Kuuliza si ujinga

A few stories from my first week at site:

-being near Ngorongoro crater, I was afraid there would be tourists everywhere. Actually I have yet to see another white person in my village. And the children there are definitely excited to see me. There's a certain house that I walk by on the way to the stores in the village, and every time I walk past it, a crowd of five children comes running toward me, calling "Shikamoo!" (a respectful greeting for elders). Then they take my hand and follow me into the village, occasionally rubbing my arm to see what white skin feels like, and looking at me with these big, curious smiles.

-everyone I've met speaks Kiswahili, but there's also a local language called Kiiraqw or Kimbulu. It's very guttural and sounds a lot like Arabic. I know a few of the greetings; every time I use them, people laugh and shake my hand.

-for the first time in my life, I have my own house. Although it often feels more like common properties. People are always knocking on the door, calling "Hodi?" (basically "Can I come in?"), or just walking in to see where I am. Most of the time this doesn't bother me; it's nice to have the company, and I'm just as welcome to "Hodi?" at their house as they are at mine. And will probably be given tea if I do. It does make it hard to learn things like cooking, though, as if I do something even a little wrong they'll ask to help me and will end up simply cooking for me.

-did you know that you can slaughter a chicken for dinner, have it sit in a cabinet all night, fry the leftovers in oil at lunch, boil the leftovers from that for dinner, and not get sick? (so far, knock on wood). The things you learn when you don't have a fridge. And I haven't slaughtered a chicken, but I have watched and plucked some feathers. If it were my own choice, I would probably be basically vegetarian here, but people keep cooking for me and I figure if I am going to eat meat, I shouldn't mind seeing it prepared.

-my house had almost nothing when I moved in--only a few buckets, a charcoal stove, a kerosene stove, a kerosene lamp, and some random furniture (fortunately including a bed and table). People have been awesome about lending things to me, from flour for ugali to pots and cooking implements. It's helping, but right now things still feel very temporary and disorganized. I did hang a map of the world, some pictures from home, and periodic table on my living room wall. So now I feel a bit settled in and I have something to point to when guests ask "where exactly in America are you from?"