I've been to the Indian Ocean...

Hello everyone,

Yesterday the whole group of folks from the work camp went to the Indian Ocean to go swimming at Diani Beach, which is apparently pretty famous. The water was not only warm, but blue and beautiful. We went after spending the morning hiding from the rain inside the community school house where we were supposed to be working. One part of the work that we are supposed to do here during our stay is to build an additional building to house the more than 70 children who are enrolled in "pre-units". I think that that is the British term for pre-K, kindergarten and maybe 1st grade.
Unfortunately, however, since our work involved construction activities, we weren't able to do anything because of the rain, making the work day a wash (so to speak).
It's pretty amazing how much time it takes just to do basic domestic work like cooking and laundry. There is no running water, so the abundant rain has been helpful because it has allowed all 12 (now 13) volunteers to have a supply of water for our laundry and our "showers". The water collects in a barrel and various other containers placed strategically around the courtyard to catch the rain. We then take smaller containers or buckets out of there that we use to wash with.
The toilet is a hole in the ground with two blocks on either side of it so that one can stand over it at a reasonable distance. And, of course, there is no electricity.
So the women, who take care of everything in their homes, not only have to wash laundry by hand, and cook without any pre-made or frozen ingredients, but they also often have side projects to help them make money.
One woman in the community group, Mary, is a volunteer teacher in the school. Actually, all three teachers are volunteers. I went to her house the other day to borrow a hammer, and while we were there, she showed me her new economic project. She has built a small pool in her kitchen courtyard area where she is raising fish that she will sell.
Mary left her husband a while back when she was offered a teaching job in Tanzania, and he refused to let her take it. He was unemployed, so it apparently threatened his masculinity to have her earning an income while he did not. Now she is raising their four children on her own and teaching in the school.
Today I helped Zacaria, Zac for short, one of the local coordinators, to revise a proposal. When we had finished, we had lunch in a little place across the street from his book shop where we were served beans and chapati, a flat bread similar to a tortilla. He mentioned that there are 20 NGOs in the area where we are working, which is called Kwale, but the only one that seems to be producing visible results is a Dutch organization called Vikat (I think I've got that right) that has built many primary schools for girls around the area.
I'm enjoying my stay here, and I realize that coming as part of a group means that I have the option of spending more time with my young counterparts from the wealthy parts of the world, or with the local people. I'm trying to balance both.
Swahili is really different. There are certainly some words from Arabic, and I haven't tried learning the grammar at this point, but it just sounds completely unlike anything I'm accustomed to hearing, and it is kind of strange to have absolutely no linguistic points of reference when people are talking, although I suppose that my experience in Turkey a couple of years ago was similar.
Mombasa is an interesting place both because of its history as a trading center, and, consequently, as a place where different cultures came together and mixed, as well as because it is also a European tourist destination now. There is a strong Muslim influence, which is obvious in the pieces of the Koran that decorate the matatus (the mini-vans that serve as public transportation) as well as in the fact that women are supposed to be covered. In some cases, that means wearing veils that only show the eyes and wearing long, black robes. In other cases, it means just a hijab, a headscarf, and robes. Or it can also be a couple of very brightly colored congas (sarongs or wraps) that look SO African.
I wish that I had my camera since I feel that the disposable ones that I brought with me aren't going to do justice to everything I'm seeing.
By the way, have I mentioned that I totally get a kick out of trying to read the Arabic writing on packages in the grocery store and in other places? Today in the book shop I was looking at charts for children that showed different fruits, birds, etc. and had the names in both English and Arabic. I may have to get one of those....