In the past week we have had what can only be described as a butterfly storm: hundreds and thousands of small white butterflies filling the air and fluttering around the school playground. Whilst theories on their appearance seem to range somewhat, the consensus seeems to be that they are a forerunner of heavy rain. This surprised me since I thought the rainy season wasn't until later in March, but perhaps climate change has reached these parts of the world too.

In any event, we had a heavy rain shower yesterday, which brought blessed relief to the relentless sun of the past few days. The temperature cools and the air feels much fresher. It also dampens down the dust, which lies inches thick along the road outside the house. Admittedly, this only lasts until the clouds clear and the mud dries back into dust, but at least it provides the possibility of walking somewhere without getting dust in every physiological nook and cranny! One downside of the rain however is the noise: both the school and the house have corrugated metal roofs ("bati") and so the sound of the raindrops multiplies tenfold and you can literally not hear yourself speak in the classroom.

Speaking of which, we have finally gotten round to getting the roof replaced on one of the two classrooms. Cheka School comprises two classrooms, one of which was built last year with the generosity and skill of some volunteers from England. However, the money didn't quite stretch to improvements to the existing classroom, and so the leaky roof never got replaced. The rain does however enter in and destroy any work liying around, and so we made this a priority and finally gathered together the money to get it done. After much haggling with the "fundi" (tradesman), we agreed on a figure and three labourers turned up yesterday to get going. However they ended up sitting inside for several hours waiting for the rain to pass.

To their credit, once the rain stopped they got going, and by the end of the day the old sheet metal and timbers had been removed, and the new framework put up. However, before this could be done the Fundi shuffled over to me and asked for more money. An advance to pay the labourers - fair enough, we had already agreed on but not paid for the labour cosets - as well as 15,000 for the roof ridge and 15,000 to transport the materials. OK, i had omitted transport costs, so I paid up.

Today, I was again called over by the Fundi, who this time had brought 4 workers with him. It turns out we need to buy some bricks and cement to block up the gap at the end of the roof which will be created by the new shape of the roof. I was annoyed no-one had thought to mention this to me before, but agreed it was a necessary cost. He first said we needed 200 bricks!!!! Bearing in mind these are large breezeblock type bricks. I put my foot down at that and pointed out, with the aid of a handy piece of paper as a measuring tool, that we probably only needed about 60. After much discussion, we agreed that we would actually only get 50. Plus two bags of cement. Plus transport. Plus the wood needed cutting to a different size. Plus transport. Plus another labourer to cut a branch off a tree that was directly in our way. Plus....???

I put my foot down at that point and asked him to wrack his brains and think whether there would be any other hidden extras that we have to fork out for. He has said not, but I am nevertheless not convinced. There is always, always something!

Despite having sat here for the morning and watched them work, pointing out kindly that if when the tree branch falls onto the building, if anything breaks it comes out of their pocket, I now have to go out for a few hours, leaving them to continue work on their own. I have to trust them - I have no choice. And I know the new roof will be worth it in the end.

So I'm about to head off for the half-hour walk to the bus-stop into town. Having had my hair braided on Thursday, this walk is now slower than ever. Far more than the colour of my skin, the sight of a white woman with her hair fully braided draws intense scrutiny from the locals. It is all complimentary, but nearly every woman I pass says in Swahili "I like your hair", or something along those lines, which requires me to thank them and answer any other questions, such as who did it, how much was it, did they use extensions etc etc. And any time I go into a shop it provokes whispers and muttered comments from all the attendants. I will be the first to admit that I have not had it done because it is comfortable or because it looks good. It doesn't. And it doesn't! However, it is immensely practical and keeps it nice and tidy in this hot, dusty environment. And it clearly moves me one more step along the acceptance scale among the locals. For surely any woman who has sat for three hours having her hair tugged and pulled into place must deserve recognition!