
Swahili is easy but I'm an idiot.
Now on to... Tales from the deep blue...
Had a chance to do a couple more dives and got to finally REALLY experience some amazing sites, pain free, completely in control and comfortable. It's funny that I did my DM certification for the simple reason that I needed to gain some control over my fear of the water but somewhere back there, that fear still rears it's controlling and UUUGGGGLY head from time to time. First few dives tend to be rough and awkward mixed with minor bouts of panic; I think I had a tank with bad air one day as the surfacing migraine was blinding, but this most recent day, two dives in two incredible spots, was just... *sigh*... splendid. Absolutely deeeeee-vine!!! Describing the fish, the coral, the living mountains and changing seas is just impossible. You see so much, it's all so beautiful, and the feeling of breathing under water will remain out of this world. So instead, I will comment on the strange one or two things that may stand out. And there were a couple. (of COURSE there were!)
First dive, I was asked to stay with a relatively new diver at a relatively shallower depth while the working DM took a couple of other divers a little deeper down to look for whatever they might find (they were mostly looking for rays). Sure, no problem, kinda fun to be a bit of a guide again, and my little diver buddy was more than competent. 10 minutes into the dive, levelled off at about 20m, I look up and... jackpot! I squeal, scream, scooch over to grab my diver, and point up, jabbing emphatically towards the reef about 10m above and in front of us. "Look! Look! Look! Do you see? Do you see? Do you see?!" (yes, I have mastered the art of conversation with my regulator in). A good sized eagle ray was gracefully making his rounds above our heads. Underwater dance, fist pumps, and high fives as I shook my head and giggled a bit. I looked at the divers down below who missed the whole show. Sorry 'bout your luck kids.
Second dive, hmmm... a little more challenging and interesting. There are no distinction between dive sites and fishing sites here. Food is scarce so the locals need to eat by whatever means necessary. This, of course, wreaks some havoc with the diving community for a few different reasons. One, they fish in excess, obviously taking more than they would ever need or could ever eat (most reef fish aren't edible), two, they have no consideration for the very fragile coral and reefs, so much damage is done in the process of gathering their regular slaughter, and finally, the methods they use to fish are barbaric and unsafe on so many different levels. Case in point... swimming along, amazing site, clear turquoise water, fantastic reefs, TONS to see, and shhh... listen... I can hear the faint whine of a speeding motor quickly closing in. Suddenly a boat flies by overhead, despite our dive boat making it clear that divers are below and our diving markers are visible in the water. Our DM for this dive is a bit of a speedy diver so he was way off ahead of us somewhere, and three divers and I were checking out some pretty cool fish in some pretty cool coral. Somehow, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash, a glimmer, a something that causes me to turn my head upwards. Holy crap. An enormous net, and I mean ENORMOUS net, is dropping fast, directly over our heads. I can see the dumb fishermen, and yes, they are dumb, in their snorkels and masks, looking down at us as they continue to untangle the net so it covers more scoop and grab area, Not the least bit concerned that we may be the catch of the day. I discovered that I have a previously unused motor. Whrrrrrrrr... I swim over to my closest diver, grab him by his BCD (jacket thingy for diving), pull his head out of the rock he was looking under, point up to the net, do my gesturing to fin like the devil off to the side and give him a good shove. Whrrrrrr... off to diver number two, repeat, then diver number three and me. Heart racing, somewhat out of breath (these were three big boys I had to shove around), I look back over my shoulder to see the net continuing its slow descent. Oh. My. Gosh.
I talked to Raf about it when we were back on the boat. He was diving behind us and saw what was happening. Wasn't sure if I was overreacting, maybe nets get dropped over divers all the time, I was just panicking??? But he said nope, hasn't happened to him before, he hates the fisherman around here, good call on my part. "Good call" nothing! It was just GULP! we're gonna get caught in a net - I don't want to be on the menu tonight - get the hell out of here - gut reaction. Good times, good times, good times. Even diving in Africa, there is always some kind of drama! :)
It has taken me almost three hours to write this... I have done FAR more than 17 different things in the middle of writing this blog. Far more.
That being said, my battery is low so I have to go recharge it. Remind me to tell you about my stroll into our nearby village. Finally got to see a bit of Africa...
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Habari gani?
Habari zenu? That's it. That's my Swahili. I suck. I know thank you and water, and my first important word... buibui (boo-ee boo-ee), yep, spider. You'll all be happy to know that I've managed surprisingly well (knock on wood) and have only had a few jumps and squeaks despite the nasty creatures popping up here and there and everywhere. That shadow monster in my room actually helped to put creepers into perspective... large man sniffing through my undies in the dark of an African night or an eight legged snickering spit on that I can throw my flip flop at. I guess I COULD have thrown my flip flop at the the shadow monster but the mess he would have left on the floor if I had killed him with my flip flop would have been significantly more than a smushed arachnid. Can you imagine??? Death by flip flop?! That would be hilarious! The ULTIMATE bitch slap fight! Wow. I think I may be losing it, just a bit. The point of the above ramble is, quite simply, I have managed to pancake quite a few good sized terrorists all by myself armed only with the heavy plastic of a beach shoe. I am very, VERY proud of myself. Thank you very much.
I have slipped quite nicely into the laid back life of Pemba. I think I may soon be crowned the local crazy. Seriously. There are 5 dogs and 1 cat here and I have full on conversations with all of them on a regular basis. I spend my days teaching here and there, helping out around the resort here and there, and don't really chat too much between the non-english speaking tourists and my dear, sweet students. So sadly, if I'm not using my teaching voice, I'm using my talking to animals voice. I am a nutjob. But it's the colourful ones that are remembered, right? Better to be remembered for the wrong reasons than forgotten about entirely.
Coming up on three weeks now and I'll have to make some plans to actually start doing something. I have not stepped foot off of this little compound. I've taught, at least a bit, every single day and been out to dive a couple of times. There are lots of fantastic places to see, all within walking distance, so time to get my ass up and moving. Plus, I have to be the first person EVER to come to Africa and gain weight!!! Are you freaking kidding me?!?! It's AFRICA! But yeah, our chefs are amazingly good cooks and the death of me... we usually don't eat dinner until 9 or 10pm! Full stomach then off to bed... hello fatty! *sigh* I've got to make some changes...
I'm sitting here, pretending to "not" be a teacher. Immigration has shown up, not sure why, and they are harassing all of us mzungus (whiteys). I have to pretend to be a guest and our divemaster is being interrogated because immigration (ahem, the joke that is) altered his passport but they are now denying that they did it and are telling him he has to pay money for staying over the time of his visa. It's fascinating to watch the corruption and bullshit here. OH MY GOSH! They just took his passport and said they will deal with it tomorrow, laughing and smiling, throwing out "no problem! no problem!" as they gangsta stomp away. Total pricks!!! And Brad is set to fly out in two days. What the hell?!?! Oh my gosh. To sit here and watch this, the absolute disgusting comedy of it all, the lack of any kind of policy or consistency, just give me money or I make your life difficult. Complete crap. Oh, and did I tell you that a regulator was stolen from the dive shop in the last couple of days? Expensive piece of dive equipment that belongs to a staff memeber. So I've been here, what? three weeks? There have been four thefts, a boat crew "strike", and now this immigration strong arm front. What can we do about it? Nothing. Standard response to most incidents or situations... "TIA" This Is Africa. *sigh* Not sure how one gets used to this. I'm not bitter, I'm not the white princess in black Africa, it's just a right and wrong thing that I know is different everywhere in the world, but I will never just shrug my shoulders and say "meh, whatever". Listening to Raf right now... "That's just Africa... It's F**ked." He's agreed to pay half of the $200US that immigration is demanding from Brad. $200US. Half a year's salary for a good paying job here. wow.
Today must be collection day or funds are running low in the local bank because earlier, three local elders from the nearby village came to talk to Cisca. They were part of the bunch who helped build this small pool they have here. They insisted that R & C have not paid up from all of the work they did on the pool... TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO!!! No paper work, no anything, just you owe us money. Rather than have this go on and on, a good chunk of cash was handed over to make it all go away. No one really knows if the money was owed or not, but at least the problem is gone. For now. Again, wow.
I'm amazed that any businesses last here, at all. But they do, and people carry on, and tourists still come, and money still flows so somewhere, somehow, amid the corruption and chaos and greased palms, it works. Who am I but the naive, wide-eyed, stumbling about observer just along for the ride? What a ride it is turning out to be...
Little bit of a funny... I've tapped into my primitive side since arriving and having my sense of safety forcefully violated. My first instinct as I watched those three puny punks saunter off with Brad's passsport was to grab my skull bashing stick that I keep in my room and show them what making life difficult really means. Not that I would EVER do anything unprovoked, but go ahead, provoke me. I dare you!
Remind me to write about the amazing people here one of these days, my sweet students with big smiles and the occasional lightbulb moments that make me feel like, if nothing else, they are happy to see me. They are FINALLY happy to see me!!! Whether or not it's all in my imagination, I don't really care. I think they're happy to see me and that makes me happy. As always, it will forever be about me. :)
Should go and shower - that sour milk smell that I'm pretty sure is me is starting to burn my eyes a bit. Enjoy your Sunday, my western world friends, and we will chat soon. xoxo
I have slipped quite nicely into the laid back life of Pemba. I think I may soon be crowned the local crazy. Seriously. There are 5 dogs and 1 cat here and I have full on conversations with all of them on a regular basis. I spend my days teaching here and there, helping out around the resort here and there, and don't really chat too much between the non-english speaking tourists and my dear, sweet students. So sadly, if I'm not using my teaching voice, I'm using my talking to animals voice. I am a nutjob. But it's the colourful ones that are remembered, right? Better to be remembered for the wrong reasons than forgotten about entirely.
Coming up on three weeks now and I'll have to make some plans to actually start doing something. I have not stepped foot off of this little compound. I've taught, at least a bit, every single day and been out to dive a couple of times. There are lots of fantastic places to see, all within walking distance, so time to get my ass up and moving. Plus, I have to be the first person EVER to come to Africa and gain weight!!! Are you freaking kidding me?!?! It's AFRICA! But yeah, our chefs are amazingly good cooks and the death of me... we usually don't eat dinner until 9 or 10pm! Full stomach then off to bed... hello fatty! *sigh* I've got to make some changes...
I'm sitting here, pretending to "not" be a teacher. Immigration has shown up, not sure why, and they are harassing all of us mzungus (whiteys). I have to pretend to be a guest and our divemaster is being interrogated because immigration (ahem, the joke that is) altered his passport but they are now denying that they did it and are telling him he has to pay money for staying over the time of his visa. It's fascinating to watch the corruption and bullshit here. OH MY GOSH! They just took his passport and said they will deal with it tomorrow, laughing and smiling, throwing out "no problem! no problem!" as they gangsta stomp away. Total pricks!!! And Brad is set to fly out in two days. What the hell?!?! Oh my gosh. To sit here and watch this, the absolute disgusting comedy of it all, the lack of any kind of policy or consistency, just give me money or I make your life difficult. Complete crap. Oh, and did I tell you that a regulator was stolen from the dive shop in the last couple of days? Expensive piece of dive equipment that belongs to a staff memeber. So I've been here, what? three weeks? There have been four thefts, a boat crew "strike", and now this immigration strong arm front. What can we do about it? Nothing. Standard response to most incidents or situations... "TIA" This Is Africa. *sigh* Not sure how one gets used to this. I'm not bitter, I'm not the white princess in black Africa, it's just a right and wrong thing that I know is different everywhere in the world, but I will never just shrug my shoulders and say "meh, whatever". Listening to Raf right now... "That's just Africa... It's F**ked." He's agreed to pay half of the $200US that immigration is demanding from Brad. $200US. Half a year's salary for a good paying job here. wow.
Today must be collection day or funds are running low in the local bank because earlier, three local elders from the nearby village came to talk to Cisca. They were part of the bunch who helped build this small pool they have here. They insisted that R & C have not paid up from all of the work they did on the pool... TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO!!! No paper work, no anything, just you owe us money. Rather than have this go on and on, a good chunk of cash was handed over to make it all go away. No one really knows if the money was owed or not, but at least the problem is gone. For now. Again, wow.
I'm amazed that any businesses last here, at all. But they do, and people carry on, and tourists still come, and money still flows so somewhere, somehow, amid the corruption and chaos and greased palms, it works. Who am I but the naive, wide-eyed, stumbling about observer just along for the ride? What a ride it is turning out to be...
Little bit of a funny... I've tapped into my primitive side since arriving and having my sense of safety forcefully violated. My first instinct as I watched those three puny punks saunter off with Brad's passsport was to grab my skull bashing stick that I keep in my room and show them what making life difficult really means. Not that I would EVER do anything unprovoked, but go ahead, provoke me. I dare you!
Remind me to write about the amazing people here one of these days, my sweet students with big smiles and the occasional lightbulb moments that make me feel like, if nothing else, they are happy to see me. They are FINALLY happy to see me!!! Whether or not it's all in my imagination, I don't really care. I think they're happy to see me and that makes me happy. As always, it will forever be about me. :)
Should go and shower - that sour milk smell that I'm pretty sure is me is starting to burn my eyes a bit. Enjoy your Sunday, my western world friends, and we will chat soon. xoxo
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Why is it that...?
Why is it that flies ONLY buzz around my face and head? It's one of the most irritating things I have ever experienced!
Why is it that the wind only blows my hair INTO my eyes? Even when it's tied back, I still look like a wild woman.
Why is it that my fingernails grow like weeds when I'm in the tropics? They only collect dirt here but won't grow for weeks when I'm at home.
Why is it that my cravings for junk food bring me to my knees here? I can walk by it in a grocery store at home without a second glance.
Why is it that I find it acceptable to smell like a wet dog living on the streets? This should NEVER be acceptable!
Why is it that I continue to find spiders the most repulsive things on the planet? I know they have a job to do but I really don't care.
Why is it that I'm the only one around who can only speak one language? THAT'S pathetic! (does my little bit of french count???)
Why is it that wherever you are in the world, there is always drama? Get over it already and just get along!
Why is it that I always want to be doing what I'm not doing. I want to be diving right now!
Why is it that I don't feel the least bit guilty when I sit here and pretend to look busy? I really should do something...
Why is it that the wind only blows my hair INTO my eyes? Even when it's tied back, I still look like a wild woman.
Why is it that my fingernails grow like weeds when I'm in the tropics? They only collect dirt here but won't grow for weeks when I'm at home.
Why is it that my cravings for junk food bring me to my knees here? I can walk by it in a grocery store at home without a second glance.
Why is it that I find it acceptable to smell like a wet dog living on the streets? This should NEVER be acceptable!
Why is it that I continue to find spiders the most repulsive things on the planet? I know they have a job to do but I really don't care.
Why is it that I'm the only one around who can only speak one language? THAT'S pathetic! (does my little bit of french count???)
Why is it that wherever you are in the world, there is always drama? Get over it already and just get along!
Why is it that I always want to be doing what I'm not doing. I want to be diving right now!
Why is it that I don't feel the least bit guilty when I sit here and pretend to look busy? I really should do something...
Saturday, January 9, 2010
When the grown ups are away...
Hi all!
Quick note to say I have slept well for two nights now, in my new room. The bathroom situation is one I will choose not to discuss, but I have felt safe enough to close my eyes and no longer see the shadow monster crouched at the foot of my bed. For now, life is chaotic but my nights are not spent on pins and needles. Everything is easier to take when you've had a chance to sleep.
We've had a couple of days with no owners, just Mac, me, and the dive crew. I've done a surprising amount of housekeeping since I've arrived but it helps to fill my days. Funny thing is, as much as I was worried about the safety situation with R & C being gone, the stress level has actually been reduced considerably without them here. Can't put my finger on it exactly, but there are more smiles all around and people seem to be more inclined to joke with each other a bit these past two days. Of course, of course when the cat is around,the mice will not play, but it has been interesting to see first hand. Things continue to run smoothly, jobs are getting done, but everyone just seems a little more relaxed. We'll see how things go once they return this afternoon...
Another bit of drama late last night as the outskirts of a cyclone brushed past our coast but nothing to lose sleep over. The boats were moved to a safer place and we had a bit of clean up to do this morning so overall, a minor alert. The fun just never ends here. Plus, the day has stayed overcast and cool - a nice bit of relief from the staggering heat, so maybe a cyclone every now and then isn't such a bad thing. (please pick up on the sarcasm, thank you.)
Teaching today was rather productive so I'm starting to feel a bit more encouraged. People actually came to join me when they saw me sitting with books. Quite exciting really. Don't care too much if they were simply avoiding work, all I know is that they weren't quite so scared of me today. Progess. I'll take it.
A little side note about teaching, especially when I am in a closed space or close proximity to my students, oh.my.gosh. the smell. the smell is... oh gosh... *gag*... the smell. Imagine the worst possible b.o. on top of the worst possible sweaty, wet shoe on top of milk that has been sitting out on a summer day, souring and fermenting and growing. I kid you not. Trying to hold one's breath and teach just doesn't work, so I've learned to turn my head and breathe in from the one or two clean spots of air and make it look as casual as possible. I have to admit though, there have been times where I've had to just move away. The heat is agonizing and of course deodorant and laundry soap are often non-existent or in low supply plus they often have to wear the same shirt (staff shirt) over and over again without washing it. If we ever run out of tear gas or chemical war supplies, we can bottle and sell it from here. **GAG** The saddest part of it all... I think I've smelled it on me once or twice. gasp!
So that's it. Quick entry to let you know that my sense of humor is slowly returning and I'm ready to keep fighting, for now. The "L" couple just left today for a week, the owners are back this afternoon, I have no doubt there will be more drama shortly. I'll let you know. xoxo
Quick note to say I have slept well for two nights now, in my new room. The bathroom situation is one I will choose not to discuss, but I have felt safe enough to close my eyes and no longer see the shadow monster crouched at the foot of my bed. For now, life is chaotic but my nights are not spent on pins and needles. Everything is easier to take when you've had a chance to sleep.
We've had a couple of days with no owners, just Mac, me, and the dive crew. I've done a surprising amount of housekeeping since I've arrived but it helps to fill my days. Funny thing is, as much as I was worried about the safety situation with R & C being gone, the stress level has actually been reduced considerably without them here. Can't put my finger on it exactly, but there are more smiles all around and people seem to be more inclined to joke with each other a bit these past two days. Of course, of course when the cat is around,the mice will not play, but it has been interesting to see first hand. Things continue to run smoothly, jobs are getting done, but everyone just seems a little more relaxed. We'll see how things go once they return this afternoon...
Another bit of drama late last night as the outskirts of a cyclone brushed past our coast but nothing to lose sleep over. The boats were moved to a safer place and we had a bit of clean up to do this morning so overall, a minor alert. The fun just never ends here. Plus, the day has stayed overcast and cool - a nice bit of relief from the staggering heat, so maybe a cyclone every now and then isn't such a bad thing. (please pick up on the sarcasm, thank you.)
Teaching today was rather productive so I'm starting to feel a bit more encouraged. People actually came to join me when they saw me sitting with books. Quite exciting really. Don't care too much if they were simply avoiding work, all I know is that they weren't quite so scared of me today. Progess. I'll take it.
A little side note about teaching, especially when I am in a closed space or close proximity to my students, oh.my.gosh. the smell. the smell is... oh gosh... *gag*... the smell. Imagine the worst possible b.o. on top of the worst possible sweaty, wet shoe on top of milk that has been sitting out on a summer day, souring and fermenting and growing. I kid you not. Trying to hold one's breath and teach just doesn't work, so I've learned to turn my head and breathe in from the one or two clean spots of air and make it look as casual as possible. I have to admit though, there have been times where I've had to just move away. The heat is agonizing and of course deodorant and laundry soap are often non-existent or in low supply plus they often have to wear the same shirt (staff shirt) over and over again without washing it. If we ever run out of tear gas or chemical war supplies, we can bottle and sell it from here. **GAG** The saddest part of it all... I think I've smelled it on me once or twice. gasp!
So that's it. Quick entry to let you know that my sense of humor is slowly returning and I'm ready to keep fighting, for now. The "L" couple just left today for a week, the owners are back this afternoon, I have no doubt there will be more drama shortly. I'll let you know. xoxo
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Still here, still alive, still unsure.
Sorry for the delay in updates. I'm doing okay and haven't been snatched from my bed or whisked into the African darkness; at least not yet. I spent the night after the robbery in my own room and the following three nights elsewhere. During the day, my head is clear, I can see how silly it all is, I rationalize how safe I am with the guards and new locks, then night falls and it all goes to pieces. Changes, they are a coming.
The first two nights after the sleepless night in my room, I slept on a couch in the S.African girls's room. Did I tell you that they are engaged? Cute little early 20 somethings. So Raf's diveteam consists of a lesbian instructor, her partner, who is doing her divemaster training, and a gay divemaster. He WILL start flying the rainbow flag soon. I'm curious to hear how staff is reacting to seeing me coming out of the "L" room at 6:30am for two days. Yes, I'm open to all kinds of new experiences here, folks, all kinds.
Yesterday was a busy day as a bigwig from the police on a different part of the island came to pay R & C a visit and do some investigating. It pays to have pull around here, apparently. While they were chatting, news via the local grape / gossip vine came in that some of R & C's paperwork that was stolen was found in the village somewhere. So they have recovered bits and pieces, some passports and ID, random things, but still lots to replace. One "suspect" has been held in custody since the night of the big robbery and they are apparently keeping him in for two more weeks. There was mention of some rubber hoses and being close to a confession, I didn't ask for details. The "justice" system here is a full on circus.
Regardless, Raf feels confident that the person who robbed me and then robbed them is one and the same and it is the one who is in jail. Matching footprints and playing CSI has been funny to see around here. He thinks that I have nothing to fear however I remind him of the followig each time he tells me that
1. they know there was more than one weasel involved in the robbery at his place,
2. they've only caught one and the other suspects are "missing",
3. people who know the guy who is in jail are angry with Swahili Divers and the way we have manipulated the police into jailing one of their own.
4. my place is still very poorly lit, with the front entrance being pitch dark, and
5. my closest neighbour last night was 4 huts away. too far to hear me scream.
Oh, and I did tell you that the suspects are guys who walked off the job the day of the robbery at R & C's, right? So this is all revenge motivated by angry people. Yeah, yeah, you're right Janice. Come stay in our guest room tonight until we can sort this out a bit. Gee. thanks. I think I will.
R & C left today to go to the mainland to try to replace the still missing passports and other things they need to take care of. Tonight, I will be moving into another room. There is a "staff area" where R & C's house is, Mac's (the GM)house, and two side by side rooms for the dive staff. The girls are in one and Brad, is in the other. Brad has offered to move to the dorm rooms tonight and I will be moving ot his room. I'll have lots of people around and the 5 dogs are up there too. It may be a bit of a shaky night, but it won't be nearly as terrifying.
I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous with R & C being away at this point. Mac is great, but he's younger than me and not the scariest of blokes. R & C have their Swahili, their weapons, their connections, and just their general presence. I'm pretty sure I'm the oldest staff member here right now and obviously I'm not going to be much help should there be another issue. There are concerns that this has all been an inside job, people watching and planning, so that means word is out that R & C are out of town right now. sigh. It may very well be another very long night.
So we wait and see. I'll give it another fair chance once I've moved into this room and try to settle yet again but if things continue on, I've come to the conclusion that yep, I'm all done. Silly or not, I'm useless as a teacher if I'm not sleeping at night and if I'm not sleeping at night for what I feel are legitimate reasons, then that's the way it rolls my friends, that's the way it rolls.
As for the daylight hours here, I can't really say too, too much. There will be no pictures to come as the bastard stole my brand new, very exciting camera. I know it's only a camera, I know it could have been WAY worse, but I really loved that little thing. Only used it once or twice too. Damnit. Not even really sure what the idiots are going to do with it because the battery was dead when the shadow monster stole it from my room and I have a feeling that the local village folk who are literally barefoot and living the most basic of lives won't have a battery charger. GIVE ME MY CAMERA BACK, A@@HOLE!!! Sorry. I'm moving through the stages. Today I'm pretty friggin angry.
The teaching piece is, for lack of a better word, dumb. I spend most of the day trying to chase down and drag the staff to either a quiet spot or an empty table. It's so different than the previous experiences I've had. I'm used to children who come running and screaming like it's gym class - "teacher! teacher!" or even my last position in Calgary where the women would travel for hours on transit two times a week just to get to their English class. Getting smiles out of these staff members is exhausting, getting them to come to even sit with me is disheartening. R & C really want them to learn so that it will give them better opportunities in their futures as in their villages, they have limited access to education, but to me, they really couldn't care less.
And it's hot. It's so hot. And dirty. I've lived and travelled some really nasty places, but I think I was pretty spoiled by the SE Asian way of life. Amid the filth and the stink, you would see the Thai people wake up every morning and sweep their section of sidewalk in front of their homes or stores. Everyone, everywhere, always sweeping and cleaning. Here, even the housekeeping girls can't be bothered to clean. There are lots of stereotypes and frustrations already being tested here. I have short little legs, I can't move that quickly even when on full speed, but I will go and get three girls, all of whom are taller than me, I'll walk as slowly as I possibly can, and I'll still get to my table, arrange and re-arrange my materials, get a drink, go for a pee, and take a quick nap before they actually make it down to me. And they have been moving the whole time. Slow is a whole other concept here.
I've had to do a lot of helping out with cleaning and arranging rooms. The process would take me all of maybe 45 minutes. For these girls, it's sweep, sweep, LEAN on the broom, sigh, stare out the window, maybe scratch here or there, sigh again, stare out the window a little more, adjust the wraps they wear to protect their clothing from getting dirty, LEAN on the brooms a little more, then repeat the process. I kid you not. Frustration, complete awe at the lack of productivity combined with skin-melting heat is just a ticking time bomb. I will snap soon and it won't be pretty. But R & C talk about it all the time. Since the started up here a decade ago, they bang their heads, yell and scream, show examples over and over again, yet nothing changes. I have seen all the staff, in all areas of this resort, choose to stand and stare and do nothing over any kind of thought process. Okay, I've finished this, but no one has told me what to do next, and yes, I have worked here for 10 months and know the routine, but noone has told me the routine TODAY, so I'm just going to stand here and stare. Seriously, coming from the lands of over-productivity, this has been painful to see. It's sad, really.
So essentially, the teaching has been shit. They keep telling me that eventually everyone will get used to me and be excited to come, I've yet to see anyone get excited about anything, education will not be the motivator. They talked about scheduling and forcing them to come... great. Not only will I be the strange, white english teacher, I'll be the cow who takes them away from their tea and break time. Forcing anyone to do what they aren't interested in doing never does go well. I do miss the smiles and welcoming nature of my last travels. This is an entirely different ball game here. And I'm on the losing team. We'll keep trying though!
Did dive number three today and it was lovely. Haven't been in the water nearly as much as I had hoped considering I'm only steps from the beach. It's more of a rocky beach and lots of nasty sea urchins so not the nicest of beaches but I do hope to get rid of the pasty whites sometimes soon. The diving is nice but haven't been out enough to really give it a fair grade yet. They are of course encouraging me to relax and enjoy, but I haven't been here long enough to experience much other than the down side of island life. Common theme... haven't been here long enough yet. Give it time, give it time, give it time. Plus, I should have a big ole bag of good luck coming soon I sure hope! All of my bad luck has been crammed into this first week of January and it's all sunshine and lollipops from here, right? Damn well better be right!
So anyway, just a quick little note to let you all know that I'm still working on making this work. I'll think of some fun little bits to share about life on Pemba in the next little bit. Hope all of you are well. Talk more soon. xoxo
The first two nights after the sleepless night in my room, I slept on a couch in the S.African girls's room. Did I tell you that they are engaged? Cute little early 20 somethings. So Raf's diveteam consists of a lesbian instructor, her partner, who is doing her divemaster training, and a gay divemaster. He WILL start flying the rainbow flag soon. I'm curious to hear how staff is reacting to seeing me coming out of the "L" room at 6:30am for two days. Yes, I'm open to all kinds of new experiences here, folks, all kinds.
Yesterday was a busy day as a bigwig from the police on a different part of the island came to pay R & C a visit and do some investigating. It pays to have pull around here, apparently. While they were chatting, news via the local grape / gossip vine came in that some of R & C's paperwork that was stolen was found in the village somewhere. So they have recovered bits and pieces, some passports and ID, random things, but still lots to replace. One "suspect" has been held in custody since the night of the big robbery and they are apparently keeping him in for two more weeks. There was mention of some rubber hoses and being close to a confession, I didn't ask for details. The "justice" system here is a full on circus.
Regardless, Raf feels confident that the person who robbed me and then robbed them is one and the same and it is the one who is in jail. Matching footprints and playing CSI has been funny to see around here. He thinks that I have nothing to fear however I remind him of the followig each time he tells me that
1. they know there was more than one weasel involved in the robbery at his place,
2. they've only caught one and the other suspects are "missing",
3. people who know the guy who is in jail are angry with Swahili Divers and the way we have manipulated the police into jailing one of their own.
4. my place is still very poorly lit, with the front entrance being pitch dark, and
5. my closest neighbour last night was 4 huts away. too far to hear me scream.
Oh, and I did tell you that the suspects are guys who walked off the job the day of the robbery at R & C's, right? So this is all revenge motivated by angry people. Yeah, yeah, you're right Janice. Come stay in our guest room tonight until we can sort this out a bit. Gee. thanks. I think I will.
R & C left today to go to the mainland to try to replace the still missing passports and other things they need to take care of. Tonight, I will be moving into another room. There is a "staff area" where R & C's house is, Mac's (the GM)house, and two side by side rooms for the dive staff. The girls are in one and Brad, is in the other. Brad has offered to move to the dorm rooms tonight and I will be moving ot his room. I'll have lots of people around and the 5 dogs are up there too. It may be a bit of a shaky night, but it won't be nearly as terrifying.
I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous with R & C being away at this point. Mac is great, but he's younger than me and not the scariest of blokes. R & C have their Swahili, their weapons, their connections, and just their general presence. I'm pretty sure I'm the oldest staff member here right now and obviously I'm not going to be much help should there be another issue. There are concerns that this has all been an inside job, people watching and planning, so that means word is out that R & C are out of town right now. sigh. It may very well be another very long night.
So we wait and see. I'll give it another fair chance once I've moved into this room and try to settle yet again but if things continue on, I've come to the conclusion that yep, I'm all done. Silly or not, I'm useless as a teacher if I'm not sleeping at night and if I'm not sleeping at night for what I feel are legitimate reasons, then that's the way it rolls my friends, that's the way it rolls.
As for the daylight hours here, I can't really say too, too much. There will be no pictures to come as the bastard stole my brand new, very exciting camera. I know it's only a camera, I know it could have been WAY worse, but I really loved that little thing. Only used it once or twice too. Damnit. Not even really sure what the idiots are going to do with it because the battery was dead when the shadow monster stole it from my room and I have a feeling that the local village folk who are literally barefoot and living the most basic of lives won't have a battery charger. GIVE ME MY CAMERA BACK, A@@HOLE!!! Sorry. I'm moving through the stages. Today I'm pretty friggin angry.
The teaching piece is, for lack of a better word, dumb. I spend most of the day trying to chase down and drag the staff to either a quiet spot or an empty table. It's so different than the previous experiences I've had. I'm used to children who come running and screaming like it's gym class - "teacher! teacher!" or even my last position in Calgary where the women would travel for hours on transit two times a week just to get to their English class. Getting smiles out of these staff members is exhausting, getting them to come to even sit with me is disheartening. R & C really want them to learn so that it will give them better opportunities in their futures as in their villages, they have limited access to education, but to me, they really couldn't care less.
And it's hot. It's so hot. And dirty. I've lived and travelled some really nasty places, but I think I was pretty spoiled by the SE Asian way of life. Amid the filth and the stink, you would see the Thai people wake up every morning and sweep their section of sidewalk in front of their homes or stores. Everyone, everywhere, always sweeping and cleaning. Here, even the housekeeping girls can't be bothered to clean. There are lots of stereotypes and frustrations already being tested here. I have short little legs, I can't move that quickly even when on full speed, but I will go and get three girls, all of whom are taller than me, I'll walk as slowly as I possibly can, and I'll still get to my table, arrange and re-arrange my materials, get a drink, go for a pee, and take a quick nap before they actually make it down to me. And they have been moving the whole time. Slow is a whole other concept here.
I've had to do a lot of helping out with cleaning and arranging rooms. The process would take me all of maybe 45 minutes. For these girls, it's sweep, sweep, LEAN on the broom, sigh, stare out the window, maybe scratch here or there, sigh again, stare out the window a little more, adjust the wraps they wear to protect their clothing from getting dirty, LEAN on the brooms a little more, then repeat the process. I kid you not. Frustration, complete awe at the lack of productivity combined with skin-melting heat is just a ticking time bomb. I will snap soon and it won't be pretty. But R & C talk about it all the time. Since the started up here a decade ago, they bang their heads, yell and scream, show examples over and over again, yet nothing changes. I have seen all the staff, in all areas of this resort, choose to stand and stare and do nothing over any kind of thought process. Okay, I've finished this, but no one has told me what to do next, and yes, I have worked here for 10 months and know the routine, but noone has told me the routine TODAY, so I'm just going to stand here and stare. Seriously, coming from the lands of over-productivity, this has been painful to see. It's sad, really.
So essentially, the teaching has been shit. They keep telling me that eventually everyone will get used to me and be excited to come, I've yet to see anyone get excited about anything, education will not be the motivator. They talked about scheduling and forcing them to come... great. Not only will I be the strange, white english teacher, I'll be the cow who takes them away from their tea and break time. Forcing anyone to do what they aren't interested in doing never does go well. I do miss the smiles and welcoming nature of my last travels. This is an entirely different ball game here. And I'm on the losing team. We'll keep trying though!
Did dive number three today and it was lovely. Haven't been in the water nearly as much as I had hoped considering I'm only steps from the beach. It's more of a rocky beach and lots of nasty sea urchins so not the nicest of beaches but I do hope to get rid of the pasty whites sometimes soon. The diving is nice but haven't been out enough to really give it a fair grade yet. They are of course encouraging me to relax and enjoy, but I haven't been here long enough to experience much other than the down side of island life. Common theme... haven't been here long enough yet. Give it time, give it time, give it time. Plus, I should have a big ole bag of good luck coming soon I sure hope! All of my bad luck has been crammed into this first week of January and it's all sunshine and lollipops from here, right? Damn well better be right!
So anyway, just a quick little note to let you all know that I'm still working on making this work. I'll think of some fun little bits to share about life on Pemba in the next little bit. Hope all of you are well. Talk more soon. xoxo
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