On falling down in Tanzania

I woke up the other morning and panicked at the idea of leaving in LESS THAN TWO MONTHS, so I'm just not going to. I feel pretty good about it since it was such a gut reaction.

In other news, I was running around campus last week, as I am apt to do about once every 20 days (we'll talk about getting fat in Africa later - it's awesome!), when I rounded a corner and, quite literally, ran into our resident female baboon, who is a huge b****. We both stopped dead, and made eye contact for twenty seconds. Then I Macaulley Caulkin screamed, and the baboon Macaulley Caulkin screamed, and we both turned and sprinted off in opposite directions. I'm a little worried she might remember me, though, because my friend Hannah has been attacked by three baboons and I'm afraid that just can't be coincidence. The most recent attack ocurred when she was munching on some golden raisins, which we miraculously found in a grocery store, and as the baboon charged her with its formidable opposable thumbs, instead of taking steps to ensure her personal safety she shoved the baggie of raisins down her shirt and tried to make a run for it. She was looking over her shoulder wildly and running as fast as she could, but the incident ended tragically with some barbed wire and men waving sticks. Well, that's how I remember it.

Last weekend my friend Nate and I went to Sunrise Beach which is on Kigamboni, a tiny little island a ten-minute ferry ride away from city center. It was a perfect day, and the only people on the beach were us and some little Asian tourists (no offense, Leigh - it made me miss you all the more). The whole day went off without a hitch, until we got ready to board the night ferry back to the mainland. First, let me explain that there is no such thing as a "queue" in Africa. People here do NOT line up. If you try to line up for something, like say, Immigration Services, the post office, or the hospital, you will immediately be branded a tourist and you will never get anything done. So we've learned, we've adapted, and after too many buses leaving without me on them, I've learned how to throw 'bows with the best of 'em.

So Nate is relaxing on a bench while I'm huddled on the dock with about 4,000 Tanzanians, waiting for the officials to open the gate so we can charge the ferry in hopes of landing one of the 20 seats they have for the ride instead of having to stand for, oh, fifteen minutes. I've got my backpack on third-trimester style to avert pickpockets while I'm scoping out the competition when suddenly the gates fling open and we're off, like the running of the bulls. I'm sprinting as fast as my foot-long legs will take me and I'm gaining on some of the mamas with the kilos of rice on their heads, but in the pitch black of night I don't see the RANDOM CHAIN HANGING FIVE INCHES OFF THE GROUND that the Tanzanians somehow have the body awareness to avoid. I hit the chain hard and pitch over the top, soaring through the air for about ten minutes until I hit the metal floor of the ferry. Because the ferry allows vehicles but boards passengers first, there's basically a big bowling lane down the middle of it, and thanks to my backpack I skidded on my stomach like a penguin on ice for fifteen feet, to the shouts of "OH NO! MZUNGU FELL DOWN, MZUNGU FELL DOWN!"

There has really never been a more concerned crowd of people, and looking up and seeing the silhouettes of about ten Tanzanians standing above me and scratching their heads at my clumsiness was a beautiful combination of humiliating and hilarious. Fortunately, though, because they all felt bad for me and couldn't figure out why that crazy mzungu just COULDN'T SEE that obvious black chain in the dark of night, several of them offered me seats and I sat happily, munching a bag of peanuts for the ride.

I have to go to "class", but we've organized a sting operation to retrieve my stolen laptop later today. I'll let you know how it goes.