Zanzibar

Zanzibar. Yes! Google it. It looks like that! White beaches, blue water, dhows cruising casually about as they have for generations. Then there's Stone Town with it's Persian architecture right next door to the East Indian architecture, right down the street from a street market I've heard is reminiscent of something right out of Arabian Nights. The hotel keyboard I'm typing on now has both English and Arabic letters. We two Washingtonians are a bit wilted, but other than that, we're doing very well. We came via a ferry. The Indian Ocean! Yes. We're grateful.
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Things I Love About Tanzania

jacaranda tree blossoms
sunsets
avocados – 3 for a dollar
beautiful African profiles
little Joviti’s hugs
milk in a box (creamy)
giraffes!
dirt paths winding through communities of Masai huts
smoked pork chops from Meat King grocers
freshly washed feet after a hot dusty trudge into town
amazing life stories of amazing people
the hair raising adventure of any form of transportation on any road anywhere
the respectful traditional greetings of children to their elders/ the response of the elder’s blessing
t I m e s l o w e d w a y d o w n
interdependency
kazoo birds in their flying kazoo bird band
an African wedding with African feet moving to that African beat
the laughing sound of a goat's call
a good belly laugh over yet another botched attempt at Swahili
the silhouette of an acacia tree
ready smiles and long greetings
a cold tall glass of passion fruit juice (with no sugar to spoil it!)
fewer things in my house to dust, organize, fix, store, wash
women with bundles, bags, pots, stacks balanced expertly on their heads
color and flowing liquid shapes
little feet in little school shoes; hair done done up lovingly
water... in any form
courage, dignity, grace in the face of the most challenging of circumstances

Of Rakes and Hoes and Children's Bellies

They studied the house, in the dim light of the streetlamp, an undistinguished building with a standard red-tiled roof and unkempt garden.
“He obviously does not employ a gardener,” observed Mma Ramotswe. “Look at the mess.”
It was inconsiderate not to have a gardener if, like Dr. Ranta, you were in a well-paid white-collar job. It was a social duty to employ domestic staff, who were readily available and desperate for work. Wages were low – unconscionable so, thougth Mma Ramotswe – but at least the system created jobs. If everybody with a job had a maid, then that was food going into the mouths of the maids and their children. If everybody did their own housework and tended their own gardens, then what were the people who were maids and gardeners to do?
By not cultivating his garden, Dr. Ranta showed himself to be selfish, which did not surprise Mma Ramostswe at all.
“Too selfish,” remarked Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,”said Mma Ramotswe.”

Tears of the Giraffe, by Alexander McCall Smith
setting: present day Botswana

Nairobi Wildlife Projects

"We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." (Ireland? that's a bit down the road too...)