Misc. Thoughts Mostly About Chickens...

Some Tanzanians believe that you can tell time by what the chickens are doing at any point during the day. I know, however, that this is not the case- mostly because I own a watch. I have been told that the roosters crow every 15 minutes and hit the hour on the hour, in fact, they do not. The roosters got confused the other night, because the moon was very bright and they crowed from the 12 o'clock hour on until 2- before starting up again at 4 until 7. And I thought "Really? How could I possibly know what time it is based on this?" I also wonder how you know what time it is when the chickens are just pecking around? Or how about when what we have termed "Rooster Rape" is occurring, which happens to some poor hen throughout the day, what time is it then? I should say there are chickens everywhere, I mean everywhere, here. They are always scattering out of the road, in people's living rooms, or just pecking around somewhere and I wonder how do you know which chickens are your chickens? They do whatever they please, giving "Free Range" an entirely new meaning. Some of you (Reed), will be happy to now that I have started eating eggs since I have been here. However, I still don't really like them. But the chickens seem happy enough, and hopefully it will help me stay healthy. Some of the teachers asked me the other day if we have chickens in America (they ask about if we have this or this in America often- and don't seem to understand that we can get anything in America if we are willing to pay enough). I told then yes- that my parents have 10 hens. But no rooster, they were worried. They told me- " Sorry, your parents will need to buy a watch." I said, "Yeah". And then laughed to myself picturing my parents running their lives off how the chickens are behaving...

So my village thinks I am allergic to all types of meat, which I have found to be very convenient, as they bring me vegetables and fruits and eggs as gifts because they are so sorry I cannot eat meat. The orphan that lives with Juster, her name is Amelda (Spelling?), has sort of become my caretaker as well. She does all of the work at Juster's home in exchange for room and food. She is 12 years old but cooks beans better than any I have ever had. So I have taken up eating meals there- but she was very disappointed when my first meal there she had butchered a chicken which I took no part in. Once I explained to her that I would get sick- she now cooks beans for me and is very relieved that I did not eat the chicken. Overall, being vegetarian is very easy here. Amelda, now comes sometimes to clean my house, get me water, or run other miscellaneous errands. Juster will not let me pay her- but she is a sweet girl, who always bows to me and greets me with respect. (All the kids here bow or curtsy when they greet me- how will I ever go home with respect like that? Some people even kiss my hand and I feel like I have fallen into some medieval European lifestyle- except it is Africa.) Anyways, I am going to gift Amelda greatly for all the work she does for me.

Along those lines, I now own a cow. I am not sure how this came about. I woke up one morning and found it tied to my gate eating out of my compost pile. I know nothing about cows or even really how to milk one. I asked Juster what I should do with it. She told me, "Brie, Don't cut it." Apparently, momentarily forgetting the fact that I am a vegetarian and would never butcher a cow. Anyways, she is for milk, but I don't want a cow. So now she is owned by all the teachers to share and Simon's wife is looking after her care.

I went for a 10k walk the other day to visit another PCV. I walked that far through fields and farmlands, but once I got to the main road I did not want to walk the next 10 K. So I did something I would never dream of doing in the states. I hitched a ride for the first time ever. I should say that there are very few cars in this part of Tanzania and hitching a ride is the way to get anywhere here. Tanzanians hitch rides on everything: bikes, motorcycles, tea trucks, you name it there are multiple people on it. Transport is scary here- there are no seat belts, or if there are, there are too many people packed in to use them. Luckily, the roads are bad enough, you can't go very fast. Anyways, I say a nice land rover type car about to pass and gave them the "TZ hitch a ride sign" and they stopped. I thought briefly of my parents and how they would kill me for doing this- but TZ calls for different rules. Four big men in suits got out of the car- and I thought, "What am I doing? This is so stupid. I am going to get robbed and murdered... " but then I thought, "That is your stupid Oregonian way of thinking- this is Tanzania." So they took my bag and I got in. Turns out they were Pastors travelling to preach the word of God and all through the car were stickers reminding me that the blood of Jesus would wash away my sins. The only English they knew was proselytizing jargon. (And I will probably offend someone reading this- but I think it is common knowledge that I don't believe in organized religion. ) Anyways, they wanted to know if I had accepted Jesus Christ in to my heart as my savior, etc. etc. on and on. I said , "yeah, sure. Jesus seems like a good guy." And they told me it was the will of God that we had met there that day and told me how much God and Jesus loved me. Which I have no doubt at all about because it was a safe, quick ride, they were very nice, went out of their way to get me there and I did not pay a cent for it. In my book the love of God definitely caused that turn of events.