World Vegetable Center

Friday, February 15, 2019

The day started early for me, as I had signed up to accompany John on a field trip to the World Vegetable Center this morning. We needed to be at the Naura Springs Hotel by 8:15 to accompany others from the ECHO conference who were also going to the same site. When we arrived, via Ray, there was a crowd of people waiting to board buses for four different trips, but John’s new friend, George Mkanza, was also going to the WVC and asked if we’d like to ride along with him in his car, and so we did. George is a retired former bigwig with the Lutheran church here in Tanzania and drives a nice car with air conditioning. The AC was irresistible.

A fourth person, a woman from Sweden, but now residing in southern France, also rode with us. I never could find out why she—“I am Karen” (pronounced Car-wren)— was in this group, but she spoke a lot about how she had lived in Denmark, Italy, and now resides in France, and was often in Nairobi in the 1970s and 80s, when according to her it was truly beautiful. At WVC, she was quite forward in asking questions as setups for her opinions on a variety of topics. At one point, she announced that she has swum in all the oceans and seas in the world and thus is an expert on plastic pollution. She rode back to Arusha with us later, and I still did not find out why she is here. However, she did disclose that her tourist visa is expiring soon, so she is not working with any organization here.

The World Vegetable Center is a large plant research facility out toward Usa River. (https://avrdc.org/about-avrdc/new-locations/eastern-southern-africa/) This Tanzanian center is part of a worldwide network of centers which focus on breeding traditional vegetables to be disease and pest resistant and grow better in regional climates. On our tour, we saw laboratories where research was being done on combatting white flies, which have recently become a scourge in Tanzania. We learned  how indigenous plants, such as African eggplants (We called them “bitterballs” in Liberia.), nightshade, and amaranth, are being improved and reintroduced to the local farmers. Now 84% of the vegetable seeds planted in Tanzania come from the WVC. One of the buildings I liked best was the big seed bank, in which all the many seed varieties are  being safely kept for decades.

Workers in the extensive vegetable plots.

Conducting research on how to combat the white fly and other vegetable pests and diseases.

Raising amaranth, my new favorite vegetable.

At the seed bank. (The Swedish woman is behind me)

Seed packets which are supplied to farmers.

I managed to keep up with the group until the last part, a tour of the extensive crop fields and huge greenhouses. I could see much of this, but walking in the fields would have been too difficult for me. Instead, I sat in a covered shelter and read until it was time for lunch. Staff had prepared a very generous buffet of rice, African eggplant stew, red beans, fried chicken, chipsies, amaranth greens, bananas, and watermelon. It was all delicious, even the African eggplant, which, given my memories of eating it in Liberia, I hadn’t expected to like. The amaranth greens had a slightly different taste than the common plants used here, but the flavor was very pleasing, too.

I thought this was a large plot of tomatoes, but Dr. Dinssa told me these fruits are really African eggplants.

We know this as choroko, but they say they are mung beans.

Alt our table for lunch was Dr. Fekadu Dinssa, a seed breeder at WVC.  In conversing with him, we discovered that his oldest son recently graduated from Stanford and is now in Seattle working for Microsoft. Once again I was struck by how many of the people we meet in Africa have family scattered all over the globe.

Discussing amaranth with Dr. Fekadu Dinssa.

Lunch: the greens are amaranth and there is a small African eggplant in the stew.

By 1:30, George was ready to leave, so we loaded up and headed back to Arusha. Karen, who again chose the front seat, chatted all the way and had a way of touching George on his arm when she would lean over to make a point. Hum. We remained virtually invisible in the back seat all the way back to town.

Once back at Kundayo, we realized that John’s camera was missing. I remembered that he had picked it up from the table after lunch instead of letting me put it back in my purse. Obviously, he had left it on the back seat of George’s car. Thus began some frantic emailing to friends to get George’s email and so on. We didn’t get an answer from George by bedtime, so stay tuned.

I gave Mazo some of the literature I had picked up at WVC, and we had a good discussion about plants and gardening. He would have loved the tour we had, but the center isn’t open to the general public. They not only could not handle very many guests but also wouldn’t want the risk of people trampling around their experimental plots and maybe carrying in other insects or plant seeds. It’s a research center, not a demonstration farm, so I feel very fortunate that I was able to see this unique place.

Cake and Roses

Wednesday & Thursday, February 13 - 14, 2019

Once again on Wedbesday, John got up early to be on time for the first session of the sustainable faming conference he has been attending this week. The presentations start early and go late, so essentially John has been absent from our days here at Kundayo. Mary Lou was also gone almost all day. She teaches the albino women on Wednesday and Friday, but that is to be a half day; today she didn’t return until after 3:00 p.m. An unexpected tour group dropped by the workshop, and neither of the two English-speaking staff were there, so the women bravely did their best to explain their lives as albinos in Tanzania and the reason for their sewing project. Mary Lou was impressed how well the women did in spite of their limited English.

I had a wonderful solitary morning out on the garden terrace, reading, working on email, and enjoying the plants, birds and butterflies. There are some large butterflies, but they never sit still long enough for me to get their photos. Maybe I can succeed before we leave in March. There are also some fast moving lizards that I would like to capture on film.

In the early afternoon, before Mary Lou returned, Immanuel came with a tray of food from Mama. She had cooked a lovely stewed chicken and cubed and seasoned potatoes to share  with us. I wasn’t certain what I should do, as I was making spaghetti sauce for our dinner. However, the sauce didn’t taste as good as I thought it should. I had Mary Lou taste it when she got back. She made horrible faces. Still I couldn’t resign myself to dumping the sauce, so I had John taste it when he got home. He, too, made bad faces and said, “No. No. No.” So, I dumped the sauce, heated up Mama’s food, and we had an excellent meal.

Mama, looking regal as always

An unexpected gift from Mama.

Delicious chicken stew and potatoes.

Then as planned, I gave Mary Lou a signal and she went to the big refrigerator in Kundayo’s kitchen and brought out the large chocolate cake I had bought for John’s birthday yesterday. Naturally, John was very surprised. We sang “Happy Birthday” again, with the staff joining in and the cook dancing in the kitchen. The cake was delicious, and there was more than enough to share with everyone in the compound and still have a lot left.

The 2nd birthday cake was all chocolate and cream.

Mary Lou and John enjoying the cake. (I should have moved my teacup.)

Just after all of the birthday commotion, Mama drove back into the compound. She has been going out to her building site in Njiro every day to supervise some of the interior finishing work and pay the workers at the end of each day. She immediately came over to our terrace to find out what we had been doing. John told her about his conference, and I told her about the cake and the big piece I had put in her dishes when I returned them via Immanuel.  After a cup of tea, she excused herself and went home for the night.

When I awoke on Thursday, Valentine’s Day didn’t seem very romantic. It was the final day of John’s conference, so he was up and out the door before I made myself get up. My women’s bible study group was meeting at 9:30, so Ray said he would be here at 9:00 to make sure we got their on time. I had ordered 16 kitumbura to take as our—Mary Lou’s and mine—contribution to the light lunch following the discussion. However, none were ready by 9:00 as stipulated because the task of making them had been contracted out to a local maker. Immanuel called the person baking the kitumbura and was told they were on their way. So we waited, but when they had not arrived by 9:15, I started to think we would have to go to Plan B: cut up the leftover cake and take that. Just as I was beginning to slice, Immanuel got a call telling him the delivery person had turned into our street, so Mary Lou and I jumped in Ray’s car and met the man as we drove out to the highway.

Usually, I do okay with African time because truly one never knows what might happen to delay arrivals, etc. However, this morning, I was to be the discussion leader, so I was more mzungu in my concern about promptness than I would have been otherwise. So, imagine how surprised Mary Lou and I were to be the first of our group to arrive. All that initial stress about being on time now seemed very silly. Mary Lou and I set up for our meeting, and soon all the others in the group appeared.

The part of Acts we were looking at today was the story of the Ethiopian eunuch (Acts 8 - 40). It was fun to explain to the women what a eunuch was and why one would be such a valuable servant or government official. (Such a person would have no spouse or children to work for or try to enrich.) The fact that this person had gone clear to Jerusalem from somewhere far to the south (Kush) and then was required to stay outside of the worship in the temple (Deut. 23:1), was something the women hadn’t known. They also had never thought about that the eunuch may have chosen the scroll for Isaiah because of what is written in Isaiah 56: 3 - 8) In the end, what most impressed them was that the very first non-Jewish convert to Christianity was a socially marginal person from Africa.  Then, we looked a bit at the account of Saul’s Damascus Road conversion, which I wasn’t as enthused about as the eunuch’s story. From my perspective that story has too much magical realism in it, but the women here definitely take such scripture very literally.

After our shared lunch of bagia with a spicy yogurt sauce, chapatis, kitumburas, and bananas, we dispersed for another 2 weeks. I needed to go to FiFi’s to pick up a skirt I was having altered, and Mary Lou joined me in the taxi so she could get her skirt, too. Then, we had cold drinks before I went to Aly’s for a haircut and Mary Lou took the bajaji back to Kundayo. Aly was even more chaotic and disreputable than ever. His mother from Vancouver, B.C. had been here to visit him until this past weekend, so he had many tales about taking her to his favorite bars, etc. He’s Muslim and not supposed to drink, but he flaunts his waywardness. While he was cutting my hair, another very well-dressed woman came in, and Aly told me she was the “Princess” of his mosque. The woman who looked as if she was in her 50s told me that she was Canadian, from Toronto, but has been here for 7 years now with her husband trying to get the new Aga Khan university up and running. She made a very disparaging remark about the Tanzanian president, who seems to make all progress almost impossible. Aly had also told me that his business has been very badly affected by the exit of wazungu who have been forced to leave because they couldn’t renew resident or work visas. As he noted, each mzungu who is forced out means that more Tanzanians are unemployed. These are not good days for many.

After leaving Aly’s, I hailed a bajaji and enjoyed a different kind of ride back to Kundayo. Bajajis cost about a third as much as taxis do, but they aren’t as safe, and I feel guilty for not using Ray. John had taken a break from his conference and was here to greet me with a beautiful bouquet of red roses and a Lovely Valentine’s Day card. The cards here seem very garish compared to most we would see in the States, and the inscriptions are often amusing. The sentiment in my card began with “ Love came by gushingly and mesmerized us with its sheen.”Further on it referred to “pervasive emotion.”  It’s a treasure.

Valentine's Day roses grown right here in Arusha.

Later, John returned to his conference for its final banquet, which we hope is better than the one he attended 2 years ago, when the music was so loud it almost blew off heads. Tomorrow, there is a field trip to the World Vegetable Program, which I plan to join even though we need to board the bus by 8:15.

Ktenge, Kuku, and Cake

Tuesday, February 12, 2019


Today was John’s birthday, the latest of many celebrated in Africa. I tried to do a count from memory and reached a total of 12 birthdays for him on this continent, and I probably missed some. This year, our celebration was muted because John was away all day at the 5th Biannual ECHO symposium on Sustainable Agriculture and Appropriate Technology (https://www.echocommunity.org/en/resources/d2ce8e1d-0aa3-42d7-80c3-9adadecbd3aa), and didn’t get back to Kundayo until early evening. Mary Lou and I were left to our own devices to figure out what to do and how to get it done.

Just before noon, I saw Mama Kundayo, all dressed up, sitting outside and went to chat with her. She was wearing a ktenge outfit made with words from Psalm 121 on it, as she was going to attend a funeral at her church. As usual Emmanuel came to translate for us, and when he heard that it was John’s birthday, he said that Mazo was downtown and could pick up a cake for us. That was great! Not only would Mazo know where to get a decent cake, but he would also deliver it to us. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but when Mazo returned and opened the BIG box, there was a huge, incredibly decorated chocolate cake of the sort that needs refrigeration. Mazo said we could store it in Kundayo’s big kitchen frig.

Mama Kundayo's church dress..

Our Masai friends, Elizabeth and Ngaisi planned on being in Arusha again today for another pre-natal check up for Ngaisi. They are taking no chances with her since her first pregnancy miscarried. They had hoped to be at the clinic early, but around 11:00, Elizabeth texted that they were running very late. I tried to figure out how long they might be at the clinic and estimated it would be at least 2:00 p.m. before they could leave to come here. However, they still weren’t here at 2:30, so Mary Lou went over to the kuku na chipsie to buy one and a half order of chicken and chips in case they came soon and needed to eat quickly before catching their bus back to Longido and Mnanga. Just after Mary Lou returned, I got a text from Elizabeth saying they would be here in an hour. They finally showed up just before 4:00 p.m.

I had kept the chicken and chips in the oven and the table set, so we were all able to sit down and begin eating right away. Poor Elizabeth and Ngaisi were very hungry and thirsty. I was a bit worried that they would be disappointed that once again we were having kuku na chipsie, but Elizabeth assured me that Ngaisi only gets this meal when she visits us, and they look forward to it. Elizabeth also reported that Ngaisi likes our American ketchup more than other tomato sauces. The best news though was that Ngaisi is doing well, and her due date is April 8.

Another kuku na chipsie lunch with Elizabeth and Ngaisi.

We were eager to hear how the 50% off Easter and Halloween candy I had brought for Elizabeth’s store had sold. In the end everything sold very well, but initially there was a small problem with the black wrapped Halloween candy. Finally, Elizabeth gave away a couple free samples, and the little boys decided that licorice was good after all. Also, the individual packets of M&Ms which glowed in the dark caused a potentially serious problem. Elizabeth didn’t warn the mothers who bought these candies that they would glow when they were opened in the dark Masai houses, and the women were worried that witchcraft was involved someway. Elizabeth quickly assured them that these M&Ms were the newest American candy that she had accessed from a special ship. (When I asked Elizabeth why she hadn’t told the women that these M&Ms would glow in the dark, she said that if she had, they wouldn’t have bought them.) The bubblegum Easter eggs were a huge hit with Masai women, who discovered that they could bite off a third of an egg each day and have three days of chewing. (Masai women love chewing gum.) Once the gum ran out, the women asked Elizabeth when she would have more; she told them that she thought there would be another special ship arriving next January. We all had a great time laughing at Elizabeth’s stories, but she and Ngaisi soon had to leave to catch their bus back home.

Not long after our guests left, John returned from his symposium with his report of a day listening to all sorts of agricultural specialists concerned about sustainable farming in Africa. There were experts on fighting droughts, enriching poor soil, repairing erosion, and introducing new crops. I was most interested in the free packets of seeds that John gets at these conferences and had a great time learning about lablab and other crops I had never heard of before. Usually, I pass these seeds on to Elizabeth, so I’ll hold on to them until she and Ngaisi return March 14.

Soon after 7:00, I got the leftovers from our late lunch reheated for John. But, just as he had begun to eat some of the chicken and chips, Ray, Honorina, and Anita drove in. They had come to wish John a happy birthday and had bought a special cake for him. We hurriedly cleared the table, made tea, and let the celebrating begin. I stuck candles in the cake, which Anita then presented to her Babu. Then we lighted the candles, sang “Happy Birthday” to John, who blew out the candles, so I could slice the cake and hand out pieces to everyone. Then, while all of us were eating cake, Ray made a long rambling, semi-coherent speech thanking God for John and me and saying we would be rewarded in Heaven, etc. He even included Mary Lou in a pay-off in Heaven since she is giving time teaching English to the albino women.  After the Mtui family finally left, one half of the cake still remained, so I took it to the main building to share with the staff. They were very pleased, and even Mazo’s nephew, Sydney had a piece.

The very elaborate cake from the Mtui family.

Anita presenting the cake to John. Mary Lou, Ray, and Honorina are in the background.

The candle light jinxed my falsh.

Now, for those of you who are wondering about what happened with the big chocolate cake I had Mazo buy, stay tuned.  It’s still a secret hidden in the restaurant’s big refrigerator, and there’s always tomorrow.

Sydney, who is in 6th grade, with his math tutor.

Flowers and Visitors

Sunday, February 10, 2019

There were flowers again at church this morning. I was glad to see them again and hope there won’t be any more services without them. A young man, who I think was probably Greek Orthodox, gave the sermon. The only hint that he was orthodox was that he walked down into the center aisle to read the gospel. His sermon had almost nothing to do with the text, but it was okay anyway.

Once again, there were lots of visitors. Some have come to Arusha for the big ECHO sustainable agriculture conference which starts tomorrow. (John plans to attend.) Others were just visiting. One older gentleman from New Orleans had quit the climb up Kilimanjaro after 2 days and was having a great time exploring Arusha. During tea/coffee time after the service, I spoke with a woman who has a son, Nathan Ziegler, who lives in Peaceful Valley in Spokane. It was another small world connection. However, there was no connection for me with several Norwegians, whose English I couldn’t decipher. Nor, did I have much intelligible conversation with a South Korean couple, who may or may not be missionaries or mercenaries somewhere outside Arusha—or perhaps Alaska.

Tea and coffee after church.

Fashion queens

ACC was having its annual general congregational meeting. Everyone, member or not, was invited to stay for the meeting and the lunch afterward. John decided that he would stay, but Mary Lou and I took a taxi back to Kundayo. Then, since we were not going out to eat as we usually do on Sunday, we ordered our lunches from Kundayo’s kitchen. I ordered rice and beans with greens, while Mary Lou decided to be very adventurous and ordered ndizi and beef stew. The bananas are not those we get from Dole but rather green ones for cooking. My servings were normal, but Mary Lou’s stew came in a bowl the size of a small fishing boat. She’ll be eating it for the rest of the week!

Our Tanzanian Sunday lunch.

The remainder of the day was spent resting, reading, and visiting with folks in the compound. I wish we could live in a similar configuration at home. Unfortunately, the closest model I know at home is a retirement village, which is not really the same thing at all. In my next life, I intend to build a big, enclosed family/friend compound, where we will all have our own space but never need to be solitary and lonely.

Continued Romantic Drama

Saturday, February 9, 2019

This was another day in which I stuck close to Kundayo and did nothing at all very interesting until late in the day. Mary Lou, on the other hand, took off soon after 9:00 to explore more of the downtown and visit the German Boma Museum. Her later report featured several incidents of getting lost and wandering and making the discovery that most stores close at noon on Saturday. She ended up having lunch at FiFis, which she didn’t particularly enjoy, and then she took a bajaji all the way back to Kundayo. Without a doubt, she had had a pretty big adventure all on her own and looked hot and tired on her return.

Our day livened up soon after 4:00, when we went out to the Njiro Complex to meet with whoever else might show up to discuss beginning a book club at ACC. There were very few others present: Sharon Mkisi, who had just returned from a week of work-related travel; Terry Morton, who wants more social connections; and Mark and Cynthia Rich, who had driven in all the way from Usa River. John and I won’t be here by the time the group may actually start, but we gave some observations and advice based on our own experiences with 3 book clubs in which we have participated. I doubt that this new group will choose to read a book a week as my beloved Weekly Readers do, but hearing some ideas about how to select and balance the books they read could be helpful to them.

Eventually, we all ordered something to eat. Since John and I had had yellow lentil and chicken stew with chapatis  for lunch, we weren’t very hungry and shared a small mushroom pizza. It was the worst pizza I have ever had since my mother’s first attempts in the 1950’s. Those featured Bisquick dough, catsup sauce, and shredded cheddar cheese; this had a similar odd crust, a thin smear of tasteless tomato sauce, maybe 10 tiny bits of mushroom, and almost no visible cheese. I was so peeved that I made sure we ate it all to ensure we got our money’s worth!

Then, I went on a brief shopping stop at the Village Market Supermarket, which is an anchor in this mall, and bypassed the clotted cream, mint jelly, $14-a-pound cheeses, and lemon curd, to  choose some shampoo and small notepads. I also cheated a bit and got some sad looking bakery cookies because they only cost $1.10. We caught a ride home with the Richs, who passed right by our place on their drive back to Usa River. 

We had barely gotten back and out on the cool terrace before Mama Kundayo came with Beatrice in tow. She wanted to know all about where we had been, who else had been there, etc. After about 15 or 20 minutes of chatting with Mama, I ventured to ask Beatrice if I could ask her a question. She hesitantly said I could, so I asked if she was okay because we had seen the young man with flowers, and then she had been gone a day from work, so we were concerned. She was flustered, but after saying she was okay, she eventually revealed that the young man had indeed come to ask her if she would be his girlfriend. Mary Lou and I wanted to know if he was a nice young man with a good job, but Beatrice wouldn’t reveal any details about him. She said she was still making up her mind. We offered to interview him ourselves and give her our opinion, but she assured us that she will consider whatever she’s pondering and let us know what she eventually decides. So, while it seems that this is a romantic story, we still don’t know any details or what Beatrice is thinking about. The Big Question I have is why did Beatrice seem so upset by the young man’s attention? There must be a lot we don’t understand. So, stay tuned.

Our exchange with Beatrice ended our group chat.  Mama said good-night and went off into the dark. John and I read for another hour or so and then turned in ourselves. I finished the book I had been reading, “Sing Unburied Sing,” (I give it a 4.5 on a scale of 0 - 5) because I am not a fan of magic realism, which isn’t realism at all. Now, I have to decide if I will be good and read another book on the Weekly Readers’ list or find something else on my Kindle.

Edmund Rice High School

Friday, February 8, 2019


Today John had agreed to visit a secondary school at which one of our Tanzanian friends teaches. I only found out at the last minute that John had also agreed to give a one-hour lecture on African history with an open ended question session following. He chose the topic of the great Savannah empires from about 600 to 1600.  Gosh, that would knock my socks off if I were a high school student!

Anyway, John left at 9:30 to take a dalla-dalla clear to Shoppers, where there was a school car waiting to take him to Edmund Rice Secondary School, way beyond the African Heritage Cultural Center.  This is an excellent private school run by the Christian Brothers. Upon his arrival, he had the mandatory introduction to the headmaster and then was taken to the faculty “lounge” for tea.  He was also given an extensive tour of the facilities and grounds by one of the students, a girl who is an AIDS orphan. Not only are the grounds and buildings in wonderful condition, but also there is a large, thriving agricultural area with big greenhouses and irrigated vegetable beds as well as a cow barn and a pig shed. Being a farm boy himself, John was able to judge the animals as extremely healthy and well-cared for.

Mr. Panga at the front gate of Edmund Rice.

The administration building, which looks better than most government offices.

A view of the campus in the typical square formation of classrroom buildings around a green center space.

John's girl guide, who is an AIDS orphan.

The greenhouses and some garden plots. The vegetables are sold to help support the school.

Another garden plot. All are irrigated.

Nice Holstein cows.

2-month-old piglets.

The school is extremely proud that it is “abuse free,” which in this case means that the teachers do not beat their students. Corporal punishment is routine in most African schools, and far too often there are accounts of horrific beatings. Also campus art indicates that the school aims to instill a strong sense of social justice in its students.

Beatings are forbidden.

Notice the wide range of their heroes.

At 11:00, John gave his lecture and was very pleased that some of the students already knew a bit about his topic. The lecture lasted for an hour, and then there were questions for another 15 minutes. John had told me he’d be home about 1:30 at the latest, and he wasn’t. Instead, he had lunch with the teachers, and met with some students his friend Panga thought he should meet. One was a top student who has HIV, and now because of the newer drugs is able to manage it and continue her education.

The school kitchen with the fires blazing under the big cookers. It must be hotter than hell in there.

Firewood for the kitchen. No wonder Africa is becoming deforested.

The teachers' lounge looks pretty nice.

Finally, at 3:00, I called John just to check on where was and when he thought he’d return. He was still “in conference.” Not too much later, John called from Shoppers, where he had been dropped off and from where he would take another dalla-dalla back to Kundayo. He finally returned some time after 4:00 p.m. It was a much longer day than either of us had expected it to be, but John had really enjoyed it all, which was most important.

In contrast, my day was routine with lots of laundry and cooking. In the evening, the temperature dropped from the mid-80s to the mid-60s, and life got even better. 

Drama and Tourists

Thursday, February 7, 2019

This morning, John decided to go downtown to get a haircut at his usual barber there. It has been quite hot here for over a week, so John took a dalla-dalla instead of walking all the way. After the haircut, he walked to Rhusda to buy more of his favorite mango jam, which he consumes at an alarming rate while he’s here.  He also stopped by Dolly’s Patisserie to buy samosas for our lunch. Then, in a surprising change of routine, he took a bajaji (the covered 3-wheeler) all the way back to Kundayo. A bajaji ride is much cheaper—at least 60%less—than a taxi ride, and they are safer that the piki-piki motorbikes. So far, I haven’t used a bajaji  myself because I don’t want to betray Ray. Still, the cost difference is significant. (https://www.dpmco.com/en/product/three-wheeler/bajaj-re.html)

I spent my morning trying to stay cool out on the garden terrace. As usual, Beatrice, one of our concierges, greeted me, but she didn’t seem her usual ebullient self. Everything was peaceful and quiet until near noon, when I heard a young man’s voice saying, “No. I’m sorry. Please. No. I’m sorry.” over and over and over. I finally saw a young man exit from the front office area as Beatrice brushed by him and hurriedly went into Mama Kundayo’s private area. The young man kept standing near the entrance of Mama’s garden with a bouquet of roses in his hand. He stood there right in plain sight of all of us in the courtyard or terrace areas for a long, long time. Finally Beatrice emerged from Mama’s garden and the young man knelt in front of her making some sort of petition. (Some parked cars partially obscured our view!) Then, they rushed to the opposite side of our courtyard to Mazo’s office. John had returned home while this was happening, and like Mary Lou and me was very curious about what was happening. Yet, we didn’t want to embarrass Beatrice by gawking. While we three wazungu were positing all sort of scenarios, Beatrice and the young man emerged from Mazo’s office and walked right by us toward the outer gate. I didn’t see the flowers anymore and still have no idea what might have been going. However, I heard that Beatrice will have tomorrow off. (Stay tuned.)

Mary Lou and I were scheduled to be at the Albino Peacemakers workshop at 2:00 when a tour group was scheduled to stop by. We wanted to hear the presentation which Terry or Sister Martha makes to such groups and observe how the women interact with wazungu tourists. In keeping with African time, the group arrived over 30 minutes late. The 16 tourists and their Tanzanian driver/guide sat in usual sewing area, out of the sun—the women had moved their Singers out into the shade—while Terry talked about the causes of albinism, the unusually high rate in Tanzania, the social stigma, health perils, and the danger of being killed or mutilated for body parts used in magic. Then, the group was dismissed to interact with the women and buy the many different items the women sew. Mary Lou stalked about taking notes on which comments or questions in English were troublesome for the women, so she will have a great lesson for them tomorrow. The whole event was very successful, and the women made $180 gross. After deducting the cost of materials, overhead, and other expenses, each woman will possibly net $10.

Sauda moved her sewing machine out into the shade.

Just what you need to store toilet paper in your own outhouse or cabin.

I called Ray to come for the return trip to Kundayo. Terry rode with us to the Impala roundabout, where we dropped her at a dalla-dalla stop before continuing on to Perfect Choice Supermarket so Mary Lou could buy an enormous quantity of water, 10 10-liter jugs of water.
(I think the heat has addled her mind somewhat.)  Thank goodness Ray helped us carry all 10  jugs to Mary Lou’s door.

The remainder of the late afternoon and evening passed uneventfully. I was grateful to have leftover chicken and pasta to heat up for dinner, and John cooked some amazing fresh green beans. Then, as I should have expected, he fixed us vanilla ice cream and mangoes for dessert. Whenever he is the one to pick up groceries, he splurges on cashews and ice cream, both of which I deem too expensive to buy.