Sinterklaas in lab coat and Kanga mijter
Blijf op de hoogte en volg Clara
07 December 2014 | Tanzania, Shirati
Long time no blog. It’s not that nothing has happened, it’s just that I haven’t found the time to write anything. Partly because we were hustling to find water (city pumps weren’t working because of hakuna umeme), partly because my female co-interns had left me and instead came these two Dutch co-assistents.
We have been showing them around town, making sure they don’t faint too often in the theatre (I couldn’t prevent it from happening though) and we have been on a nice road trip to the beach of Lake Victoria in Musoma.
The hospital is very quiet, the wards are half empty, no women are in labour, and operating days are extremely short. In summary; it’s planting season on the fields and people don’t have time to get sick. Or so it seems. They have time to get drunk though and get run over by Piki Piki’s. Those short days weren’t all too bad, because it left me time to write Sinterklaas poems for all the house mates and walk up Oboke’s mountain every day to get some exercise and watch the sunset.
Friday came and went, and Sinterklaas did not visit our house in Shirati. The two Dutch boys (Jan and Etienne) were away with Dr. Chirangi and that’s why Sint has decided to postpone his visit to the Chacha House until Sunday. Nothing could have prepared me for what my house mates have done.
The Americans asked me what kind of poems they should write, what kind of presents were customary, and they were just generally confused about the fact that “Saint Nicolas” is not “Santa Claus”. Come Sunday I was mostly expecting them to have written some nice lines and enjoy the evening.
But then the singing started. Jan, Etienne and I sung “Sinterklaasje kom maar binnen met je knecht” and I noticed that Brian was missing from the living room. Something was up. By the end of the song I was in tears and my ribs were hurting, I was laughing so hard. In walks Brian, 6’4”, dressed in Jan’s lab coat that barely covers his thighs, a huge bishops hat (mijter) made of red Kanga fabric, and a staff braided out of hemp rope. A curtain was draped around his shoulders and it just looked so warm on top, but breezy around he legs.
Just to give you an example of one of the poems
“Black Piet told that Saint Nicolas had said
That Clara was getting a bit flat
Like every good African he was finding it hard
There is too little volume around the hip part
However in an effort to help Clara build some self esteem
He made a little phone call to Josephine
She now makes for Clara food good of taste
That can nicely accumulate just below the waist
Luckily Clara is not going down without a fight
She’s climbing the hills to keep things tight
This way she will stay perfectly fit
For some guy back home with a benefit
Well maybe saint Nicolas should stop putting his nose in Clara’s business
Otherwise it might cause a lot of distress
So this poem has now come to a stop
So we don’t have to dry the tears on the floor with a mob
Kind Regards,
Sint and Piet”
We have been showing them around town, making sure they don’t faint too often in the theatre (I couldn’t prevent it from happening though) and we have been on a nice road trip to the beach of Lake Victoria in Musoma.
The hospital is very quiet, the wards are half empty, no women are in labour, and operating days are extremely short. In summary; it’s planting season on the fields and people don’t have time to get sick. Or so it seems. They have time to get drunk though and get run over by Piki Piki’s. Those short days weren’t all too bad, because it left me time to write Sinterklaas poems for all the house mates and walk up Oboke’s mountain every day to get some exercise and watch the sunset.
Friday came and went, and Sinterklaas did not visit our house in Shirati. The two Dutch boys (Jan and Etienne) were away with Dr. Chirangi and that’s why Sint has decided to postpone his visit to the Chacha House until Sunday. Nothing could have prepared me for what my house mates have done.
The Americans asked me what kind of poems they should write, what kind of presents were customary, and they were just generally confused about the fact that “Saint Nicolas” is not “Santa Claus”. Come Sunday I was mostly expecting them to have written some nice lines and enjoy the evening.
But then the singing started. Jan, Etienne and I sung “Sinterklaasje kom maar binnen met je knecht” and I noticed that Brian was missing from the living room. Something was up. By the end of the song I was in tears and my ribs were hurting, I was laughing so hard. In walks Brian, 6’4”, dressed in Jan’s lab coat that barely covers his thighs, a huge bishops hat (mijter) made of red Kanga fabric, and a staff braided out of hemp rope. A curtain was draped around his shoulders and it just looked so warm on top, but breezy around he legs.
Just to give you an example of one of the poems
“Black Piet told that Saint Nicolas had said
That Clara was getting a bit flat
Like every good African he was finding it hard
There is too little volume around the hip part
However in an effort to help Clara build some self esteem
He made a little phone call to Josephine
She now makes for Clara food good of taste
That can nicely accumulate just below the waist
Luckily Clara is not going down without a fight
She’s climbing the hills to keep things tight
This way she will stay perfectly fit
For some guy back home with a benefit
Well maybe saint Nicolas should stop putting his nose in Clara’s business
Otherwise it might cause a lot of distress
So this poem has now come to a stop
So we don’t have to dry the tears on the floor with a mob
Kind Regards,
Sint and Piet”
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Je kunt nu ook Smileys gebruiken. Via de toolbar, toetsenbord of door eerst : te typen en dan een woord bijvoorbeeld :smiley
