I started to cry… which started the whole world laughing
“You would have given them doughnuts instead of a beating,” said a teacher as she took a break to rest her beating-arm.

“We’re beating them because they ran away from school. They ran away from school because they were starving. We don’t have any money or food for them. So we had to beat them. Now they won’t run away again. You would have bought them doughnuts.”

Then she laughs. This isn’t a cruel laugh; it’s the ever-so-common laugh that you hear when circumstances are so messed up or desperate that you have no other option but to laugh. Africa has taught me the art of this healing laugh. But this time I couldn’t laugh.

Bad things happen to good people
Why is it that 95% of all the people I’ve ever met who have HIV are unbelievably sweet, hard-working, and genuinely nice? My new friend, Dama (not her real name), invited me to her modest little house so she could ask me how long she could expect to live. She’s a widow who, four years ago, was “inherited” by another man as a second wife. Her husband tested negative, but seems to be supportive of her and was receptive of the idea of using condoms. Dama has shown no sign of giving up hope, and seems generally encouraged when I tell her that having HIV does not mean she will die tomorrow. She also cooked me some delicious pumpkin and gave me some bambarra nuts to take home. I had brought a gift of two eggs, but ended up smacking myself on the forehead when I saw the number of chickens running about in her courtyard.

On Friday I had HIV-testers come out to the village again. This time, 144 people tested, and 9 were positive. I was really encouraged by the fact that Dama came to me looking for help, and has decided to join our club of PLWHA (People Living with HIV/AIDS). Things are slowly changing.

Let them drink pombe
Tanzania’s first president implemented the idea of ujamaa, or “familyhood,” which instructs that development should be carried out in villages just as in the home, with everyone contributing to the projects in the society like one big jolly African extended family. It’s Tanzania’s flavor of socialism. Unfortunately, in my village, the idea that everyone should strain their backs for the greater good has somewhat been lost. Instead there is a bitter sentiment that arises for all the people who didn’t show up to make bricks or haul rocks, a cry for implementation of fines, and constant whining about who will bring the pombe (local brew) and when.

On Tuesday I went to help build up the village’s water intake. The men were cleaning out the existing tank, hauling cement, and whining about the lack of pombe. The women were piling rocks on their heads, transporting them to the intake, and whining about the lack of pombe. Apparently the priest had promised some pombe, but when I left the intake, a few people were still working, some were resting, and all were still whining about the lack of pombe. I sure hope in the end the pombe showed up. My villagers are completely up for this familyhood idea as long as it’s not a sober family we’re talking about.