Sunday and Since

What a difference rain makes.  Ever since it began raining during the nights, the daytime temperatures have been much more bearable.  So, even though I feel as sticky as before, it is now a cooler stickiness and occasionally a breeze gives me the cooling effect of a swamp refrigerator.  I am amazed at how much more clearly I can think and how much easier it is for me to just move about.  Please, God, keep us in this weather pattern until we leave Zanzibar!

Sunday began pleasantly with cooler weather and everyone meeting at the Anglican cathedral for the 8:00 a.m. English service in the chapel.  As in 2012, the gathering was an exotic mix of worshipers from all over the world, from the Congo to Sweden and we 15 Americans.  I suspect the high church liturgy and Eucharist were very new forms of worship for many of our students, but they did well and after the service some said how much they liked the greater focus on worshiping God rather than  focusing so much on themselves and what God does for them.  I thought that was a very insightful critique of most of evangelical worship services.  After the service, everyone filed out and as they did formed a circle with each person shaking hands to the end of the line and then taking his/her place.  Then, when everyone was in place, the final benediction was pronounced.  It was a wonderful way to make sure every person greeted everyone in the gathering and was acknowledged as being a part of the whole group.

Best of all, we were all invited up on the terrace of the main parish building to enjoy tea and coffee and pastries provided by the African Anglican church ladies--who behaved just as officiously as American church ladies do.  This was really an enjoyable extra for us, as it gave us all time to sit and visit instead of splitting up immediately and going to our separate host families.  The students also had interesting conversations with others from Australia, Sweden, and other places, which I am sure they don't normally have after church services at home.  They are getting glimpses into a group of volunteers and private contractors who are very international and have professional lives that take them to many different countries and cultures.  I hope that this, too, will open their eyes to how vast and varied the world beyond America is.

Unfortunately, my camera had decided to have its own mechanical meltdown Thursday evening, so I wasn't able to take any photos Sunday morning.  Perhaps I can take a few next Sunday if the students decide to attend church again.  They are not required to do so, but several expressed interest in returning, while others said they'd like to attend the nearby Catholic church.  There are very few Christians on Zanzibar, so likely 99% are either at the Anglican or Catholic service on Sunday morning.   One can usually tell whether or not someone is Christian by noticing if a woman is not wearing a headscarf. Very rarely, a couple in which the woman's head is bare will get on a daladala, and I have seen four bareheaded women on our street.  However, this is so unusual that it's a bit jarring when I notice the lack of scarves or veils.

From the Cathedral, John and I and Megan walked to the Stone Town Cafe once again.  It's touristy but has very good coffee at reasonable price and a lovely shaded outdoor seating area.  I like the times we have to sit and chat without all the incessant intrusions of schedule and duties we suffer at home.  And, while John and Megan work out school and student issues, I get to people watch and even eavesdrop a bit.  This coming weekend Sauti za Busara, the very famous Zanzibar musical festival, is happening, so tourists from all over the world are pouring in. (www.bursaramusic.com)

This little man asked me to take his picture and then wanted some money.

Not long after we returned back to the house, loud wailing broke out, and we knew that Hamad's grandmother had died. We knew that she had had a stroke and was not doing well, so her death wasn't a surprise.  However, we didn't, and still don't, know a lot about the cultural behavior in such a situation. Fadhila was seriously wailing and weeping, so Amin drove her to the family home, where the grandmother was, and that was about the last time we have seen her since.  Hamad came back from the mainland, where he works, and then he, too, went to where the body was.  Muslims bury their dead within 24-hours, so the burial was Monday morning.  However, the children told us that their mother--and I assume Hamad--would sleep at the family home for three nights. So, we have been and will continue to be until tomorrow some time unofficial houseparents.  The two big boys, Amin and Marthad, take care of themselves, but the younger children get a bit wild when left all alone.  I had thought that the dadas would keep everything under control, but silly me.  With Fahdila away, the dadas, too, have gone semi-wild and skimp on all of their duties, including making our meals.  I am just about crazed after breakfasts and suppers of nothing but bufflo bread, chai, and watermelon.

Monday (yesterday), I had my first visitation of innards unease and stayed in all day until late afternoon.  About 4:30, John and I walked up the street to the neighborhood "supermarket" to see if we could find something to supplement our meals and settle down my churning stomach.  To our amazement we found some yogurt in with the frozen items, so we sneaked back home and hid in our room while we ate it.  My kinder nature had led me to buy some strange pastry nuggets to share with the children, who let me know this was not their favorite sweet but ate them anyway.  I was glad for the help in eating the stuff since I thought it was pretty awful myself.