it's shamba time!

Every time I say or hear that the word shamba the music to the electric slide begins to play in my head. Doesn’t it just sound like a wicked line dance?

Anyhow, it is officially shamba time here in Nakuru. The rains have arrived, albeit half a month late, and it is in the first five days of heavy rain that the community diligently labors to seed the fields. Get that corn in the ground, I say! I am stoked at the possibility of eating ears roasted in their husks soon—the crispy kernels are far superior to popcorn. Wednesday we held the meeting and award ceremony for first term’s closing day, notably also the first day after a true rain. It was not as well-attended as we had hoped. Reuben and the headmaster concluded that it was due to the necessary planting activities; I concluded that no one in their right mind wanted to listen to Reuben and the headmaster combine for over two hours of lecture in a building that is not well-ventilated. It was painful, folks. It probably did not help either that it was entirely in Swahili. : ) Regardless, it was thrilling to see our brightest students recognized, particularly the tiny ones who looked more bewildered than happy—most three-year-olds care very little about their class rank and total marks out of 500. I am even more thrilled, however, to share that our orphans were among many of the award recipients: Reinhardt and Brian ranked #1 and #3 in Class 2, Lillian ranked #3 in Class 5, and Sheila ranked #2 in Class 7. I felt like a proud mama…

Returning again to the theme of shamba, the heavy afternoon downpours have put a serious kink in my running routine. I am deeply searching for the motivation to wake with the sun to jog. It has become very difficult to do so, as after a month I finally am sleeping well {i.e. I have learned to ignore the crickets, geese, dogs and roosters—the beautifully loud cacophony of farm noises that waft to my location atop the hill from within the five kilometer radius}. Furthermore, I am convinced that there must be a native proverb to describe more eloquently my belief that the rain is doing something to me. I have unlearned so many habits and lost substantial, poignant pieces of common sense within the past week. One: it is dangerous to try to pull a broken adapter out of the socket when there is still a current flowing. Trust me. I got the shock and scare of my life. Luckily, when I tried to pry it loose earlier with a kitchen knife, the current was off. Yeah, I know, they teach you not to stick a fork in the outlet in pre-school. Two: it is also dangerous to attempt to attempt to change the water temperature while in the shower. That involves touching live, ungrounded wires while wet. Three: it is a gamble to go for a jog during a break in the showers. Mud is slick. It ruins sneakers and socks. And you are never really sure once you finish if it is mud or something less kosher that it is caked to your soles and smeared on your ankles…

That is a lovely olfactory thought to end with, right?

Our second team is landing right about now and will head to meet me in the morning. My jar of Jif is in transit! Stay tuned for an exciting week {thanks to Hope Camp} and the beginning of my adventures in Mombasa…

Love to you,

tnick

P.S. I am determined to find Internet with sufficient speed to post a photo in this town—fingers crossed that I will be sharing something beyond my written musings next week!