it's not through love and it's definitely not money. oh no. sheer determination and lack of choice, really. there is no more power as in TANESCO which is our electricity supplier.
it's definitely more off than on. thanks god (as everyone says here) for our little shiny red generator, which has been working its pretty lil ass off lately. my funky key rack keeps the light shinin' when the lights go off when everyone's at home...
i salute habari.co.tz, our faithful internet provider, who has doggedly maintained our internet connection throughout all these power cuts...how they manage is beyond me. biscuits and medals all round, i say. it's a shameful thing when a government fails to provide clean water and electricity to the people. i wonder what happens in the already understaffed, over crowded hospitals? it's a terrifying and deeply worrying thought. water is a problem now. we are fortunate enough to be able to buy our water on the hill. the horses have drunk what was left in the tanks from the last rainy season which i can barely remember. so we have to order big lorry loads of it, ten thousand litres at a time. the big blue maji safi (clean water) trucks now arrive at night, sometimes after eight o clock, trundlin' slowly up the ngorobob hill, the headlights orange in the red dust, because there is never any power in town or at water points to pump in the day. sometimes it will take three days for a water truck to arrive. i think of people living out on the Maasai Steppes where there is nothing - really nothing. maybe a stone eatin' ostrich or three...? and fields of dry stalks which used to be maize? i see the herds of donkeys plodding back loaded with water containers, followed by maasai women, holding their long sticks, their beaded necklaces twinklin' under the drought sun, slowly trudging home, with tired faces. home to what?
the cattle are starting to look skeletal, heads hung low as if their crescent moon horns are too heavy to bear for much longer. the only animals which still look fattish, albeit dusty, are the fat tailed sheep. (i think they are eating stones and termites or something.) and all the pretty horses, of course.
and there is no rain. still. i think the wind has given up too. it seems to have done a sly exit when no one was watching. given in to the sun who Rules. everyday is torpid, white, baking. the ground is bare and cracked and the heat relentless. sometimes it's hard to feel motivated. a little drink never did anyone any harm at all, no sirree. little vodkas spiced up with orange and mango juice, ya know? the ice making happy, tinkling music in my glass as i stare at an orange storm on the other side of the mountain, far far away, which simply won't blow this way. like the ngorobobs have a sign in the sky which says "NO RAIN ALLOWED HERE"... got to keep the majik goin' somehow. got to keep finding it. even the red dust stars seem spiteful these quiet, so quiet, dark nights.
must try harder.
Kitchen Board - Ngorobob Hill - 12 February 2011
my friend m says that TANESCO is officially a swear word now...ewkay.
toodely pip, oh bestest bloggie babes, bisous X.X.X. hot dust laden ones x j