double fist pump

I'm giving a double fist pump to the double wave. For, you see, a wave in Tanzania is done with both hands. So, if you see a chum from school across a crowded room, you don't just wave one hand so they see you. You wave both hands (which is impossible to do without a gigantic smile on your face - really - just try it!). Babu just came home in the taxi and the cab driver came around the back of the car and gave us the double wave. I thought we had just won the gold medal in hockey or at least that I was frosh with this guy. This wave is infectiously happy. Normally that would make me loathe it but it is infectiously happy. What can I say? I am exporting this back to Canada.

Our Swahili classes are at Coco Beach. We sit in a hall there and (occasionally) have beers (or that 3rd World stalwart, Fanta Orange) while we learn words (maneno). My Swahili is better than my French now. Which is a large indictment of my French. The Swahili has been fun. I have a theory now that those that are good at "languages" are not shy. Those that excel get in to conversations even without planning out every single word in advance and every possible response. I have to try this. Ironically, the only person I know on this trip like this had the biggest gaffe. While dealing with giardia, she told her colleagues at work for a week that her tummy hurt. Except that tummy was a vulgar verb. Ah, hilarity.

view during grammar review

Incidentally, we heard of a surefire cure for giardia. A malaria worker stormed back to the headquarters from a week in the bush to spend every hour running outside from the dorm to the outhouse. On one such trip he opened the door to find a lioness staring at him. He fell back, his bowels tightened up and he didn't have to go outside again.