Done and done.
Recently, I had the pleasure of meeting Mama Kitula, the wife of our building and maintenance manager and mother of several students at our school. Following a warm introduction, she said to me, “karibu nyumbani.” For all the muzungus back home, that means “welcome to my home.” A few people have welcomed me to their home since I arrived three months ago, but I knew A—Mama Kitula definitely meant it, and B—I bet she cooks a mean chapatti*. So, with those two words, I was IN.
We made plans for the following week, and I began counting down to my Kitongo dinner party. As the day got closer, Mama Kitula also invited several of our girls and two "wageni" (guests) who were visiting JBFC at the time, Megan and
On the appointed day, Mama Kitula came to pick us up at the guesthouse late in the afternoon. Of course, we had been excitedly waiting for an hour. (Legit invitation to dinner AND chapatti…this is big news, people!) We followed her back to her home, about two miles away, as she greeted people along the way. It’s an honor for people to host wageni, so I think she enjoyed showing us off!
The Kitula hospitality was wonderful, and dinner was as delicious as expected…rice, beans, huge chapatti, two different preparations of beef, and hot chai. Mmmmmmm. We enjoyed the feast, as you can see!
Bhoke (to my right, above), clocks in at all of 40 pounds. Unfortunately, that night she became too full to finish her plate, though there were several willing parties to come to her aid. After pronouncing her disappointment at this turn of events, she promptly fell asleep at the table.
When the sky became dark and the stars emerged, we said goodbye to our gracious hosts. As we made our way down the road, we heard a chorus of “karibu tena!” Mzee Kitula and his wife, their children, nieces and nephews, and neighbors—who had all been present for our meal—were welcoming us back again.
We took turns carrying a very sleepy and increasingly heavy Bhoke all the way back to campus. I got the third and final shift, from the turn off the “main” road back to the girls’ dorms. As I gently put her to bed, guess who was suddenly wide awake again? I think we got played by a five year old. Well done, sweet child of mine.
Walking up the hill to my house, I could hear all our girls singing in the dining hall. The beautiful sound of their chorus followed me the whole way home.
All in all, it was a very special night I will remember for a long time.
*Chapatti: Tanzanian specialty, a cross between a pancake and a tortilla. Yum.
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