Going Solo

All the Roald Dahl fans reading this will know that "Going Solo" is not an original title. But it is really appropriate. After several weeks of taking school buses, sharing taxis to save money and being in groups, I ventured out on my own. As I was walking down the dirt path from the school to the main road I was thinking of Roald Dahl. I wondered how many times I read it out loud to my son. Twice, I think. And then he read it several times, too. Dahl lived in Tanzania for a time as a young man, and wrote about his experiences here. As I walked, I kept my eyes on the ground because I was thinking of the chapter about the green mambo, a particularly poisonous snake. No one here has mentioned snakes, and I was not at all worried. But still.... Then a small plane flew over, and that was another reminder of Roald Dahl. What was the plane he flew for the Royal Air Force during WWII in Africa and in the Mediterranean? Tiger Moth comes to mind, and also Gladiators and Hurricanes.
My solo trip to town was uneventful. I rode a dala-dala, along with 27 other adults (yes, I counted) and a few babies and children and then knocked on the side of the van (which was about the size of the Ford Windstar I used to drive) to signal when I wanted to get off. I walked to a tingatinga shop (a particular style of painting) and bought something to bring back to the library-a sign that says "Karibu - Makitaba, " or "Welcome to the Library." I was excited to learn that the word for book in Kiswahili is ketab and library is makitaba. I learned these words when I lived in Iran! It was a reminder that Kiswahili owes much to Middle-Eastern and Arabic influences. I went to church, walked the the Clock Tower roundabout and got a dala-dala home, arriving at the school gate just as a downpour began. I waited in the gatehouse for about twenty minutes, then made a dash for my room when the rain let up a bit. In the past two hours we have had heavy rain and rumbling thunder, probably more rain than we get in a year at home. Perhaps the season of "small rains" has begun.

Now the birds are singing and the sky is blue, the internet connection survived the storm and I am feeling successful. I can hear that the buses are beginning to arrive, bringing back the boarding students. Soon the playground will be full of children, and they will begin to line up for the walk to the dorms. And so their week begins.