Moshi, Dar es Salaam, Amsterdam, to London
This day seemed impossibly far away back in June, but here it is again, my last day in Moshi. The girls have been great and absorbed more than I thought possible over the course of a month. Some of them are more than ready for more in depth study, while others reached their capacity in the second week of business class. It may sound trite, but I’m really grateful for the opportunity to teach these budding entrepreneurs and it is satisfying that even the most dormant learners are able to walk through an income statement, understanding the sources of various product costs. My hope is that they will trust each other enough to elect and respect their Co-op business leaders.
Mama Tori and Miss Debbie gave a truly surprising “Thank You” celebration in the middle of business class, complete with ice cream for everyone. Everyone sang “Happy last day to you” to the tune of “Happy Birthday to you”. We all had a great laugh and afternoon treat together.
It is interesting how some of the girls are very conscious of having pictures taken. To break the ice I let them take pictures of me and somehow the idea of holding the camera still while pushing the button down didn't really "take", so this was the best picture of the bunch.
When I explained that the only way I will remember their names and faces is to actually have a photo of them, several of the girls jumped up and wanted pictures taken.
Blandina is a bright girl with a great sense of humor. Here she is sharing her “African Camera”. She said, “We are so poor in Africa that this is how we take pictures.”
Gladly is putting on her best “cool model” pose, which took the better part of two minutes to perfect.
Glory tries very hard and gets good grades. She wanted to be remembered first as a student and chose to have her picture taken at the main classroom table.
Elizabeth and Mama Tori share a smile and giggle together.
(Big Jack, Sefa, and Lillian.)
Between Miss Debbie and Mama Tori these young women are sure to have great female role models.
Time seemed to be in a rapid, fast forward, mode all day long. I woke up, gave the girls theirs tests for science, then lunch, two hours of business and suddenly Mr. Brad was driving me to the airport. Arriving at 7:00pm for an 8:55pm flight was an exercise in “hurry up and wait”. My bag, filled with woodcarvings, stone carvings, greeting cards, and clothes weighed in at a gravitationally challenged 26 kilos. The desk clerk printed out my boarding pass, asking me to step to the side and empty out 3 kilos of goods to be carried on the plane. She then systematically stepped to another counter position. I dug in my pack and pulled out a fleece and notebook. The bag check attendant stepped over to say, “Uncle, I think that is enough.” A grateful smile and five bucks in return made everyone happy. He grabbed my bag, touched the surface of the scale and nodded in approval that it was now officially 23 kilos.
There is nothing romantic or quaint about the rustic setting of the airport waiting room, when you are leaving Africa.
The moon was almost full, backlighting the con-tower.
There was no mistaking which plane was ours, as it was the only one on the tarmac.
The seating is tight for the red-eye flight to Amsterdam, with a 3-3-3 seating plan.
Fortunately, I was able to secure a window seat and was lulled to sleep by the lightly waving turbulence diffusion tip of the left wing. Unfortunately, I was not able to get a good picture of the grass fires at night, but there were hundreds of them burning in sickle shaped curves.
It was dark, cool, and raining on our arrival in Amsterdam. Who knew that the cool humidity could feel so good? Sometimes, as humans, we miss the strangest things.
There was little difference between leaving Amsterdam and descending into London, Heathrow Airport. Simply add a couple of degrees for the appearance of the sun and all else was a welcome status quo. I reveled in the cool dampness all the way to the hostel.
The rest of the day was spent wandering the city and eating with Fiona, a woman Kristen and I met on Safari in the Serengeti. We went to the British National Gallery for a photo exhibit,...
... then sated an Indian Food craving, and finished with a late movie that honestly the name and most of the plot fell victim to a sleep deprived haze. (It was based on the Daniel Pearl murder by Muslim extremists.)
No comments:
Post a Comment