Our first free day of the program was up for grabs this Sunday. While we are in class six days a week, Sunday is a day to fit in as many activities as you can and explore the surrounding areas to your heart's desire.
The morning consisted of a knife painting class, a local art form characterized by painting on canvas using knives to create more abstract pieces. The knives looked more like little spatulas to me, but I suppose were knives nonetheless. I did not have an artistic bone in my body, but still wanted to take a stab (literally) at the technique.
We were driven to a small shop on the side of the road. Upon walking inside, we entered a room filled with hundreds of true works of art. From safari scenes to depictions of Maasai people and magnificent animal faces, there was something there for everybody--including myself, who had not planned on spending money on a painting before walking into the shop. I could already picture the little giraffe savanna scene hanging in my new apartment next semester.
The group sat down on small benches facing each other in a circle and were given mini canvasses. Our instructor would show us how he painted a certain part of the picture, and we would then follow. Let me tell you, he made it look FAR easier than it was. With simple and effortless swipes of the knife, he created mountains, people, and sunset skies. I, on the other hand, struggled to even paint stick legs for my people. By the end of the endeavor, my painting of Maasai people with Mt. Kilimanjaro as a backdrop looked quite like the job of a five year-old. Nonetheless, I found the act of painting itself relaxing and was glad for the experience. Anyway, I could always give the painting to one of my parents as a joke. As I walked out, I thought that the kindness of the instructors was equally impressive as their talent.
Next up was our bike tour in a little while. We made our way to the location traversing along the road, stopping at shops here and there. My eye was out for gifts for my family, and as we approached a wood carving shop I zeroed in on some potential presents. I purchased some wooden salad tossers for my uncle; my "mwanafunzi bei" (student price) plea to the vendor did not work all too well, but it was worth a try. A little more walking and we had come to the Masaai market, another stop I had wanted to make. Upon entrance to the little alleyway of shops, I was swarmed again by vendors--although they were not nearly as aggressive as the Karatu market.
"Would you like to trade watch?" I was asked immediately.
Trading of items was a common practice here. I looked down at my wrist and saw the man eyeing my Timex watch that my uncle had just gotten me. Not in a million years would anything in this shop be even close to worth that of my watch.
"Hapana asante," I quickly replied.
After some perusing, I acquired some more gifts and an unexpected set of anklets for myself. This trend of spending on unplanned items needed curbing...
When it was time for the bike tour a few minutes later, we were greeted by our guides and warned to stay on the left side of the road, or squat, as he put it. Noted. I couldn't remember the last time I had ridden a bike. The roads were very rocky and I was quite anxious to begin, foreseeing a tumble from my bike as I wobbled along. After a few minutes, however, I began to ease up and take in everything around me. We began travelling on a small path through banana plantations, and I stared up at the canopy of leaves surrounding me. For our first stop, we pulled the bikes off to the side of the path and made our way a few feet within the tall stalks toward a little house amid the trees. There, we learned about how the average African family constructs their homes out of mud, sticks and stones, complete with either a banana leaf roof or a tin one. During the wet season, they often needed rebuilding. A little ways up and we parked our bikes again on the side of the road and crashed our way through the banana forest. The fruits hung delicately above our heads, flowering their way into existence. The guides talked about how and when bananas are harvested. Planters often put a sapling next to an adult banana tree so that it may thrive off the nutrients of the adult to catalyze the sapling's growth.
Next, we were taken to a makeshift brewery/bar shrouded within the banana leaf forest. Here, we were told about the process to make the famous Tanzanian banana beer and got to try a cup ourselves. A large jug was passed around the circle, and we were told to first blow on the liquid and then take a sip. The taste was interesting to say the least--quite bitter and not very reminiscent of bananas, but aside from that I do not quite know how to describe it. Others compared it to Kombucha.
As we mounted our bikes again, my rear end did not appreciate the small seat of the bike any longer. We travelled to another stop in the lush woods at the location of a Maasai wood carving shop. We sat down on wooden benches and gulped our waters, most of us now perspiring quite heavily. We sat in front of several workers who were meticulously hacking away at wooden figures with hacksaws and knives. I found it fascinating to watch them work on the figurines as our tour guide talked about how the carvings were made and showed us individual pieces. Many of them carried deep meaning--one carving, for example, depicted a man and woman both carrying jugs of water on their heads. In African culture, it is typically the duty of the woman to collect water. Therefore, this piece represented steps toward gender equality. After the presentation, we walked around the shop and to no one's surprise, I purchased more things I don't need. (In my defense, the little handmade beaded bowl I got would make a GREAT jewelry holder).
We mounted our bikes again and replaced our banana tree scenery with that of a little village. We drove between small huts situated on the dirt landscape and waved at the people we passed. I watched them wash their clothes outside, transport fruits and water jugs, and play outside in a stream of ongoing activity. All the while, children seeing our bike parade would eagerly sprint toward us to say hello or get a high five. They screamed with joy and wide eyes at the sight of us, and I felt like a celebrity. Wazungu (white people) were quite the attraction here, especially to small children. The interaction with community members and viewing of the local life unfold right before our eyes was arguably even better than the gorgeous banana plantations.
Last stop: the paint shop. We entered a large outdoor store amidst the large leaves, and my senses were overwhelmed with bright pops of color everywhere I looked. The paintings were along the same lines as those within the previous shop, but spectacular nonetheless. I felt that I could have spent hours just looking around. As we milled through, the tour guide spoke to us about the painting process as we watched a couple artists at work in front of us. One was in the middle of a detailed elephant face, and he showed us the small photograph with which he was working off of.
With the tour concluded, we paid the guides and they led us to the lodge that many of the students wanted to check out. Once there, we abandoned our bikes and thanked the guides, then were led through the large gates to the Twiga Lodge. The Lodge was an oasis in the middle of the city: I suddenly felt like I was in America again as I passed by an inground pool with accompanying patio and parked my painful buttocks into a lawn chair on perfectly manicured grass. Inside one of the buildings, we entered a large bar area with flat-screen televisions and granite countertops. I ordered my first African drink, and kicked back outside in my chair with a Kilimanjaro in hand--one of the local beers, or "golden water," as they called it. The sun had made a special appearance for us this afternoon, and the group sat in a peaceful trance for a little over an hour talking, drinking, and enjoying each other's company. I couldn't have thought of a better way to end the day.
….Until next Sunday!
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