Randoms

I haven't updated anything in a very long time for a number of reasons.
1. I have no laptop with which to update and intaneti costs me way too much money.
2. Not a whole lot has changed.

Actually, only two reasons. Classes started and there's just no way I can accurately convey what that means. Before we were white and it was a big deal, now we are white and it is a BIG DEAL. I've been called on three times in my 200-person lecture (no one else has been called on), and in my political science classes every time we talk about slavery or colonialism all heads swivel around and, as America's envoy, I'm forced to answer for several centuries of my country's sins. When I'm in a good mood the absurdity makes it hilarious, but sometimes I can't handle it and I miss anonymity something awful. This story comes to me secondhand, but in my friend Katie's African Political Thought class one of the professors was talking about what it means to be an Africa, or who is an African. He made a point of singling the two wazungu out and saying something along the lines of, "These people are trying to be African, but they never can be because they are not black." Katie passed her (white) friend sitting next to her a note that said something along the lines of, "And we respect their culture, but we're not trying to be."

WELL. The African girl sitting on her other side snatched that note up and furiously wrote, "And we don't want you to be. You pork."

The shock of being called "A pork" was too much and Katie didn't even respond, but the next time the class met that same girl passed her a note that said

To all you white bitches talking shit about Africa [sic]: You better sleep with one eye open or we'll practice our voodoo on you and you will be floating in the Indian Ocean. Signed, Black Ossama.

I, personally, think that they're both hilarious. That being said, the sentiment behind them is not, and while I'm sure a very small portion of the population actually feels that kind of animosity towards us, it's still mildly disconcerting. But I've made a point of not updating when I'm either ecstatic or depressed because even though I experience both ends of the spectrum daily, I don't think that journaling during those extreme highs and extreme lows would paint an accurate picture of what it's like to be here. Likewise, I posted those notes because that is one aspect of my experience, but certainly not the whole experience. And they're nothing to worry about, Mom.

I've got two roommates, they are both fantastic. My friend Sam has three roommates named Ernest, Milk, and Cha Cha. My friend Anders does not know his roommates' names, but he walked into the communal bathroom one day and one of them was air-drying post shower. Standing there, arms akimbo, AIR-DRYING. Quite frankly, that's basically a metaphor for greater Tanzania. Air-drying for twenty minutes when a towel would do just fine. I love this country.