Hairrrr

Numb bottom, tight scalp, hair all over the floor, 3 films watched consecutively and a reflection that I don’t recognise. All the result of me sitting for 5 ½ hours whilst I get my hair braded, African style! Warning this post contains pictures that may scare, disturb or insult friends; family or African people (who actually suit this hair) so click the little (x) now or forever hold your voice.

So let me start from the beginning, well when I say beginning I mean I’m going to bore you with my whole morning leading up to the big hair experiment (as I will now be referring to it) So my housemate Bekah is heading North to Kenya for a week to visit her Dad (very jealous, just saying) and I offered to drive her to the bus station as her bus was setting off early. (How early I failed to realise) So my alarm went off bright and early (well not so bright as it was still dark) and I actually felt very awake. I was a little nervous about driving, I mean I have driven before in Africa but this would have been my first time in the busy town. After a big long prayer and the thought of a cup of tea waiting for me at home the journey to town and back was a great success.

After a morning full of planning my maths lessons and more cups of tea it was time to wash our hair (sorry did I forget to mention my housemate Melissa was also getting her hair done) we had to wash our hair before we got our hair done as we would not be able to wash it for 1 week to ensure the braids would stay in. But seen as we are in Africa the water ran out just as Melissa had put shampoo in her hair. Thankfully there was a little water left in the kettle from my last cup of tea, we then created our own shower over the sink to wash out the soap. I therefore had to run over to another Missionaries house in my pjs (okay so I could have changed but the thought of putting clean clothes on before I’ve washed doesn’t sit right with me) so anyway I turn up at their house and their daughter (who is a student in my class) was having birthday party and there was only half my class and older students from my drama class there all to whiteness me walk shamefully through them all clinging to my big fluffy towel and slippers, red faced and stinky. (But hakuna matattah)

So I was finally washed, dressed and ready for our hair stylist Tracy to arrive at 12.00. We put a film on ready 27 dresses (love it) the film started and finished and still no Tracy. So here we have something called African time, in England we are so use to everything being at a certain time and always have to be on time. Whersas in Tanzania everyone is so much more laid back and isn’t so caught up on timings. Therefore, when arranging something we say is that English/American time or African time, if the answer is the latter you usually allow and hour here or there. That’s why when Tracy turned up 2 hours late it wasn’t a massive deal. So here we go she starts to separate my hair out and there’s no going back now. 2^nd film has started and we are onto Sister Act 2.

The pain of my hair being done was something that I was not expecting. Ouch is all I can say. When ever I see a little African child with braded hair I am going to make sure I appreciate it so much more now knowing the pain they have gone through to have them done (unless I am just being a big baby and it doesn’t bother them at all). Tracy was such a laugh and I was able to practice my Swahili out on her (fyi I have been focusing a lot on learning my Swahili this week ever since the embarrassment of Megan speaking so much at Massai market, but ill save that for my next post)

For some reason it was taking longer than expected so Tracy called in reinforcements so we welcomed Margret in too.

Third film went on and this time it was Legally Blonde (Tracy’s favourite by the amount of laughing she was doing) I was able to only listen to this film as I had braids all covering my face and eyes. (Not gonna lie it got pretty sweaty underneath there)

The film went off and after my 6^th toilet break the braids were finished.

I looked in the mirror and could barley recognise myself.

I don’t love my hair but I don’t entirely hate it either. It has certainly been an experience and I am quite excited about feeling a little bit more African and eager to try out different hairstyles with it.

What I have been up to

Jambo.

So on Saturday we got invited to go to Arusha, our nearest big city. It was an hour journey there and we passed the time with sing alongs, English car games (amazing), American car games (alright I guess, a glass of wine would have helped), a distraught toilet break for me (you can only guess what kind of toilet I had to use) and lots of snacks all being passed round.

my distraught trip for a wee, complete with a cool n soothe on my head from a poorly head ache 

We then headed straight for the Massai market; Masai is our local tribe,  (I haven’t joined yet don’t worry) I went round with my friend Megan, so as I told you all last time, we have a Swahili class every week, so you’d think we were all at the same level of speaking Swahili. Wrong. I saw right in front of my eyes Megan transforming from an English speaking American into a Swahili speaking American. Well I say Swahili but the little I know of the language she could have been speaking blooming Mandarin Chinese for all I know. The worst bit was the fact that the Massais assumed I also spoke Swahili so were speaking what I only heard as gibberish at me and all I could muster out was an apoplectic smile and turned my head before I could see their expression of pity.

After a quick lunch (by quick I mean eating chips 10 as we running out of time; not an attractive sight) we went to queue up for the cinema, yes a cinema in Tanzania, complete with popcorn and slush puppies. 

The film showing was James bond in which to be honest I was not initially a fan, however James Bond is 1) good looking and 2) he is extremely good looking so bring on the rest of the 007 collection.

Friday nights = movie nights and the film of choice this week was Nacho Libra, because we are in Africa and entertainment needs a lot of creativity, we all came dressed as Mexican Wrestlers. And yes those are nickers over our leggings. 

Despite the fact that I was profusely sweating and me vest top was so tight (even more so after my fifth portion of mexican food) that my tummy was about to physically pop at any given moment, it was a really good night. 

So we have a new addition to our family of teachers, Ive already introduced our delightful Dodger to you all and we now have a little puppy called Flash. Flash appeared in our garden about a week ago very yappy and so skinny his ribs were showing. The next day he was gone so we assumed he had gone back to his owners. 

A couple of days later he reappeared and stayed with us, we fed him cuddled him (well in all honesty I didn’t go anywhere near him as he could have had rabies or goodness knows what, oh I’m so dramatic) and he seemed to get on well with Dodger. We then found out he belonged to the orphanage behind us, however the lady in charge of the orphanage explained how the children there would torment the poor puppy and not look after him right. It was then decided that we should keep the puppy and bring him round to see the children once a week. 













I hate to be a martyr but I have not bonded as closely to the new puppy as much as my other housemates have due to the fact he bites me and I’m pretty sure he has given me flees but oooh well. Lol.

Swahili and Food

Shikamoo! 

Now only read that if you are older than me as that is a greeting of respect that you give to someone who is of a greater age than yourself.

If you respect my honor you can respond with Marahaba.

Now I don’t know about you but its kind on an awkward thing when you meet someone and your like ‘ hmm are they older than me or not’ for example the teaching assistants in our school. So I was pretty proud of my self for learning a new greeting and wanted to test it out, so I went up to the lovely Jacquie and Martina and put on my distorted Tanzanian accent and with a big smile belted out ‘ shikamoo’ after their initial giggling they informed me that they were in fact 3 years younger than me. I haven’t shikamooed anyone since.

I think the correct greeting for someone of a younger age would be Mambo which they would respond poa (my new favorite word as it is both positive and short thus making it extremely easy to remember) Mambo – How are you Poa – good

Francis

Each week Francis our Swahili teacher (who is in fact Kenyan) gives myself and the other teachers a half hour lesson. I’m not gonna lie its quite nice being able to go back to the student for a little while, it brings back memories of school and something inside me just wants to write notes to a cute boy at the back, unfortunately there is no cute boy at the back just my fellow female teachers.

Francis is a great teacher however I feel like I still don’t have the basics down. Such as ‘I am hungry’ or ‘where is the toilet’ (I go so much) or ‘do you sell English tea’ or ‘I am starving.’ Instead I have learnt Bwana Asifiwe (praise god) Mungu akubariki (God bless you) and Mimi nimeokoka (I am saved), which are all amazing things to know, but when hungry and desperate for a wee its not the best help.

That’s got me hungry so lets me tell you about some of the food.

So if you know me at all you’ll all know that ‘Holly loves food’ and will eat absolutely anything, with the slight exception of any foods with gluten. So in England not that big of a deal, everything that I couldn’t eat such as bread, cakes, biscuits etc. always had a gluten free alternative. Or an amazing mother and family that could cook me absolutely anything my tummy desired gluten free. When planning on coming to Tanzania I did not think it would be a big problem not being able to eat gluten seen as one their main dishes is rice. I love rice, so it isn’t a problem, however I have had amazing people coming up with great ideas of western meals I can have and because there are no gluten free products out here we have had to become inventive.

It was pizza night and our assigned head chef Megan was on duty making all the girls pizzas using a normal flour crust. I would have been happy with rice (okay maybe not) but I was in for a treat. I had been made my very own cauliflower cheese crust pizza topped with Italian tomato sauce, cheese and veg and I have got to say it was absolutely delicious. For once it was my other housemates wanting to eat my food, rather than me drooling over their floury meals. We all had a try and it was thumbs up from every one

Other times being gluten free is just darn right mean, take Saturday for example. We went to a lady called Melindas house, in which she opens up as a restaurant/tea rooms, it was a special treat for our friends birthday. So this stunningly breathtaking birthday cake comes out and for some reason I was sat directly opposite the person whom was slicing the cake up. I felt I was trapped as which ever way I turned their was cake being eaten, smelt, spat (when people were trying to talk as well as enjoying their cake) until the time came when somebody offered me there sparkly chocolate bit that were ontop of the cake. It didn’t look like much, but made a gluten free girl very happy indeed.

This is my plate compared to my friends plate hehe

 In addition to this day when the lunches were being ordered, I was told the soup was wheat free which was delicious and they swapped my ciabatta bread for a plate of chips. Get in.