Pole…

-Sorry…

Yesterday I was kind of nervous going to our group training center (CCT) without any guidance. My mama had instructed me on what exactly to do, but I had no way of contacting any other trainees in my village to meet up and was not positive as to what the plan was supposed to be. That morning I was in our living room eating breakfast by myself when out of nowhere Amy (a fellow trainee) comes walking in. Apparently our mamas are friends and even she had no idea that she was being led to my house until she saw me there. We were both so excited to have someone to tackle the journey with. My mama gave Amy some chai and forced her to finish it while simultaneously telling her Haraka! (hurry) and Polepole (slowly). Her mama was planning on taking us to CCT until my mama talked her out of us and sent us on our way. We boarded the daladala which unlike the busses in Dar was more of a van, but they still manage to cram more people in than physically possible. I told the conductor to drop us off at Rombo as I took a seat on top of someone’s shrub. Don’t ask my why they had brought a shrub on the daladala or why it apparently got seat priority over me. We headed off with the conductor hanging out the sliding door because there was not enough room for him. After a couple of minutes I recognized our stop from the previous day but the driver showed no signs of slowing down. As we blew by our stop I asked, “Rombo…?” The random person across from me just gave me a sympathetic look and in the most sincere voice said, “pole…”

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On Tuesday we headed to Morogoro where our real training would start. I’m sure we created quite a scene rolling in on tiny dirt roads in our 50 person bus. Everyone was excited but also experiencing separation anxiety as the took group of Volunteers to their respective homestays. My group consisting of 5 of us was one of the last to be taken. We boarded the truck and headed off to our village. As we pulled into the first house we saw ducks in the backyard. I exclaimed, “Ducks! I hope this is my house!” and sure enough it was. I was sad to later find out that they don’t have names, but as far as I can tell they are not food…although I haven’t seen them since dinner. Hmm.

The following day (after hiking back to Rombo) it was great seeing everyone again and being around people who speak English. It was fun to hear everyones stories and the differences in the families. Some people were allowed to help their families prepare dinner while others like me were told not to. Some families seem to speak no English while others are perfectly fluent. There is even one volunteer with Canadian neighbors who offered him beer and Doritos. He took the Doritos.

My family has been awesome! My mama gave me a big hug as soon as she walked in the door! Also she calls me Jackie even though I did not mention it to her. I guess it’s official. My homestay brother has been helping me out as much as possible and most importantly keeping me updated on the Eurocup. Its not like an American home but, I was actually surprised at how nice their home is. They have electricity, a TV, and running water. The TV is left on all of the time. We eat meals around it, talk at night around it (well, they talk while I try to figure out what in the world is going on) and then leave it on when we are not around. I literally have never seen it off. Yesterday I took a shower using their shower. It was by far the coldest shower I’ve ever had. I’ve had showers when the water heater is not working but this was a whole new level of cold. I am convinced that they take the snow directly from Mt. Kilimanjaro and funnel it through the pipes to produce this water. This morning I was proud of myself for asking for warm water to take a shower with in Kiswahili. It looks like I’ll be taking bucket baths for awhile.