Life at Amani

After just over a week I have fully settled back into life at Amani Center. The health curriculum is now in full swing and I have also taken on teaching English classes as well. The students are keen to learn about different health topics as most of them have never been taught about the subject formally – all they know is what they have heard from other people in the villages. It has been tough jumping right into teaching after being away for 3 weeks, especially since it is all done in Swahili, but the language comes back surprisingly fast when you are forced to use it to communicate.

It is nice for me because I live in a concrete block house just at the back of the compound near the other staff houses – which means that I only have about a 5 minute walk to the classrooms in the morning. When I am not eating with the students I cook using either a kerosene or charcoal stove, and have a small sink and counter to wash up dishes in. My house used to be a school house for the children of past volunteers. It was equipped to have a teacher living here also, so there is a bedroom and bathroom. The former “classroom” is now a large (and therefore sparsely furnished) living room. The place is a home away from home now, and I feel very comfortable here. My only complaint is the cold shower, every morning it is a test of wills to get under the shockingly cold water; hot showers are by far the creature comfort I miss the most.

I usually go to town once a week and on weekends. To get there it is about a 15 minute walk down a dirt road to the “main” road, which is also dirt. From the turn off I can usually walk about 5 minutes to a small village market area where a dalladalla (minibus) will be waiting, but sometimes it isn’t and then I keep walking until one drives by. On the way to town we pass through a huge cemetery, which is being used for funeral services about 9 times out of 10 that I pass it. This serves as a solemn reminder of the high mortality rate present in this developing country (or as my friend put it in his blog: ICD - Impoverished Cesspool of Oppression; he refuses to use the euphemism “developing country.” Not to worry, ICD is not a put down to the country; he places the blame entirely on colonial Europe). The bumpy dalladalla ride is then usually about 20 minutes (and only costs about 20 cents) to town depending on how often we stop, and then it takes me half an hour to walk to Gangilonga (where our intern house is). So on a good day it will take me about 1 hour to get there, but more often then not it can take 1.5 - 2 hours because of the randomness of life here – that is, the bus breaks down, someone decides to load some livestock/fish/vegetables/furniture/doors/rebar/car motors in, our driver gets in a fist fight with another driver etc. - use your imagination.

In Iringa I can use the Internet, buy food for my Amani house, see wazungu friends, and eat in a restaurant, among other luxuries. Not that I am complaining by any means; the other interns only get to come to town once every 2 weeks, so comparatively I am very lucky. So I have gotten to know and love both aspects of life in Africa, the rural and the urban. Even now I struggle to pick out things that would be interesting to write about because I am so used to everything here; it is amazing how easily strange things become normal. That is why I would like to put forward the request for any questions about life here, suggestions of topics you would like to hear more about, or any other comments in general. It is nice for me to hear from those of you who are reading this as it inspires me to keep writing and gives me ideas of subjects to explore.