The Donkey’s Water Breaks
Today I had planned to run 6 miles, finish a report to send to Joanna and then go to Micheweni with Lorenzo to make some friends and listen to what people had to say. But as it turned out, I hadn’t slept so well. Things kept waking me up. The generator was loud but that didn’t stop me from watching my new episode of Mad Men. Then I started to fall asleep and Hasina turned the generator off because the electricity had come back on again. Then a rooster, maybe and then the call to prayers, which came really early, it seems – maybe 4 am? I was really tired when I woke up. I started working at home on my report and ended up staying there for a long time because I was making progress and didn’t really need the distraction of the internet. Finally walked to the office. On the way an old man in traditional dress started walking with me and telling me about his career as a teacher and his views on education, class size, the need to learn English. He left me when we came to his destination. A few meters later – in the little business district that begins at the intersection between the road to Chake and the road that goes toward the PHL, a man, this time a local imam, asked if I wanted coffee. I said yes and asked how much. No, I invite you, he said, and so I chatted with him for a few minutes.
People always want your mobile number. Almost immediately upon meeting you they ask for it. Drives me nuts because it’s rude to refuse and yet all that happens is they call to say hello and after a few words the language barrier and the lack of shared context kick in and you’re just stuck there being their mzungu connection.
At the PHL I had a meeting with Saidi to review the top 3 candidates for the Team Leader position. Also got to chat with the two German doctors, Ben and Camila, about life, their work and the training their conducting this weekend. I had forgotten to bring water, so I ended up buying an orange soda from the little Coca-Cola fridge, which, alas, was almost depleted with only 3 warm bottles to choose from. When I was finished with my report, I left to get some lunch, having tried a few times unsuccessfully to call Lorenzo. I figured I’d eat and then stop by their house to see if he was around.
I had trouble finding that restaurant I had gone to my first day at PHL but then Ben and Camila drove by, stopped and dropped me there – just a few meters from where I had been looking. Had the usual lunch there – skewers of delicious grilled meet and chips with pili pili (chili) sauce.
Lorenzo, as it turned out, had been up all night because his very pregnant donkey’s water had broken the last night but she hadn’t delivered. Lorenzo spent the night checking for the baby’s heartbeat with his stethescope and reading up on veterinary medicine. They were worried; the whole birthing process should have taken no more than a couple of hours at the most and they couldn’t hear the baby’s heart anymore. The donkey didn’t have a fever and she was still eating, so they just watched her. So we agreed to postpone the trip until Sunday, after my return from Dar.
Instead of going back to the office, I spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with the family. Their house here is a real gathering place whenever they’re in town. People stop by constantly – family, friends, people from the community for impromptu meetings and advice. Lorenzo and Arafa seem to thrive on it.
