Summer Time on the Equator

January 5, 2006. Thursday, 9:73am.

Note to self: chai masala does not go well with Earl Grey. I think it was
invented to liven up low-grade tea like the kind Kenya sells domestically.
Kenya is the third largest exporter of tea worldwide; did anyone else know
that? Most of what we get in the U.S. is sent to England from Kenya and
repackaged as �English� tea. Twinings, for example.

Sugar cane is the perfect summer treat. I went for a walk in search of the
lady who manages the spinach farm at Father Mair Girl�s School. It was time
for another armload of spinach. This time I asked for only five shillings
worth, which is enough spinach for at least four meals. Oh yeah, sugar cane.
On the way back from the lady�s house I saw some farmers with fresh-cut
stalks of sugar cane. I bought a four-foot stalk for five shillings. FIVE
SHILLINGS! There�s nothing like breaking off a piece of sugar cane with your
teeth and sucking out the cool juice, then letting the dry fibers dribble
out of your mouth onto the road. Something about it seemed so Huck Finn, so
barefoot summer afternoons frolicking by the Mississippi River wearing a
straw hat and overalls with rolled-up pants cuffs. The breeze picked up,
trees swayed, dried leaves rustled, and half the dust from the road ended up
in my eye. Ah, summertime in the American south. Ah, Africa in January.
Daytimes are hot, with swirling winds that stir up dusty funnel clouds in
the trading center and across the volleyball field. Nighttimes are cool,
with howling winds that whistle through the aluminum roofing on my house.
It�s kind of creepy, especially if I step outside to use the choo. The dark
shadows of swinging trees loom over me, blocking and unblocking the moon and
stars. Lights that appear and disappear in the night sky freak me out.
There�s something evil and menacing about it, and if it�s after sunset
you�ll find me sprinting to and from the choo so the night sky monster
doesn�t try to zap me with falling stars.

I went to see Sugut this morning, the guy who was taken hostage while
building water projects in southern Sudan a few years ago, to get a list of
all the registered community groups in my district. It�s time to start
meeting people and planning some �capacity-building� activities, i.e.
trainings and classes. He said someone accidentally erased his entire hard
drive so he would have to track down a hard copy. I started telling him
about the issues I�ve been having working with my organization, thinking it
was a bit risky to be spilling such rotten beans, but he only nodded and
said he had heard about it already through one of our members, who happens
to be his drinking buddy. Nothing is a secret in an African village!