From friendly to frighting in 3.5 seconds,
I had been warned about the tricks locals use to scam money from "Mzungus", but physically experiencing it was completely different, and if I'm being honest, a bit scary. A group of 7 of us girls were walking towards the Maasai Markets when a group of local men started being friendly. This isn't unusual, but my gut instinct started flashing red when 5 minutes later I saw they were still following us. Like clock work they surrounded the group. One in front, two behind, three walking on our left caging us in next to the fence. "You want Masai markets? We take you there." "No thank you, no thank you" we replied in perfect Swahili. but that just made them push even harder. "Yes we take you there. What you want to find? We find it for you." When we stopped with the formalities and said "No, go away and leave us alone," they started yelling and swearing, saying they hated us and threatening to hit us. They followed us all the way to the market and kept watching us as we shopped. The game is to trick people into into listening to their advice, then push them into paying a "guide" fee at the end. Our saviour came in the form of a bloke, a couple who we ran into who are friends with some girls in out group. As soon as there was a guy with us, they vanished. The bastards.
That aside, the Maasai markets were magical, intimidating, amazing, pushy, exhausting, overpriced and oh so cheap all at the same time. There is just so much stuff, and all of it is quite incredible but there's too much. Most stalls sell the same things, wooden hand crafted sculptures, jewellery, clothes, bowls, amazing hand made shoes, and paintings galore. Everything is so gorgeous, so local and so African, but most shops I couldn't even go into because the workers were too pushy. As I walked through the narrow overcrowded aisles, shop keepers would grab my arms and try to drag me into their stores. Personal space here doesn't exist like it does at home. In one shop I showed interest in some of the hand carved salad servers, decided against, and tried to leave. But the woman physically blocked me in and wouldn't let me go. She begged me to keep looking, keep looking, and I eventually had to use my whole body to push her out of the way so I could get out.
In one shop the worker was heavily pregnant and exhausted so she just sat in the corner and chatted. It was a huge relief so I spent most of my time in that stall, free to have a look without being forced to buy something.
I ended up buying two paintings, both different sizes but talked the prices down to 20 000 TSH each, about $15. A bit different to the 90 000 TSH they originally asked for. We've been advised that about a quarter of the original asking price is what we should pay, but bartering is just too exhausting. There were two amazing pairs of hand made shoes which in hindsight I should have bought, but the lady wouldn't go down past 45 000 for two pairs, while I knew other stores were selling them for 18 000 each. I eventually left not wanting to be "ripped off", only to later realise I'd walked out on an amazing purchase for the sake of about $3. It's easy to get caught up in the process, she needed that $3 more than me, and no amount of time in a third world country will take away my love for cool shoes. I might just have to go back. With a bloke.
I had a very entertaining conversation with the teachers on Monday, on the subject of dogs. Somehow it came up that we had dogs at home as pets. "So you keep dogs for security?" Lucy asked. No I explained, we keep dogs as pets, as part of the family. This seemed a bit confusing so she pressed on. "So what do they do for you?" She asked. I explained they keep us company and are good at cuddles, something she found hilarious. "So you buy dogs just to feed them and spend more money?" She asked. Do they have a room in the house? Are they allowed to use electricity? What happens when they sick, do you take them to the doctor? The concept just seemed completely insane to her. "Why don't you keep chickens and they give you eggs? Or why don't you keep goats and they give you milk?" She definitely had a point.
My dog (which I adore) lives in the comfort of heating and air conditioning, their school doesn't have electricity or water.
At around 11AM we have break and tea time. The kids have porridge (cornflour, sugar and water) and when the shops on our route to school are stocked we buy them bananas. The teachers have bread and butter and tea. Almost every tea time there are a few kids who come into the staff room / supply room where we eat. One of them chants this strange song in what I assumed was Swahili over and over again, constantly. Initially I thought it was cute until I noticed he didn't ever say anything else. When I asked the teachers about it they explained that it's good progress for him. When he started school 2 years ago he couldn't say a single word, not even mum or dad in the local language Swahili. He's now 4 and he's trying to talk, and making progress, but still can't communicate properly. The teachers say his chant doesn't mean anything in Swahili.
Little 2 and a half year old Calvin is another staff room regular, realistically he shouldn't be at school. He wants to be carried every second of every day, which I guess is quite normal for a toddler! For about a week I was really worried about him, he seemed sad all the time and cried whenever I'd put him down. When his brother came to pick him up one afternoon he clung onto me for dear life and bawled as soon as he was pulled away by his brother, who looks about 8. I thought he must have been sick so I spoke to the other teachers about it, they said he was acting. I was highly doubtful, those tears were so sad and so real. But then I started watching him when he couldn't see me. He was happy as Larry, playing, running and laughing with the other kids. As soon as I'd come into view he'd drop to the ground, stick out his bottom lip, pull on the tears and cry until I picked him up. Pretty funny actually, I'm just relieved he's not unwell! And who can blame a 2 and a half year old for wanting to be held.
Our teachers / school founders rent the 4 rooms that make up the Shining Star pre-primary school, but most of the children come from such poor families that they can't even buy them the basic exercise books and pencils, let alone school fees. So they rely on volunteers and donations to cover the rent. At the end of September, if the teachers couldn't come up with 100 000TSH ($65) the rooms would be rented to someone else and the school would no longer have a building. When I showed up to work this morning with 3 months rent in an envelope and the promise to contribute more when I leave next month, one of the teachers looked like she was on the edge of tears. Initially I decided I wouldn't donate anything in the form of cash because you never really know where it goes and it rarely ends up where you think it will but I'm a fairly sceptical person and yet I've learnt to trust my teachers 100%. I see how they stay back after school to teach older children who's parents don't let them go to school because they have to work, and I see them break up their bread at morning tea time and share it between the children so they don't go hungry. Plug: the more money I can raise, the more I can help them out and the more opportunities the children will have. We have new desks being picked up this week, a cupboard full of basic supplies they previously lacked and plans to take the kids on an excursion so they can experience something other than the class room, and it's all thanks to wonderful donations. I hope to cover 12 months rent and set up regular contributions. Here's the link to my fundraising page if anyone would like to help out.
http://www.gofundme.com/d5ttvc
The juxtapositions here are insane. Currently I'm sitting writing this in the dark because there's a power outage, something that is quite common here. Our showers are cold (most here don't have showers at all) our school has no electricity or water, and yet the taxis have in-built televisions pumping out modern pop film clips. While visiting the Maasai village, there was no toilets, not even holes in the ground, hydration came in the form of goats blood, and yet I had internet access though my local SIM card. Most people have mobile phones, even those begging on the streets for food.
There's such simple solutions for things here. When sharpeners go missing, you find something sharp and turn it into a sharpener. When the power goes out and the town is plunged into darkness as it is as I write this, you go outside, lay down and take in a magical sky filled with stars. Or you get out the battery powered speakers and turn the backyard into a starry dance party as we did tonight. You dance like you've never danced before because you know no one can see you. When you can't charge your phone you actually start getting to know people better. And when your hair is dirty and you can't wash it, you just cover it with a scarf and it feels clean again. You get to know yourself when you take out a torch and start writing a diary, or a blog, and realise how you actually feel about things, without being bombarded with hoards of other peoples opinions. How I feel is lucky. Lucky to have the opportunity to come here and lucky to meet so many incredible people; welcoming locals with new perspectives and ideas, children with a passion for learning and so much love to give, and volunteers with hearts of gold. I feel grateful to have grown up in with so many opportunities and grateful to my parents for working so hard for us. I'm grateful to the people here for letting me learn from them and grateful that I'm in a position of comparative wealth, so I can buy things for them. That may sound shallow but love is not enough when you can't buy food and shelter. I feel in love with this amazing country and culture and in love with a man back home who's supported me in every crazy decision I've made.
No comments:
Post a Comment