chunky milk

July 20th

I am currently in the no electricity age and so posts will be very sporadic.

Lindsay and I have been working on getting into the groove of living out here. We are currently mastering the cooking technique that dates back to the Stone Age. We aren’t too bad but it does take us quite some time. When I last wrote we were still living in the missionary hospital. We actually didn’t leave until late Saturday evening. The two or three days we were promised to be there turned into six.

We were told Wednesday’s were “Market Day’s” in Isoko. Lindsay and I didn’t teach too much during this first week. Wednesday was no different. Around two o’clock a car drove to school to take us home. All week the school has hired a Land Rover to bring us to school and drop us off at the end of the day. We didn’t ask for this and I would much rather walk but you can’t really protest. We got home and decided that we should find this market that everyone raved about. As we walked down the hill into the heart of Isoko we ran into a gentleman we met who works at the hospital. He introduced us to one of the pastors in the area. We explained that we were walking to find the market and the pastor graciously decided to escort us. We walked to the market very excited but were a bit disappointed with the turn out. There were three ladies working tables. The tables had tomatoes and onions and the occasional banana. Surrounding this market were either homes or restaurant type establishments. Some of the buildings became establishments for a butcher on market day. We saw a few pigs hacked open lying on the grass or on the table as we passed through. There were also a few bars assisting in the population of drunken men. After our first two minute loop, the pastor offered to buy Lindsay and I bananas. We were excited for the bananas but were very full after just finishing lunch at the school. We ate one to show we were happy but that was not enough for the pastor. After five minutes he started asking what was wrong with the bananas. We said there was nothing but he wanted us to eat them all! I was very stuffed and didn’t think I could eat anymore but we each managed a few more. As we were leaving the market he wanted to buy us each a soda at the last shop. When you buy a soda you must sit and finish it within the area of the shop because you must return the glass bottle when you are finished. Since I love soda so much I was very excited for more things to fill my belly. If only I knew what was to come I would have nursed and been grateful for the Sprite.

As we tried to leave the pastor decided to walk further with us. As we walked along the road and approached the turnoff for his house he invited us to his house. It is impolite to refuse an invitation to a home so we begrudgingly obeyed and walked up the hill to his house. He brought us into his home and showed us a photo album. The Germans who fund the Moravian church visit each year. A few years ago they brought a photo album to the pastor which he cherishes. He showed us pictures of his mother throughout and I thought the lady was deceased by the way he talked about her. Sure enough, ten minutes later the mother appears outside husking corn off the cob. We said hello and then she joined us in the house. She didn’t speak a word of English or Swahili so we had absolutely no idea what she was saying to us. We just sat, stared, and smiled at one another. As we sat we could hear the pastor running around preparing food for us. Sure enough, he appeared moments later with milk and yams/taro. I took a huge gulp of the milk hoping to satisfy them and tears came to my eyes. The milk was old… like chunks in it old. The taste was awful. Words can’t describe how bad it truly was. I decided to forget about the milk and dug into the yams. The yams were good but I was extremely full at this point. Add sour milk to the mix and it wasn’t a good combination. I threw up three times in the house and had to swallow it while smiling. The mother just kept on watching us. If I didn’t laugh I would have cried so I kept on laughing hoping she wouldn’t notice the distaste we had for the milk. We were so wrong. As soon as her son arrived in the house she made a point of it to tell him we weren’t drinking the milk! We explained we were so busy eating that we forgot all about it. I kept trying to put it off but they kept on watching. Lindsay dug in first and I followed close behind. It was awful. I reacted by putting my hand to my mouth to try to stop the vomit. Nothing came out of my mouth but they realized something was wrong. I just kept on smiling. Lindsay and I were eyeing to each other desperately. Lindsay decided to tell them how full we were and they finally backed off from us eating more. We escaped but it took a long time.

The pastor wanted to walk us home after we left his house. I wanted to get home fast. Unfortunately, fast is not in a Tanzanians vocabulary. We took the “scenic route” through two different villages until he finally said goodbye to us. At this point we were completely lost and didn’t exactly know how to get home without turning around. We decided against the turning around because then we would be back in the other villages where everyone wanted to greet us and bring us into their homes. Instead, we kept walking. Lindsay thought she spotted our house up the mountain and so we turned left and walked up the mountain through some crops. Unfortunately, we were not at our house, we were at another pastors’ house! This pastor didn’t speak much English though. We were again invited in. I took out my dictionary and started speaking in Swahili to tell him we were lost and needed to get home. We got up to leave and he motioned us to stay. We needed to be fed first. We didn’t know how to get out of it. Moments later his wife brought out some coffee. I don’t like coffee. This coffee was amazing though. The taste of sour milk finally left my mouth and the taste of sugar entered. Very refreshing. We eventually made it back to the hospital and were thankful to be safe.

After school on Thursday Lindsay decided to stay home and I went walking. I did manage to run into the pastor again and I took out my phone and had a ten minute conversation with myself. He followed me. Eventually we made it to the turn off for his house and he told me he had to go. I waved goodbye and kept on walking. I ran into a lot of people who all spoke either Swahili or the tribal language to me and I tried my best at responses. I got some high fives so I think I did a decent job! As I was returning home I ran into Philmore, one of the teachers, and a lady, Gloria, I had met with the pastor on the previous day. Philmore had to return home but Gloria continued walking with me. She is from Dar and is in Isoko working on youth empowerment. Her program is entirely in English and so we were able to have a semi-normal conversation which was a nice change from just Swahili greetings. Before we departed I found out she likes to play soccer and so I am hoping to get a chance to play with her one of these days.

After a short school day on Friday I decided to walk to Gloria’s house to see if she was up for some soccer. I was disappointed when she was not home so I continued to walk down the road. No one was playing at the soccer field yet so I kept walking planning my return for the moment there would be some people playing and I could join them. On my return about an hour later I was two minutes from the field when a truck load of guys start yelling at me. I was hustled into the front seat where a guy had his arm around me and kept telling me he loved me and I was to be his wife. I just smiled and shook my head no. He decided it would be funny though to start poking me. I didn’t care for it much. When he decided to stick his finger in my ear I clearly had enough and couldn’t wait to get out! The five minute ride to the heart of Isoko was grueling. I jumped out and pretty much ran home. As I briskly walked a gentleman followed me. At this point I had enough and just played innocent with my shoulders shrugged as I kept walking away. He followed me though. Eventually I found out that he needed to get into the building where Lindsay and I were living. He tried to stop by while I was away but I took the key so Lindsay could not let him in. After that eventful day I was looking forward to moving into my house the next day.

I will share with you the details about my new home in part two!

Love,
Gretchen