3. 10-04-2014

The first weekend in host home was undoubtedly slow. We had gone from the playground of Bukoba Town to the placidity of rural life. We quickly realised that, although Mama Ester had no children, the house would usually contain at least 5 of them, as well as a steady stream of locals popping by. Introductions in Swahili were very quickly learnt and very well rehearsed (however try as I might, my pronunciation of shikamo will bring be a continuous source of shame.) Time was filled either walking to Clarissa's house and sitting there, or them walking to ours. Days revolved around meal times and sunsets. The others were staying pretty far away and we had no idea how to get there so instead we used the time to fully explore what there was of Katoma.

Travel scrabble, an embarrassingly exciting pastime.

When Monday eventually came around we were due back in town each morning for our final week of training, which meant we also finally had some time to properly explore. Travel to town was done by dalla dalla, minibuses in which as many people as humanly possible, and then a couple more, are crammed in to. Hot, overcrowded and unsafe - and oh so much fun.

I found the biscuits fairly early on...

As well as settle into host homes and learn the routine for chores, meals and bedtime.

First time with the charcoal iron. First of many, many times.

Just short of the one week mark in host homes Grant decided to up and move back into the hotel whilst he figured out what he wanted to do. He was not happy in the host home and didn't feel comfortable with the lack of personal space. Despite the confidence and "scared of nothing" mentality he adopted in the first week of training, the reality of the situation seemed to become just a little too challenging.

Ironically I later found out we had actually been placed in the same house because he came across as a "rock" and myself as "vulnerable and needing extra support" (I brought this on myself by happily listing off a whole A4 sheet of fears and my, frankly, emotional instability throughout the first week.) And actually, rather selfishly, this brutal reliance for me to bring him Cola to his bed, so he was getting some calories, and do all communicating on his behalf was probably the best thing that could have happened, as having to just get on with  it meant I found the transition surprisingly easy. We all decided it's because I cried early on, all the people that cried at the beginning eventually coped the best.

Carrying his suitcase back to the main road. Taxis wouldn't come down to the house.