2 Mar 2010 0900 local Moshii, TZ
It is the case in many bouts that the outcome is not determined at drama’s height, the seconds ticking away and defeat drooling as a giddy beast over the adversary’s shoulder. Rather, the deciding blow is struck incognito; as an exciting flurry, perhaps, but unrecognized in true import until the match is studied in cooled hindsight by combatants and commentators alike. While in the throes of struggle we are momentarily wizened to the idea that there is still time for more of the story to be written. So many victories and defeats we do not realize until after the pieces are set. Travels over the River of Toil.
Thus, once committed the string must be played out. Once gear has been donned and the field taken alertness and sincerity must be preserved or rot will set in and bitterness thereafter. The time for glory may be passed (or may never have arrived at all), but one cannot rule out that it might appear again, and this must not be forgotten. The soldier relaxes his guard only at the enactment of the armistice, not the announcement.
Leisure in Moshii
The first cup of brewed coffee in a month
The ceremonies of the week-end are behind us. My host Jesuit auxiliaries returned to work today, leaving only Leiha (Peace Corps Volunteer on holiday) and myself to mill about of our own devices.
Today, this comprised substantial absorbance of Moshii’s Eurocentric circuit. First off was a long breakfast of sausage rolls at ABBAS ALLY’S HOT BREAD SHOP. After weeks in Madibira the opportunity to idle casually with a countryman[1] was enjoyable beyond expectation. Chatting with someone whose background according to this relative universe so radically approximates my own, in a setting so familiar in generality (if not specifics) has brought on a feeling of transition, as though my departure from Tanzania has already begun.
Transience is (in bursts) unquestionably good for the spirit, but my mind is beginning to warm at the rapid approach of homeward shores.
3 Mar 2010 0930 local Moshii, TZ
Made a tour of the local Jesuit Secondary School, Mary Goretti Secondary with Talia and Beth this morning and came away very impressed (much more on this at a later date). Afterwards, we took lunch at the Sikh Club, which boats a full-size field hockey arena[2] and toured a local art market.
About town, we encountered a friendly fellow who spoke no English, but happened to know the Spaniard tongue quite well. No stranger to the language
Kindoroko Hotel - Rooftop View
myself, we enjoyed a worldly 3rd party language conversation and made arrangements to meet that evening at the Kindoroko Hotel’s rooftop bar
The venue was picturesque but extremely, extremely .expensive (4,500 Tsh/beer[3]). The evening unfolded well, until our Spanish speaking friend’s text messaging to the female members of our party touched inappropriateness in both volume and aggression.
Dinner was found in the form of street kebabs. Exquisite.
[1] Though Boots Himself indeed constitutes fine company the imperatives of expedition, exploration and industry set a necessarily officious tone over many of our hours of collaboration. The East Village Hockey League was not built by slack-browed waist-benders , of this the reader can be certain.
[2] Note to self – potential venue for 2015 EVHL Eastern Hemisphere Champions Cup
[3] About $2
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