Finally, Serengeti – Day 8 (Hanga)

I woke up feeling just as lousy.  After a night of cold sweats, shivering, severe cramping and diarrhea, I didn't feel rested at all.  I took some more Advil, Cipro, and Immodium, and skipped breakfast to try to sleep some more.  Just getting up to answer the door when someone knocked was an exhausting endeavor, and I had to work to keep from getting dehydrated.

The plan for the morning was to head to the primary school run by the monastery to visit the kids there, and then go on a scavenger hunt in the market in Hanga town, pairing each boy up with a student or two to go and find things.  Here’s the list of the kids of things they had to do:


1. Buy a green vegetable
2. Buy phone minutes for Cassian (we are using his phone when we need to call home)
3. Photo with 3 animals and its name in Kiswahili
4. Buy Sandals
5. Buy Candy
6. Buy a lasso (kiondo fabric cloth) 7. Photo with 3 crops and its name in Kiswahili
8. Buy a tea sieve
9. Buy laundry soap
10. Photo in a classroom
11. Photo by “Welcome to Hanga” sign
12. Bonus – Your choice.

Extra points were awarded for creativity, bargaining with the shop owners, lowest price for each good purchased, and over all lowest amount spent.  Brian would announce a winner.
Unfortunately I felt too crummy to go to visit the school, or going on the scavenger hunt.  Although, Brian was kind enough to return with souvenir shirts he bought for my sons and I, which I had told him I was looking forward to getting.
I was very bummed to have missed the school.  I was particularly interested in seeing their solar powered computer lab.  Evidently it runs entirely on only solar power, though at the moment it isn't working.  The transformer was struck by lightning during the past rainy season, and they didn't have money to repair it.  Hmmmm.  Maybe there is a future project there for me…

When they got back, they told great stories of their adventures.  My favorite one involves a man who, excited to see the boys (and interested to see if they might give him some money) made an extended effort to befriend Justin.  One cultural thing that has been hard to get used to is that when some locals shake hands here, they tend to linger, touching your hand or arm for an extended time.  Justin’s new friend, lingered for a very extended time.  Justin was pretty uncomfortable.  One of the other boys snapped a photo they later dubbed "The Wedding Photo".

I spent the remainder of the day sleeping and taking a variety of pills to try and recover.  There was a young woman who was apparently in charge of the guest house where we were staying, and when the boys were gone and it was quiet, I could hear her singing almost continually as she did something involving water which splashed as she sang.  the floors were all tile, and the walls concrete, so the singing echoed through the halls and into my open window with amazing clarity.  It was the perfect lullaby.  I tried to record it but the mic on my iPhone didn't pick it up very well.

Later in the afternoon, the boys had a soccer match with the students from the secondary school.  They took along the leftover chocolate bars from the s’mores we had in Chipole, as well as some other gifts.  They said from the time they got it out and started giving the chocolate away, it was gone in under thirty seconds!

While the boys were playing soccer, I began to feel a little better.  I heard live music being played somewhere, so I decided to go for a walk to see where it was coming from, as well as to visit the market and see what goodies may be had there to take home as gifts.  I wanted to stay close to the guest house  in case my stomach changed its mind, and luckily the market in Hanga is right across the street from where we were staying.   I didn’t get very far though, because as it turns out the source of the music was a pub owned by the Hanga Abbey.  As I approached it, I saw the Germans there having beers with brother Patrick.  Patrick, by the way, is awesome.  He's a super-friendly, wiry little guy who is the principal of the trade school in Hanga.  I first met him in Dar Es Salam, and liked him immediately then.
Patrick insisted I sit down with them.  Then he insisted I drink with them.  I fought him off for a while, but he finally convinced me by telling me that they had a sweet wine that would help to settle my stomach.  He actually said it would “heal” my stomach, but I think he meant settle.  I’m not sure the wine helped, but it was tasty, and didn't appear to cause any additional havock.  After a short while, Fr. Angelo wandered up and joined us as well, and we all watched the sun set together.
Funny thing about the African sunset; it doesn’t really slip below the horizon as it does at home.  Instead, the sun seems to lower, hover over the horizon for a bit, and then just disappear just above the horizon!  How can that be?!  I am assuming there are some far off mountains that I cannot see but that the sun is dipping behind…

After the pub, I went to dinner- my first attended meal in 24 hours.  I managed to get down some rice and bread, and a small banana.  I didn’t feel great on it, but it stayed in.  Afterwards we came back and settled the boys, many of whom are at varying stages of the same thing I was feeling.  We dispensed some drugs and they all either headed to their rooms or stayed out in the common area for a card game.

Once they were settled, we met up with Fr. Angelo and another monk who was back on holiday from his seminary studies in Kenya.  He told me his name, but I cannot pronounce it.  He was a kindly old guy with a great voice- something like James Earl Jones with a Swahili accent.  We met in a pub owned by the monastery, and I was bound and determined to have a taste of the beer here.  Stomach be damned!

There are three major beer brands in Tanzania.  Tusker (a Kenyan beer), Serengeti, and Kilimanjaro.  I ordered water on account of my stomach, but with the promise form the others that I would at least get to taste what they ordered.  They were really nice about it, and each ordered a different beer so I could taste the range of flavors.  They were all decent- simple lagers that were delicious, if not memorable.  I think Tusker was the strongest, and my favorite.

Conversation meandered, full of stops and starts and breaks- not uncommon here.  Everything moves slowly.  I think it’s because of the heat or something- people move slowly to conserve energy or to avoid breaking a sweat.  Literally, most people move their body physically at about ½ the rate that we do back home.  It is hard to get used to, and I had to remind myself that they were ok.  I got back just before they cut the power for the night, and hit the sack.