Sundays have a whole new meaning in Bukoba. Sundays mean I can wake up after 6am and if I’m lucky, like I was this past Sunday, it means having more than just avocado and three inch bananas for breakfast. This Sunday the breakfast table had the usual toast and avocado but with the pleasant addition of fried, not boiled, eggs and potatoes. I woke up thinking I was in Denny’s.
After digesting my food, which takes about five minutes because everything is fresh and organic so it slips right through your system, I washed my unmentionables and hung them to dry on the laundry line outside and prayed that it wouldn’t rain because I was on my last pair of uhhh, unmentionables and Monday would not have been pleasant. (run-on sentences happen frequently in my post)
THE RUN
Noah, Reacheal, and I like to attempt suicide every other day and run up the hills that surround our house. Justin and Anthony would have joined us but they claim to have asthma. When I get over the fact that my lungs are screaming for air and my legs are on fire I take in the view around me. We sit atop a hill (or mountain depending on who you ask) that overlooks Lake Victoria and the landscape view is breathtaking, it keeps me running after my lungs have given and legs have turned to jelly.
When the day of rest comes to an end it’s back to regular schedule programming. This experience thus far has been a melting pot of emotions. There is excitement because this is the first time I’ve been to the continent of Africa and the feeling is overwhelming. There is frustration because I’m unable to communicate in Kiswahili as well as I’d like to with people in the communities we are working with. Lastly there is paranoia because my medication for malaria, Malarone, is a psychotic so my dreams have been worthy of science fiction movies.
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