I’ve learned that if you assume the worst, you’ll be much happier with how things really turn out. That’s why as soon as I started feeling sick over the weekend I went ahead and declared that it was either Ebola or Leprosy that I had come down with. I’m now happier today because I can honestly tell you that it was neither of the two, and was more of a mild cold than anything, but at least I planned for the worst. Can’t be too careful in Africa.

The Idahoians have come and gone, and are currently back on a plane to the States, which means that the house has been pretty empty over the last couple of days. I was afraid that it’d be weird and lonely not having anybody to talk to, but I quickly realized that I was more fun to talk to than I previously thought…and that’s what worries me. Luckily, new roommates arrive Wednesday so the house will be full again soon. Before the Idahoians left though, we did have some good times. 

Thursday we were set to head to the Maasai village, but before we could go we had to first go to the market and get food for the villagers as a greeting for having us. I had never been to the market in down town Moshi before, so it was interesting to see exactly how everything was set up. After walking through two gates on either end of the market, there was a covered area that housed the majority of the booths where vendors had their goods for sale. When I walked in the first thing I noticed was the strong smell of fish that had been sitting out for hours, and the booths immediately to my left were used for butchers and people selling fish. I did a little walk through in that section with a couple of the Idahonians and was tempted to once again try some of the meat that they had hanging from the hooks, but one of them Idahonians almost lost their lunch to the smell so we had to get out of there as quick as possible. The booths on the other side of the meat and fish section had huge bags of rice, spices, grains, beans, fruits, and vegetables all over the place. While everyone was gathering supplies for the Maasai, I decided to take a little field trip through the market myself and see what I could find.

           

And as I’ve discovered with any market I’ve been to thus far…find something I did.

At the far end of the market there were a row of shops set up that caught my eye, and I immediately walked up to them and stared at what I saw. The vendor walked up to me and grinning said, “You want a machete, don’t know?”

I looked at him surprised, How did he know? There was no way it was a shot in the dark, it’s not everyday you ask someone if they want a machete and turn out to be right, and so I asked. That’s when he pointed at the bandana around my head and replied, “Rambo.”

Bandanas speak louder than words.

He asked how long I was going to be staying in Tanzania and I told him 5 more months and he threw his arms up and exclaimed, “Well then you have to have a machete if you’re here that long.” Quite right he was, but I held off on getting my man machete for a later day. I was hoping the Maasai would have some awesome lion skin rug for sale that I’d need all the money I had on me to get, so I politely declined the gentleman’s offer and returned to the car.

             

            You would think that in order to get to where the Maasai are we would have to follow some complicated directions, but quite the contrary. All we had to do was drive out on the main road towards Arusha until there was nothing around but brush and mountains, and then just take a quick left out towards the nothingness. We did get lost along the way, but luckily we ran into two Maasai riding a motorcycle out in the brush (weird, I know) and we asked to follow them to the village that we were going to, but there it was.

            It wasn’t necessarily a village, but instead a few huts out in the middle of the brush where the family lived. We met the husband when we arrived and gave him the food we brought, and he introduced us to his wives and children. That wasn’t a typo either. They sang some of the traditional Maasai songs and taught us some of their dances where they jump up and down and it was a bit surreal. A couple days before I left I watched the Amazing Race and they were in Tanzania and they had the contestants doing the Maasai dances and jumping up and down with them, and literally there I was doing it just as they were. You see things on television and never expect to actually see them for yourself, and even though I knew I was going to be there in a couple of days, it’s still hard to imagine what it’s actually like. It was just barren brush land all around and in the distance were mountains and the sun setting behind them, and here we were jumping with the Maasai and being shown into their homes and, of course, taking pictures of their kitchens.

After we experiencing some of their culture, we had to introduce them to a little bit of ours. For the last half hour that we were with them we formed a circle of Idahoians, Maasai, and myself and threw around the Frisbee. We taught them how to throw it and after a while they got the hang of it, and everyone was laughing and having a good time, even when the Frisbee hit someone in the face.

At one point the grandfather Maasai (I say that because he was at least 70, but probably older, he didn’t know his age) walked up to me when I was standing against the car and he was grinning and laughing to himself. I didn’t really get what was going on, until he pulled his cell phone out and pointed at it with a prideful smile as if saying, “Check it out, dude.” I threw my hands up and said no way and pulled my cell phone out and showed him and we both just kind of laughed at really nothing, except the fact that we both had cell phones and that I imagined him saying dude to me. It also just reminded me of in middle school when kids were first getting cell phones and showing them to everyone, and I realized that being so old and a Maasai, the cell phone literally was brand new to him, and something he didn't have at all until probably recently. So, I understood his excitement, I could relate in a way.



The Maasai were awesome, needless to say.


              Friday we spent most of the later part of the day at the orphanage with the kids because it was going to be the last time that the Idahonians would get to see them before they went home. As always, it was a great time and we played games, had a dance off, egg hunt, another riveting game of red rover, and the kids and everyone got to say their goodbyes. Friday was when I really started not feeling well though, and I think I’ve learned my lesson on telling the kids that you’re feeling under the weather because this is what happens 

            I’m good now though, so nobody freak out and start claiming the vest I got last week. And if nobody happened to notice I did not mention getting a lion skin rug from the Maasai, because I did not get a lion skin rug from the Maasai. They did not have any.

 Also, my hair is fine now. Thank you for reading.

Mt. Meru from the village

And once again, a promotional spot. Please don't forget about the fundraising page, and any amount would be greatly appreciated by both me and the orphanage!

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/kyletaylor/kilimanjarofundraiserclimb

One month in

Well, I’ve been here a month, who would have thought the day would come. To celebrate I drank a Guinness and left the bottle in my room as a sort of marker, and then I buzzed my head, and let’s just say only one of those things ended up how it was supposed to (I’ll give you a hint, half my head is buzzed right now). No one tells you about the voltage differences with plugs around here, and no one tells you that the result of the voltage difference will be the clippers basically exploding in your hand. No one was hurt in the incident, except maybe my self-image for the next few days, but I’ll live.

            Crazy to think that I’ve been here a month, that a month ago I was sitting at Taco Mac with my parents before boarding my flight and eating a Philly Cheese Steak and drinking a Dr. Pepper. I am here though, and doing awesome. The Canadians have all left, Kate off to Rwanda and Hayley to the great barren moose country known as Canada. In their place a group of five from Idaho (I shall refer to them as “the Idahoians” hence forth) have arrived to keep me company so the house was not empty for long. We went to the used clothing market last week, or as I named it afterwards, “The Place Where Thrift Stores Go To Die.” It was a huge outdoor market where literally anything that was not bought at the thrift stores (mainly European ones) ended up here. You would think that the clothes that didn’t make the cut abroad would be shabby and unwanted here, but let me just tell you, there were some gems in this market. I for one, found a nifty sweater vest for only a dollar, and I’ve already proclaimed myself the winner of the tacky sweater contest at this years Christmas party. It rained right before we got to the market and so it was mud as far as the eye could see, and half the battle of finding the little gems around the market was trying not to slip and fall. We lost one Idahohian to the mud, a causality of bargain shopping.

While everyone finished up their shopping I decided to be bold and go into a small outdoor restaurant at the entrance of the market to try some of the cooked goat that was being grilled. I didn’t actually know it was goat, I just assumed it was by the look of the meat hanging by the grill, but who can ever really tell what raw meat really is when it’s just hanging there. Come to find out, it wasn’t goat. It was a cow, but still delicious. I didn’t know exactly how to order it so I kind of just pointed at the grill and nodded at the guy cooking, and he pointed back at me, and nodded as well. No matter where you go, it’s universal that when a man points at grilled meat, another man knows exactly what he’s talking about.

            There’s no language barrier when it comes to cooked meat.

            And there’s no language barrier when it comes to stomachaches after eating foreign cooked meat, but I’ll leave it at that. I’d do it all over again I tell you!!

            I spent a couple days at the orphanage with the Idahoians over the last week. A lot of fun, as always, but there is one highlight that stands out from it that I just have to share. Throughout my 23 years of life I’ve noticed a correlation between the older I get and the chances of running into people who have never heard of the Beatles diminishing. The more years I put under my belt, the less likely it is I’ll meet someone who’s never heard of the Beatles, simple as that. That’s when Tanzania will surprise you. I brought my Ipod to the orphanage one day and was letting Christopher and Juma listen to some of the music on it so I could see what kind of music they have been exposed to. Michael Jackson seemed to be their favorite, and when I put on Billy Jean they both went a little crazy and almost pulled the headphones out when they wanted to dance to it. I stumbled across the Beatles though, and kind of half serious (figuring everyone had heard of the Beatles) I asked if they had ever heard of them.

            They said no.

            I was shocked, but a prime opportunity had just come out of this situation.

            I never thought the day would come when I would get to see the reaction on someone’s face when they heard the Beatles for the first time, but I did this day. I played Help and Come Together for Christopher and Juma, and the sight was priceless. Both their faces lit up and smiles ran across their faces, and they started bobbing their heads to it and tapping their feet to the music. Christopher even stood up and started air drumming with his fingers. The greatest rock band to ever live struck again in Tanzania, and it was a really kind of surreal, but awesome experience seeing it happen.

            The Beach Boys were a hit too.

            We visited Mary’s home village as well the other day. We had to drive on muddy dirt roads up into the foothills of Kilimanjaro to get to it, and I strategically positioned myself next to the van door so that just incase we went careening back down the mountain and the breaks failed I’d be able to jump out before any serious damage was done. I felt bad that that was my game plan the entire time, but I made it a point that as I was leaping out I would at least yell back to the car, “I’m sorry!” That way there would be no hard feelings between the Idahoians and me. We made it, obviously, but at least I had a contingency plan in place.

            When we made it to the village you could tell that the air was much thinner and cooler than what I’m accustomed too. We were basically almost up in the clouds, and the village was hidden amongst the banana trees and foliage. The village was small, and the houses were just one room rock and wood buildings. One building was the kitchen, not much bigger than a bathroom back home, and the living house wasn’t much bigger than the kitchen. There was no running water or electricity and it was crazy to think that people actually lived up there in almost isolation. Mary’s relatives and the other villagers were excited to see us, and were very welcoming. They showed us how to cut down a banana tree and gave us the bananas as a gift for the rice and flour that we brought with us. It was definitely something that I had never seen before, but of course, I found myself laughing at a private joke. As we walked through the village the Idahoians and myself were snapping pictures of all the houses and pictures of the villagers and I just couldn’t help but think, “What if people were doing this at my house?”

            I just pictured people showing up at my house and walking into my kitchen armed with cameras and being like, “Oh, this is your kitchen? Can I get a picture of it?” and walking down to the basement and seeing me watch TV and saying, “Oh, look at that. Kyle in his natural environment, we gotta snap a photo with him,” or just walking into my bedroom and giving me candy and taking a photo of my reaction to receiving it. I know we were just interested in how others lived, but I couldn’t help but crack up at the irony of it all.

Muzungu, I tell ya.

            Alright, that is all for now. I’m going to go try and negotiate a half priced hair cut since half the deed is already done.

            Mom, the clippers you bought are broken by the way, just in case you didn’t realize which ones I was referring to. My bad. But I learned a valuable lesson from it all and that’s what counts.

Happy Mother's Day as well!!

And all future guests will be greeted like so

           
And please, do not forget the fundraising page I created as well. Any little bit would help! Thank you!
http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/kyletaylor/kilimanjarofundraiserclimb

           

When it rains it pours here in Tanzania. It’s the start of the rainy season, and the name is aptly given. It’s pouring outside now, creating a steady drum against the roof of the house. I shaved the moustache, too. I gave up on trying to join the moustache club just to spite how sick I’ve felt lately. I’m convinced the moustache heard me talking about shaving it off and to get even it turned against me and made me feel under the weather the last couple of days. I showed it though.

            Before the shaving of the moustache though, I had a really great day at the orphanage last Saturday. Theresa, Hayley, Kate, Ema, and I all went there for the day and brought with us two bikes for the kids to ride and a bunch of beads so the kids could make jewelry. Ema and I had to go out for a little bit though to get air put in the tires, but once we got back I went outside and tried to teach some of the kids how to ride a bike. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually ridden a bike, but like the old saying goes, it came back naturally. I asked Gift if he had ever heard of the phrase, “Just like riding a bike,” and this was the response I got. 

            Teaching someone to ride a bike is a whole lot tougher than actually riding one I learned. At first I just tried running along with them, keeping them balanced and straight, but after a while I got pretty worn out from that. It wasn’t until Kate came out and gave them the instructions of push hard down on one pedal and then immediately do the same with the other did most of the kids start really getting the hang of it. Shabani and Juma were a big help though in the whole teaching process since they already knew how to ride, and so they actually showed a bunch of the kids how to ride better than I could. It was still exciting though seeing how happy learning to ride a bike made them. Gift ran up to me at one point and was jumping up and down yelling, “I love riding a bike!” I swear it took me longer to learn to ride a bike than it did with them, and I had training wheels to help, whereas they just had to hop on and give it their best shot. After helping with the bike riding we went inside and worked on a few letters for sponsors, and then the games really began.

            Here we have the events of the most epic game of red rover I’ve ever played. It was a riveting game. Back and forth teams were losing and gaining key players in the chain with every hard fought assault. Eliona began the game on our team, but then the chant rang out from the other team, “Red rover, red rover, send Eliona on over.” He was nervous, I could tell, but up for the challenge. Together, we inspected the opponents chain, looking for weaknesses and the best location for his attack.  After much deliberation, we sent him on his attack, all cheering behind him.

           

Alas, we lost a good man.

           

Back and forth the teams went. Grueling battles were won and lost, but then the chant began. It started off quiet, almost at a whisper. I was even uncertain as to if it was really happening, but then it all starting coming in clear, “Red rover, red rover, send Kyle on over.” They had made a dire mistake.

            I pointed out the spot of attack, calling my placement like the great Bambino.

            Still, I had to consult with the team. Strain was on all our faces, worried that I might not come back.            

We came up with a plan of attack.

Fear wins before the battle begins.

I charged headstrong into the enemy’s defenses. I could smell the fear, and it smelt like...

                                                              

                                                                         Victory.

           

We all walked a little taller after that day.

           

            After a long day with the kids and much sweat and tears shed in the Red Rover War, there was only one thing left to do…the next day of course, because I went right to bed as soon as we got home.

Hand wash my laundry from the past couple of weeks. I really appreciate washers and dryers now that’s for sure. By the end of it all I had blisters beginning to form on my hands from ringing out all the shirts and pants that I washed. I might just give up on doing laundry for the next 6 months if this is what it entails. In place of wearing my moustache with pride, I now substitute that caterpillar of fur with the dirt and grime of unwashed clothes. The decision has been made.

All in all a really good weekend. I went on my second hash on Sunday. We started off in Shantytown, a suburb of Moshi where more of the white families and wealthier residence reside, and ironically named as well. The hike was pretty simple, we started off walking through the neighborhood and then went into some more jungle covered areas where we had to avoid prickly bushes and thorns for a little bit, but then it turned into a nice stroll through some farmlands with some breathtaking views. Had another Serengeti at the end of it.

I’ll close this blog out though with a little promotional ad for myself. I’ve set up a fundraising page for an event that MAD is doing, The Kilimanjaro Fundraising Climb. Any donation would be greatly appreciated and will be going to a great cause so if you could just take a quick gander at it that would be awesome. Thanks!

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/kyletaylor/kilimanjarofundraiserclimb