Fishbowl

I was writing in my journal the other day, and reflecting on the fact that everything here has begun to seem  impressively normal.  When I arrived, every sight, taste, sound, and smell seemed to be exotic.  Africa!  The word elicits ideas, romantic or otherwise, of a wild place, untamed, culturally alien, primordial maybe.  A different world.  But we humans are made to adapt.  Drop a Tanzanian in America and after 6 months they won't bat an eye at an interstate freeway or fast food.  Put yourself in Africa for the same amount of time and you'll be happily eating monkey brains like it's oatmeal.  Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating there.

But of course, it's when you think you've settled in that life starts throwing curveballs.  Yesterday I headed up to Kiuyuumbuyuni (Kiuyu for short- that word's a tongue twister for me) to help with an English training at a school there.  It's a very remote corner of Pemba Island; I had to take two buses for over an hour and then bike 20 minutes up a rocks-and-sand path to get there.  Quite a pretty area, actually.  But off the beaten path enough that almost no white people ever go there. 

About a mile from the school I rounded a bend, and in front of me were hundreds of uniformed children, stretched along the road as far as I could see.  The local primary school (an overcrowded one, from the look of it) must have just finished their day, and the students were all walking home along the side of the road.  The first ones stopped in their tracks, mutely staring at me.  I don't know how many white people (wazungu) they've seen in their lives, but I would bet it's countable on their fingers, if any at all.  As I reached the first group of them, a cry went up.  All of a sudden, they were all shouting, and a wave of little-kid screams spread down the line: "Huyo!!  Huyo!!" (basically means "that guy!!").  And as I passed them, the kids started running behind me.  Soon I had a giant procession of kids running behind me shouting shouting shouting.  I didn't know what to do other than keep going (I was late for my appointment).  I definitely had to laugh at myself about my situation- "How did I end up riding down this sandy road on an island in the Indian Ocean being chased by hundreds of uniformed children?"  I eventually reached the college, a haven of adults, who are maybe equally capable of astonishment as children but more adept at containing it.

This definitely was the most concentrated "fishbowl" experience I've had here.  Usually I'm happy to stop and interact with kids who are curious about me, but it wasn't really practical with hundreds of them at once, especially when their mood was bordering on hysteria.  And it was definitely a reminder that no matter how normal life here feels to me, no matter how "integrated" I feel, there will always be this basic factor of skin color that seperates me, making me an anomally to everyone here.  It's a factor that never quite goes away in any situation.

In other news, I had a very fun new years, visited Unguja (the main Zanzibar island), and got to show a Peace Corps volunteer from Kazakhstan around Pemba.  We swapped a lot of PC stories, and it was fun to show off where I live.  Guests are always a good excuse to do the fun things where you live that you never seem to find time for otherwise.

Pictures!

Alleyway in Stonetown, on Unguja Island

Ferries moored at Stonetown.  These are the nice ones that I ride between Pemba, Unguja and Dar Es Salaam (as opposed to the not-nice ones, which have a tendency to sink....).

Not sure what we're doing, but I think we're having fun.  Prison Island, Unguja in the background.

Giant Tortoise on Prison Island.

VSO buddies Les and Juanito join me for dinner at my house.  First meal on my new kitchen table!  And my Christmas present "butterfly" world map is freshly hung on the wall!

Pemba buddies hanging out at my place with Catherine, our visitor from Peace Corps Kazakhstan

Catherine meets the students at my college for a Q&A session and to teach some English learning games.

That's a fish.  Gettin' cut in half.  I buy fish from little stands like this pretty frequently.  Yum dinner! 

Visiting my friend neighborhood friend Omar (middle, with his brother on the right and father on the left).