Monday, July 26.

11:30 a.m.

I am learning their names. And personalities.

Annette. "Big sister" to the littlest kids, to the point of bossy.
Gilbert. Limit-pusher but is SO pleased when you praise him for following directions. A little overwhelmed by this whole school thing.
Goodluck. 1 1/2-year old rabble rouser. SOOOOO cute.
Sislane. Clingy and easily jealous, but sweet.
Tony. Instigator. Tries to be so tough but still sucks his thumb.
Grace. Wide eyes, seems to be in perpetual wonder at the world around her. Forgets my name a lot, so calls me 'Mzungu.'
Jesska. Placid, easy going, and tolerant of the boys when they pick on her.
Jenifa. A tiny peanut of a thing, but such a little tornado!
Debora. Jenifa' sidekick, very giggly and likes to copy Teacher.
Andrew. The new kid. Quiet and observant. For now.
Ana. Absorbs lessons like a sponge... you can't teach her fast enough.

Only a handful. We have close to 30 kids in the class. I will get to know them, too.

I led a few lessons today--it was just Spencer and me, as Katie is in Zanzibar and Regina is still on safari in the Serengeti. We covered numbers, animals, body parts, and colors today. Not bad. Considering the teachers changed the schedule around on us this morning, moving English class up an hour to 9:00 and putting us completely on the spot. I saw no sign of the cane today until the very end, when we were leaving. I really hate it. I wonder if that was the reason for the schedule change. I very much hope not.

4:30 p.m.

I hate, hate, HATE my malaria pills. Took mine an hour before lunch today, ate lunch, and was revisited by lunch about 20 minutes later. I woke up about 15 minutes ago, after a delirious 3-hour nap, having missed Swahili lessons and a group trip into town. Shit.

Someone somewhere is drumming. At first I thought it was the radio from one of the kitchen staff, but the rhythmic beats are coming from over the banana trees across the street. Every once in awhile, the beat changes, or stops as if someone made a mistake. The house is quiet except for in the kitchen, where I hear the cooks chatting and pots clanging--dinner that more than likely I'll have to avoid, which makes me sad. I hope it's not chapati. I will be depressed if it is.

I think I'm also starting to feel the first bout of homesickness. When you're sick, you want to be surrounded by familiarity. Mama Lillian, Mama Fatuma and Baba Fulgence have done their best to make this "home" too, but laying here it's hard to forget the fact that I am 8,000 miles away from familiarity.

7:00 p.m.

Still feeling weird and bummed that I missed the afternoon's activities. The days are so full that missing a few hours feels like missing a few days. I'm not prepared to trade exploring Tanzania for a less-than-stellar get-to-know-you session with the innerworkings of my digestive tract. Blecch.

Ate some ugali for dinner and it's staying put. Thank goodness for bland maize flour paste.

Usiku mwema.