Our Growing Family

Last Thursday at 3 am (or “nine” in the evening, Swahili time) everyone on campus awoke to the same noise. Imagine what it would sound like if a seal was being strangled while giving birth next to a foghorn, and all of that was amplified through a loudspeaker inches from your sweet, slumbering ear. That’s kind of what it sounds like when a donkey gives birth. You can ask anyone here, because WE KNOW.

Of course, our lost sleep was (mostly) forgotten the following morning when we all went down to the donkey pen to see this new darling of campus, the baby of Winnie the Donkey and her mate, Santa.

A wise woman once said, “all baby things are cute.” (For the record, that wise woman needs to get on a plane bound for Kitongo, PRONTO. Love you, Rex!) In this case, I can say she is most certainly correct. The uncertain look, wobbly gait and incredibly soft fur of our baby donkey is totally cute.

For the past five days, we’ve all been enjoying our new friend. Meanwhile, there has been an ongoing campaign to name Winnie’s baby. So far, “Gertrude” has been the strongest contender, though the name may have been appropriated for another important purpose that this blog shall not seek to elaborate upon.

But with ears like this girl has, who cares what her name is? At any rate, you can see that Winnie’s baby is much-loved here on campus.

Welcome to the JBFC family, little one!

Village Night

Tanzania Bucket List, Item 33: Get invited to the home of a local family, and eat dinner with them.

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 Tracy, to join in the festivities.

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.

Dinners with Dad

One of my favorite traditions at JBFC is “dinner with Dad.” Every week, Chris invites a group of four to five girls up to his house for dinner. There’s a rotation posted in the dining hall, but no one looks at it because they all have it memorized. Dinner with Dad is a BIG deal.

When it was Salome’s turn, she was ready at 2 pm. We tried to explain the groceries for the evening’s meal hadn’t even arrived from town yet…but she was undeterred. “Ok, I will go wash my body,” was her response. Sure enough, thirty minutes later a freshly-showered Salome returned, ready to help cook dinner. So, she just hung out with us until the ingredients for pizza arrived.

We try to expose the girls to different types of cuisine when they “eat up” at Dad’s house. There’s been pizza…chicken and mashed potatoes…fajitas…and falafel night with hummus and pita chips. I was most excited about this last meal, but it was clear by the silence and “I’m trying not to gag” faces around the table that the girls were not as pleased by the evening’s menu. We’ll try again another time…

One of the recent meals was for our “little girls” in the group: Dotto, Bhoke, Rachel, and Yonga (left to right). And yes, I think that IS lipstick Bhoke is wearing.

As you can see, the girls were dressed in their favorite outfits and ready for a big night. It was one of the most fun evenings I’ve spent in Kitongo…there were tickle fights, hide-and-seek, and our favorite activity of all…dancing to Shakira! If only she knew how many loyal fans she has in rural East Africa…

Now that I’ve moved into the “Rock House” and have my own kitchen, there has been some campaigning for “Dinner with Julia” as well. I’m not sure I can compete with falafel night, but I’m thinking I can carve out my own niche with “DESSERTS with Julia.”

Stay tuned...

Heri ya Krismas!

Christmas By the Numbers:

One Mango Christmas Tree Branch.

Forty-seven stockings.

Three days of cooking.

Seven kilos of carrots, eight loaves of bread, seventy rolls, and ten pans of cornbread.

Thirteen sous-chefs.

Five girls to carry one (of two) pots of mashed potatoes.

Twenty chickens—blessedly pre-butchered for us.

Two ovens.

Fifty-nine satisfied diners.

All in all, it was a wonderful day. The girls looked beautiful and were beaming the whole evening. For some, it is their first Christmas at JBFC, an extra reason for us to celebrate.

There were squeals of joy and little dances of delight as they opened their stockings to discover stickers, bouncy-balls, mini coloring books, pencils, and “pee-pee!” (This means “candy” in Swahili).

A fun surprise…everyone sings when they open gifts! We enjoyed lots of singing as a bounty of gifts were unwrapped from friends in the US.

The girls loved the photo boards I made for each dorm, where they can display pictures of our special memories together.

After a delicious meal and opening presents, the girls gave an impromptu concert for us. Words simply can’t capture the joy one feels in watching these girls sing and dance…it was the best gift I could hope for in my first African Christmas.

Wishing you all “Heri ya Krismas” from Tanzania!

Julia's Saloon

I will always love Pendo for trusting me enough to do her hair.

Bucket list item number nine: learn to plait the girls’ hair.

As of two days ago, we can check this one off!

With 40 girls each needing their hair done every 5-7 days, I’ve had lots of opportunity to watch and observe various braiding techniques before trying it myself.

There was a complex logarithm for choosing my first hair “victim.” Pendo happened to be looking for a hairstylist when I was walking by with no pressing tasks, has hair long enough I felt semi-confident trying, and is young enough to foolishly accept my offer. Bingo.

Welcome to Julia’s Saloon. (Not a typo. In Tanzania, they’re called “saloons” not “salons.”)

Over the next two hours in two different locations (we needed a stretching break and I needed to keep an eye on dinner), I laboriously accomplished my mission. Of course, I had no fewer than seven on-lookers at any one time, most incredulous…then bemused…then halfway impressed at my braiding technique. (Thank you, years of marching band requiring French braids!)

Pendo looked beautiful when it was all done…

...so why has she been wearing a beanie for the last two days?

Farmer Julia and Fertilizer...

This beach bum turned African princess will soon be known as “Farmer Julia.”

I think Cal Poly would be proud to see me now!

This week, I learned to hoe. It’s planting season here in Kitongo!

School has been out since the beginning of December, giving us time to work on lots of projects around campus. A few days ago, I tilled two loooooooooong rows in one of our plots on campus. The girls followed behind, planting beans and sorghum in my wake. Not only is this a great way for the girls (and Julia) to learn new skills, but it will also cut down on JBFC’s food costs tremendously, helping us achieve our goal of financial sustainability. Plus, we get to be outside and sing. Awesome.

The most labor-intensive part of our planting work was moving fertilizer from our livestock pens to the fields. Of course, the girls have that figured out…

We transported fertilizer in old paint buckets…

…on a bicycle…

…and in a rickety wheelbarrow.

No one is too young to help, not even Yonga, age four…

We’re starting a garden competition soon, with Jackie as our judge. The dynamic duo, Kayci and Julia, will be competing against eleven other teams of two to see whose plot of land will be farmed the best. I’m thinking our toughest competitors will be Danny/Jackie and Chris/Mzee Kitula. It will take intense dedication, a few blisters, and a bedazzled pair of overalls to triumph over their intimidating combination of actual skill and farming knowledge.

But who knows, maybe I’m the farming equivalent of a pool shark. I guess they’ll find out, eh?

You know you live in Africa when...Part 1

...you overhear Chris say, "yeah, that room has never really smelled the same since the monkey lived here."

AND YOU KNOW HE'S NOT KIDDING.

For the record, I'm extremely jealous that I missed out on living with a monkey. Hello, my childhood dream coming true!

There's talk of getting a "bush baby" as a new pet. I'll keep you posted...