Let's go to the Funeral
When people saw my hair last week, most burst into laughter. They never thought braids could happen to a mzungu, with our slippery hair. The unfortunately named “Tuende kilioni” style (meaning let’s go to the funeral) was right on, as this week I attended two funerals. I think next time I’ll get the “Kilimanjaro” style, which involves your hair ending up on the top of your head like a mountain peak. There’s another style which is named something having to do with getting revenge on your husband’s other wife, but I can’t remember exactly what it’s called or what it looks like.

Maize and Beans
Most people cannot fathom that maize and beans did not come from Africa, as they are so much a part of life in the Southern Highlands. This week I had the students draw a rough map of the world on the board and had them guess the origins of the commonly-grown crops of Tanzania. I liked that I could shock them by moving the papers around on the board. They were surprised that beans and maize came from Central America, cabbage and sugarcane from Asia, and coffee originated in Africa. The only crop with African roots that is still grown in our area is cassava. Then we had a very ruthless competition, in which two teams of students had 10 minutes to collect samples of different native plants with uses for humans. They came up with about 20 different plants, with uses from stomach medicine to natural pesticides.

One thing I enjoy so much about Peace Corps work is the variety. My work in one week has involved teaching Mamas about the dangers of drinking while pregnant, teaching about the manufacturing industry to secondary school students, convincing women that birth control pills are used in the US (and are not poison that Europeans have forced upon Africa), leading a seminar on emotional support for orphans, and teaching English and permaculture. If only real jobs could be this varied.

A Young Composer
“Gailo will be so happy when her mother comes to visit! She will throw a party because there will be another mzungu in the village! We will come and drink soda!”
(A song, translated from Swahili, composed by Lightness, my 4-year-old neighbor, when asked what she would say to my mother when she visits. She was lying in the sand in my garden, a stuffed bear tied to her back like a baby, getting ready to go dig up sweet potatoes I planted early this year.)