The Schnozzberries Taste Like Schnozzberries...

Zanzibar was wonderful. Kate was proposed to twice on the beach. The first proposal came from a Masai named Cheap-o-price, the second time, from a young Muslim man who, in an effort to woo her, calmly explained that all she would need to do in order to convert to Islam was change the way she dresses. Kate was almost convinced, however, the conversation was interrupted by the call to prayer from the neighborhood mosque. Finally, we returned home to Mabibo where Club D' (a.k.a. The bar directly across the street from our house, which plays extremely loud Shaggy and Sean Kingston songs on repeat from 6am until 1am) was waiting for us.

Preparations for the holidays do not take long here. In fact, Christmas may have passed by entirely unnoticed, with the exception of Christmas Eve mass, but for the one skinny Santa dancing in front of the supermarket and post office who reminded us of the holiday that was about to arrive. Despite being in church from 8PM until 11:30 PM, mass was wonderfully celebrated. Enough incense was burned to give the impression we were celebrating an Eastern Orthodox ritual, children were dancing at the front of the church for the entire length of the mass, and the choir sung beautifully, leading the entire congregation throughout the celebration. The following day we enjoyed a delightful feast with the Jesuits and we spent the afternoon chatting and snacking on cheese - a rarity in our diet.

In between Christmas and the New Year we were invited to dinner at our neighbors house. We were excited to find out he was serving pork, although this excitement quickly diminished as plates loaded with cubes of pork fat and the occasional piece of meat were passed around. My fellow community mates were wise enough to politely pass on the majority of the fat, explaining to our gracious host that they were simply too full to enjoy the local delicacy. I, on the other hand, felt somewhat obliged and, just like Jack Sprat's wife, I licked the platter clean. So clean that I was offered more, and when I tried to politely refuse another helping, Kate was kind enough to urge me on. Down went another serving. Later that night, my body, overloaded with pork fat, explained to me that I should never, ever to do that again.

New Year's Eve was celebrated in a mass. This time mass went from 9PM December 31st until 1Am January 1st. We rang in the New Year before giving the sign of peace, which means that communion and final prayers took an hour all unto themselves. I am beginning to sense that Tanzanians like long celebrations.

In my short time in Dar, the thing that stands out the most is the pollution. Streets are littered with trash - empty bottles, used batteries, plastic bags. What ever is not strewn about the streets is burned, and so it is not unusual to walk through clouds of black smoke billowing from piles of burning plastic, paper, and other waste. As I walk to Gonzaga Primary School everyday I cross a river. Every day, and occasionally at different times during the same day, the water flowing beneath my feet is a different colour. I am reminded of rainbows and can only think that such a river belongs in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, where the green water tastes like lime, red tastes like cherries, black tastes like licorice, and schnozzberry taste like schnozzberries. Indeed, this is no exagerration and each day I am amazed and perplexed that such environmental tragedies can and do occur. It is evidence of the sad reality that environmental concerns in developing nations like Tanzania are simply too far down on the list of humanitarian priorities to be recognized with any real sense of urgency.

We are in our final week of preparations for Gonzaga Primary School. I think we are very far behind where a school preparing to open for the first time should be at this point of time, but I hope to be happily surprised upon our opening next week.

Well, I am grateful to two new Jesuit noviates who have just arrived from Sudan and Ethiopia and who have given me a way to end this entry because I need to welcome them since there are no Jesuits around.