We went on our last village visit today and it was another good one. Many members of our group had actually been working on finishing up the church we were at during this week. Today was the grand opening and the bishop of Morogoro came and everything.
A Typical Send-Off
The best part however, was when we were about to head out and someone ran up to our land rover and asked if we could drop off three women at their village on the way out so that they didn't have to walk. OK, sure, we weren't as crowded as yesterday so we'd squeeze somehow.
A couple women turned into an entire Masaai family! There were three of us sitting on the benches in the back (built for four very snugly) and all of a sudden we were being handed child after child. Then the two mothers got in, one with a toddler boy strapped to her back. When we were finally settled, there were eight(!) people in the back, and not a one able to breathe.
All of a sudden the back door opens again and one of the women starts telling an old man to get in. He was Masaai height, so well over six feet tall and elderly, and there was absolutely nowehre to put him back there. He starts crawling in anyway. Maybe he saw a free square inch of space and decided it was his. Where he saw it, I don't know, but I guess anything is possible. I started screaming at Grant to tell this man to stop because he was going to lose his footing among the eight pairs of legs and feet and go down hard on top of the children who were our top layer of people. Grant in turn starts yelling at the man "mzee, mzee!!" which is the polite form of adress for an elderly person here. We finally got him turned around and made him the fifth person in the middle seat (built for three).
So all in all, we had 15 people in that freaking car. About two yards into our drive, we hit a huge bump and every single one of us in the back hit the ceiling with our heads at full force, including the baby. From that point on I had my left arm wrapped around the little girl in my lap like a seatbelt so she couldn't fly up or anywhere else anymore, and my other arm wrapped around the mother so she would go towards me instead of the back door when we hit bumps, with my hand against the window so the baby's head would hit that rather than the glass (like I did for a half hour yesterday). The poor little guy's head was hitting my hand a lot. The full grown mother who I was holding on to was really cute because she snuggled right into my arm like the big brave mzungu (white person) was there to save her from all evil. I held on to them for dear life and thankfully was the only one hitting the ceiling for the rest of the many miles we traveled with them. The poor baby was scared to death though. He clung to his mother and would only make a tiny whimper whenever his head hit my hand. I'm sure he had never been in a car before and thought that it and the scary white people inside of it were there to eat him alive.
Dad, it was a good day at the auction. I wasn't able to find you any Father's Day stuff while I was still home, so I picked up a gift today. Good luck at your game tomorrow. Hope that hand and all of your joints are holding up. Where is that KC tournament this year anyway?
To close, I have now seen my first turantula that wasn't behind glass. Shireen was good enough to find it cawling on the floor in our home, and trapped it in a pringles can. We brought it in to show and tell at breakfsast and were surprised to learn that it was a BABY turantula. Could have fooled me because the sucker was huge. It was a lot bigger around than the pringles can when it had it's legs where it wanted them to be, and a very healthy amount of hair. We let it go by the dining hall and hope it lives a long and healthy life.
Our Furry Friend
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