honeymoon's over, toots.

First things first: my stomach hurts. This is pretty normal here, especially among the expats, as everybody adjusts to the enormous array of new bacteria that their Western upbringing just didn't include. Still, those who know me well know that my stomach can tend to freak out, so I'm a bit nervous that the whole Africa thing will be too much for my guts. For the past couple of days, every time I eat or drink something, my stomach clenches like a fist and starts "churning and burning." This doesn't change the fact that I need food and water, though. To be fair, Liza and Jessica aren't feeling 100% either, and it's usually a relief to check in with your roommates and find that they, too, are pooping way too often. (Sorry to be gross, but EVERYONE discusses bodily functions here. All the time. To be sure they're not contracting amoebic dysentery or something. YIKES!!) Anyway, I'm sure stress is contributing to the churn 'n' burn factor, so my parents are right as usual, I need to be meditating.

This week was my first week of teaching. It is really intense, but really enjoyable too. My students and their parents (every Suzuki lesson has the parent sitting in as an observer) have responded really positively to me as a person, and despite the initial haranguing of making a schedule which pleases everyone (impossible), I think I've gotten off to a good start with pretty much everyone. Teaching demands so much of you personally, especially one-on-one teaching with children. I'm nowhere near forty hours a week teaching (it's really more like fifteen), but it's still quite exhausting. You must be intelligent, energetic, entertaining, compassionate, analytical, organized, positive, and articulate. It's fuckin' hard! (Sorry grandparents. And Dad. And everybody.)

My group class is particularly nerve-wracking, as I work with seven kids, and all the parents observe. Group classes are supposed to be fun as well as educational, and if you don't move quickly and vigorously, you lose the kids fast. But for my first-ever week as a bona fide Suzuki teacher, I think it's going pretty well. I think I have something like eleven violin students, a group class, three piano students (yeah ... anyway), and two cello students (right ... ).

The work is extremely rewarding, and most of the kids are so sweet, they give you a burst of positive energy and love just by walking into the room! It's adorable how kids actually laugh at your nerdy jokes, and usually reciprocate every ounce of excitement that you create. My tiny piano student, Simon, is four years old, and when I showed him the groups of black keys up and down the piano, you would have thought I had brought him to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, he was so excited. Kids are, like, soooo cute.

Today, I took a daladala to school to teach an extra lesson. It was an interesting ride. These buses are extremely crowded, and as you can imagine in a country where many people don't have running water, the body odor is pretty intense, particularly among the men. (The women, for the record, usually smell GOOD and often emerge from their mud-and-thatch houses with perfectly coiffed hair and radiant skin, wearing gorgeous brilliantly colored wraps and dresses. You go, girls!) Anyway, I ended up sandwiched between two men, one of whom was a Maasai tribesman with traditional red robes and spear. He smelled HORRIBLE, and the other guy was no picnic either. Under the combined influence of B.O., diesel exhaust, and dust, my churning stomach churned a little harder. I was even more mad at the Maasai guy than I would have been yesterday, because I found out today that Maasai women almost always undergo genital mutilation. Not that it's his fault, exactly, but still.

Whew. Sorry to transport you to the world of body functions/odors, but it's a pretty significant part of life here. Wish me and my stomach luck, and write soon. =) Love, Ellen.