Today, Friday, was my day off and at the close of it I think I need to give new meaning to the “off” part of that phrase. I was initially recruited to the upper primary team to assist with the data entry, which meant that this part of the project kept pace with the med checks. I was also harnessed into doing the clothes wash, and others, realising that I was free, so to speak, helpfully gave me some of their washing. Actually, it was not too bad, amounting to a pair of sox and a tee shirt.

This afternoon was the upper primary assembly, and the team gets an introduction to each of the school’s departments. The children put on a performance, in this case with recorders and drums and a song or two, wich brought great hilarity to the assembled children, but passed us by as it was part Swahili and full of in jokes. Still, we were greatly amused by the side slapping, and the African drums were fantastic.

An important part of our day was a visit to the home of Ally, the eight year old boy whose education at the school we sponsor. We were accompanied by Julius, a teacher whom we also sponsor. Julius is our guide and interpreter, as the family had little or no English. Our pre-visit briefing acquainted us with the school rules around visits, and various dire warnings.

So, we were a little apprehensive when at 3.30 we piled into the school bus with Ally, Julius, and a swarm of children. The school has a large number of buses that radiate routes all over Arusha delivering children to their homes. The bus was jam packed, and in Australia would have broken any number of rules and regulations. The driver has the same casual approach to the road rules, even with his precious cargo, but I guess that is just the way it is here. Our trip was to Kijenge, a settlement closer to the main part of town. Alighting from the bus, Ally took us down one of the main streets where we competed with cars, bikes and trolleys for space on the road. Then it is a left down a dirt lane (the same as the street but narrower) which seemed to double as a drain. Left again and narrower still, until we reach Ally’s home, a tiny 2 room house – solid, but very modest. There is a single chicken in a pen and a tiny vegetable plot to help supplement the family’s needs. Anna was there, along with Grandma to greet us, proud of her very neat and clean home that accommodates some six people. We shared a conversation, asking questions with Julius interpreting and helping us. Anna is a single mum, she sings in the catholic choir. She works in a stationery store but wants to go to college to become a social worker. Grandma and grandpa are tailors. What we all found interesting was that Jen and I have already reached the life span of the average Tanzanian. Grandma was born in 1968!

Anna had bought some cup cakes and made some tea, which sadly came pre-mixed with milk, and I have been a black tea drinker since the days when my brother Tony and his wife Janet forced me, a 15 year old, to have black tea without sugar (during a time of enforced poverty when he was training for ministry). I tried a sip, but could not manage it. However Anna had made a chocolate birthday cake for Ally, which was very nice, and I don’t think I was over-effusive, so got away with avoiding the tea.  The difference in our life circumstances was pretty stark, but we could not fail to be impressed with the warmth of their welcome, and their heartfelt appreciation for the modest sharing of some gifts to them. They were thrilled to have some photos of our children.

Finally we have exhausted our time, and Anna shows us a short cut which is narrower, steeper, slipperier, and possibly even shorter. I had visions of taking another embarrassing tumble. It would have been impossible to hide the evidence, as it was pretty muddy. However we avoided that sort of disaster, and we made our way up to the Impala Roundabout, a meeting of roads and jostling needs for space and access to the narrow carriageway.

Our assignment is to meet up with some others from the team who are getting some tuition in African drumming. What a riot. The teacher was fantastic, and when he went solo, our bodies pulsed with the beat and rhythm of the drums. Until now, I had always thought I had a rather well-developed sense of rhythm, but it became evident that I and most of the others have nothing of the rhythm  required for African drumming. Still, in the end, we made a pretty good fist of it and had an extremely enjoyable hour for what would be the price of a coffee back home.

There were six of us, and we caught a dala dala back to Moshono. It was my, and Jen’s first ride. Luckily, or so I thought, the little bus was almost empty, and looked quite full by the time we piled in. However each dala has a spruiker whose job is to collect money as well as passengers. He seemed to think the bus was empty and by the time we left we had about 17 passengers, locked together in an odd sort of embrace. The ride cost us the princely sum of 400 shillings, or about 25 cents. We were disgorged about a kilometre short of our target so we had to trudge from there, with some of the team seemingly trying out for Olympic walking, with the rest of us puffing at the rear of the pack. It was getting dark so we were anxious to get home in some sort of light as we trekked through some narrow lanes pushed from all sides by banana trees.

We had thought our night would draw to a close at this point, and after dinner, it did for Jen, who retired to bed to write some letters and emails. After dinner, the rest of us retired to the Water Hole, the bar at the school gates. There was quite a gig there. One of the long-standing volunteer couples was returning to Australia, and there was a farewell. One of the school volunteers is a very gifted singer and songwriter, and she was belting out some songs, mainly R & B and some Country, a couple with a bawdy line or two and quite funny. Many of the crowd were getting a little happy with the cheap beers and it was a rollicking sort of evening.

And now, as Frank Muir would say, I reached a peak “and saw Tibet”. (Frank Muir and Dennis Norden of the BBC’s My Word radio show.) For the uninitiated … And so to bed.

It has been a most interesting day for a day off.

Cheers.

Now, what is it about rain and writing. It is absolutely pelting with rain, and again I am marooned in the kitchen, the power keeps dropping out, and the network loses connection. Sure hope this gets through!