Kwa heri marafiki

Several weeks of new adjustments ensue. The exodus of most friends I have made the last couple of months emphasizes Dodoma’s slumberous atmosphere. Sadly, Amy’s departure coincides with that of the Brigewaters. An elderly British couple who spent most of their youth in Tanzania, they have been trustees of our organization for over a decade. Planning to stay at home with me for six weeks their aim had been to ‘help out’ at work. Unfortunately they cut their visit short after a week when it becomes clear they’re too fragile to continue living here safely. It’s sad and awkward to see them leave so abruptly, but I also feel a tiny sense of relief that they will be better looked after in their home by their loved ones. Suddenly the house feels very empty.

I get excited about bringing the nice garden back to life and hire a gardener to trim the thick bougainvillea bush decorating the front yard. Two hours later I find that not a single trace of its fuscia and coral flowers remain! Besides inheriting left-over luxuries from departing chums, a nice aspect of temporary isolation is time to think and take up neglected hobbies. The walls are blank and I start decorating them by drawing amateur pictures. I move the furniture around, take out some scented candles and make the place my own. In the process I unearth a range of treasures hidden in dusty corners. Like a blue prince facing the fearful dragon before reaching his beloved princess, I face the task of slaughtering a massive cockroach who is happily residing in a beautiful Italian caffetier I’ve found at the back of the kitchen cupboard. But hey, this is one of the easiest things to be overcome before being able to enjoy a cup of fresh coffee here! After considering several death penalties including the flip flop death and the poisoned chalk penalty, I opt for the cauldron sentence. I am told that pouring boiling water to drown the insect prevents the eggs that inevitably squirt out when squashed, from sticking to the surface. Delightful stuff.