The first part of my last week in Africa was spent in Zanzibar with Katie and Melissa, who could not have been better traveling companions. I was thrilled that it worked out for us to travel together. We spent our first 4 nights at Maruhubi Beach Villas just north of Stone Town, where we were right on the brilliant blue Indian Ocean. The place had a big covered outdoor restaurant/bar/lounge area right on the water. It was very much a "tropical" vacation atmosphere. We were so exhausted the first day we got there. Our departure from Arusha had been emotional, saying good-bye to the other volunteers and the staff and then by chance running into Thompson on our way to the airport. He poked his head into the van just to thank us all again for coming to Tanzania and wish us well. After all that and a relatively nauseating flight we were ready to chill, and that's what we did.
The next day we took a boat ride out to Prison Island, where we figured we'd hang out on the beach and see the giant tortoises that live in a sanctuary there. The boat ride was great. It was brief, as you could see the island clearly from Stone Town where we got on the boat. But it was a beautiful day out on the water with a great view of Stone Town with all its Muslim/African/European influenced architecture and dhows and fishing boats passing by. The tortoises on Prison Island were almost hard to believe. Even knowing going in they were "giant" they still took me by surprise. They looked like little dinosaurs. We got to feed them leaves and some would even rear up to get them. We were directed on our way out to a person who waited anxiously for us to donate to the sanctuary on top of the entrance fees we'd already paid, and then we ate an overpriced lunch at the Prison Island restaurant. After lunch we headed down to the beach only to find that it had all but disappeared since the tide had come in. We walked around on what beach was left and collected shells before catching our boat back to Stone Town. Then we got a ride back to Maruhubi from the taxi driver, Yahya, of whom we'd become regular customers that week.
That night we sat at a restaurant on the shore to have pre-dinner cocktails and watch the sunset and take copious amounts of pictures to try to get sunset shots. We had dinner that night and the next night at Monsoon, a popular tourist spot which serves Swahili cuisine with spices that are cultivated on the many spice plantations on the island. The first night we had forgotten that part of the draw of the place is the interior, where patrons sit on cushions on the floor and are required to remove their shoes before entering the dining room. Being in vacation mode we opted to sit outside and regretted the decision almost instantly as the overwhelming population of stray cats in Zanzibar became more apparent. Nonetheless we had a good time and managed to totally entertain ourselves while we waited...and waited...for our dinner. Our waitress was fun too. She thought it was funny when I tried to tell her in Swahili that I was full, which I'd learned from Mr. Delicious on safari. He also taught me how to say some phrase which I have no idea how to spell (maybe "kichizi kama ndizi") that means "crazy like a banana" that he promised would amuse the locals if I said it to them. People say "mambo", which kind of means what's up, and the most common response is "poa", which is "cool". He said to respond to "mambo" with "poa, kichizi kama ndizi!" and throw in a thumbs-up and I'd be a hit. I tried it many times. It went over fairly well, although no one was doubled over in laughter or slapping me high fives like I'd hoped.
The next day we did a combo spice tour and Jozani Forest tour with a company called Eco Tours and Culture, which I'd recommend. Our guide, Kazeem, was very knoweldgeable and fun. I would never really have thought that walking around looking at trees and plants would be all that exciting but it was more fun than I expected. We guessed what things were by looking, feeling, smelling, and tasting. Vanilla, coffee, cacao, black pepper, cloves, pineapples... Each of us was given a little pouch, almost like a little handbag, woven from palm leaves in which we could collect spices along the way. The young guy who wove them for us followed us throughout the tour and made us little rings and necklaces and even little eyeglasses out of palm leaves. By the end my stomach decided to lash out at me for all the various licks and nibbles along the way. Have I mentioned the public bathroom situation, involving holes in the ground? From there we stopped at a fruit vendor and were able to try all kinds of fruit, most of which I tried to not even look at, but the girls enjoyed them. For lunch we went to someone's house for a home-cooked meal of rice, cooked bananas, some meat in sauce, all cooked with local spices and very tasty. It was a traditional Muslim home, and we removed our shoes at the door and sat on mats on the floor. Fortunately I felt better by then, and that was another of my favorite meals in Africa. Next stop was Jozani Forest, a pretty lush and green forest, and we got to see and learn about the plants and animals that lived there, the most famous of which are the red colobus monkeys. It is the only place in the world where they live. Unlike the safari where we were in a vehicle, we were just walking around amongst them. I found it a little disconcerting, especially when one would be running full-speed directly toward you, but then they'd run right past like you were just another tree trunk in the way of wherever they were headed. You also had to be careful to not stand directly under where someone might be perched in a branch overhead so no one peed on your head. The last stop from there was the mangrove swamp with all kinds of tangled above-ground root systems all around. You'd occasionally hear these popping sounds which I think they explained as just oxygen being released from the roots.
Tuesday we decided to do some exploring in Stone Town in the morning, which you can spend hours doing but you really don't need much more than a day or so. There are tons of alleys that twist and turn in every direction, and to a visitor everything looks the same and it is easy to get lost. We got lost a lot, in fact, but that's part of the fun of Stone Town. Although you do have to fend off various guys trying to become your tour guide. We weren't harrassed too badly, though, and we managed pretty well on our own. It became more and more obvious that Zanzibar is much more of a tourist spot than Arusha and that the locals have learned how to capitalize on it. It was reflected in both the prices and the skewed exchange rate. Some of the souvenirs were specific to Zanzibar and were ones that could not be found in Arusha. Carved wooden chests, spices, replicas of the ornately carved doors for which Stone Town is famous. Otherwise the rest of the souvenirs sold at most shops were the same ones sold everywhere in Arusha although the prices were much, much higher. Zanzibar appeared to be a fair amount wealthier, in general, than Arusha. For example, the cars were much nicer and there were many more of them. We even saw people watching televisions a couple times when driving by houses and shops, which we hadn't seen anywhere we'd been in Arusha.
As it was her last day there Melissa really wanted to see St. Joseph's Catholic church in Stone Town. We were happy to see it too so we set off with a map trying to find it. This was not a case of dumb girls not knowing how to read a map. Those two knew what they were doing. But the alleys and streets there are so intricate and confusing we had to ask several times for help. Even when you can see a building you would be surprised how hard it is to get to it. First someone directed us to the wrong church. When we were close to it we met an Anglican priest coming from it and asked him where St. Joseph's was. He helpfully pointed out how to get to the gate of his church and suggested that we go around to there where someone would help us. We thanked him and went to the gate, where we found we could pay for a tour of the church if we wanted to come inside. Even the man of the cloth was trying to make a buck off of us.
We finally found it on our own. Well, they found it and I followed because I have no sense of direction. It was beautiful and we wanted to go inside and take a look. A very friendly guy who seemed to work there offered us a tour, but we declined and said that we just wanted to go inside and say a prayer. He seemed OK with this and let us go in but followed us and stood by while we knelt in a pew. When we stood up to leave he started walking us around and telling us about the place, and we learned that it was the first Catholic church in East Africa. He walked us up to the balcony and took us outside to the church's school classrooms. In one of the rooms there were pictures of fruit with the English names written under them. Can you guess which one that we all love in guacamole was spelled "overcardo"? We thanked him as we left, and Melissa put a donation in the donation box. We headed back toward the center of town to have lunch, and a few blocks into the walk we were stopped by the same guy who had shown us around the church. He was basically telling us that he had been told to go after us to get us to pay for the tour. We politely declined and explained that we hadn't asked for a tour and had made a donation, and he conceded and turned back. So that was church #2 trying to get into our pockets.
After lunch in town we went back to our room to change to hit the beach. We had been advised not to wear 2-piece bathing suits because Zanzibar is over 90% Muslim and it could be considered offensive. So I had hastily packed an old 1-piece I haven't worn for ages. I found that it didn't quite fit me so well as it once did. If it ever had. It's hard to say because I hadn't touched it in so long. Thank god the scarf I'd bought was able to double as a sarong. Yahya was busy so his colleague Said drove us to Bwejuu, a beach on the east side of the island where a family of fellow volunteers were staying. The tide had come in pretty far by the time we got there but it was such a peaceful, tranquil beach and the weather was perfect. Joanne, wife of Khalid and mom of Bram, 13, and Byron, 11, had gotten some cool henna tattoos so we decided we would too and had cocktails and chatted while we got tattooed up and played with the hotel owner's ridiculously cute puppy. It was the one and only dog we saw in Africa that was a "proper" pet. Joanne and Khalid are great, as are their kids. It was so admirable of them and the other moms in our group to have exposed their kids to such a different way of life at that age. Bram, Byron, and the other kids in our volunteer group - Sophie, Caitlin, Miller, and Macon, all ranging in age from 11 - 14 - were great kids and really took their jobs seriously in Arusha. We ate a fantastic last meal in Africa with them at their hotel, followed by various desserts involving the Belgian chocolate the place was known for. They had tried them all by that time having been there for a few days, but Katie, Melissa, and I were transported instantly to a chocolicious paradise. I think there was a good 3-5 minute period where the only sounds that came from us were moans.
The next day, our dear Melissa left us. Katie and Melissa had been roommates at CCS and had grown especially close. Melissa is from the Detroit area and Katie is from Chicago, where Melissa has familiy. Randomly they figured out that they knew a few of the same people. There was also a woman, Susan, and her two daughters, Miller and Macon, in our group who live in the Charleston, SC area where I live. I found out that their husband/dad was a veterinary surgeon who had operated on my brother's dog. It is an unbelievably small world.
When we sent Melissa off we were all choked up, as expected. Melissa was in Tanzania because she had won a teaching award, the Milliken award, having been nominated by a former student. She is a 3rd grade teacher and is obviously very good at what she does and cares immensely for kids. The prize was $25,000, and she decided that she needed to give something back for having been given that award. Since she came home she started a project called One Crayon to help the kids at Patandi Elementary school where she volunteered. She was stirred by the fact that each kid in the class at Patandi had one crayon to use, compared to the kids in her U.S. classes that have seemingly endless pens, pencils, crayons, and markers. She has decided to do what she can to help Patandi, and here is the link to her initiative .
For the next couple days Katie and I moved to a place in the heart of Stone Town. One night we went to Forodhani Gardens to look around and have dinner. By day it's a waterside park but night comes completely alive with scores of vendors, mostly selling food and shouting for you to stop and give them your business. Among the most popular items there is Zanzibar pizza. It's sort of a stuffed dough with mince meat, egg, onion, chili, garlic, mayo....super tasty, although we opted for the vegetarian version being a little wary of the meat. There were also heaps of fresh seafood, each table boasting a remarkable and colorful display of lobster claws, octopus tentacles, skewers of shrimp, flounder, swordfish... We got a little bolder at that point and decided we had to try, along with some naan and chapati, and it was delish. We spent the days wandering around town so I could finish souvenir shopping. The first day we got lost and wandered out of Stone Town. We had set out in the morning and gone to find the local market where the locals and not so many tourists do their shopping. The market here was quite different from the Tengeru Village market. There seemed to be a much wider variety of goods for sale, more indication that Zanzibar had a fair amount more wealth than Arusha. Once we'd finished exploring we tried every direction but the right one back to Stone Town but through process of elimination eventually made our way back. We were relieved and a little exhausted at that point and decided to have a late morning/early afternoon beer at a place called Mercury's, named after Queen's Freddy Mercury. From there we visited a museum dedicated to Zanzibar culture and history, one of the main exhibits being pictures and letters of a Zanzibari woman who had married a wealthy Englishman and moved to Europe but never fully adjusted to the way of life. Her commentary was quite profound and interesting and mainly focused on the differences of an affluent, materially rich life versus a life that is poorer financially but richer in community. It was notable how her themes still hold much meaning today. I did have a picture of one of the more interesting displays that quoted a letter of hers which I unfortunately lost when my camera was stolen on my way home. However I do recall a quote from an entirely different display in the museum, presumably well known ones translated to English. The one I recall said something like "Oh mother help me because people are really hard to live with".
By the end of our stay in Zanzibar and the end of our souvenir shopping, I think we were both over the bartering tourist scene. We had gotten frustrated at the "inflation" as compared to Arusha and felt insulted by some of the prices we were quoted. Katie drove a pretty hard bargain so Melissa and I had made her represent us most of the time, but I started to get the hang of it toward the end. Of course that was after spending much more than I should have several times, but I learned my lesson eventually and had gone from being a pushover to being an angry American. And at that point it was time to stop shopping!
Katie headed back to Arusha where she would stay for the next couple months to do some additional volunteer work. I really envied her and wished I could stay too but I knew (financial) duty called and I just could not do it. Another sad farewell and we went our separate ways, Katie to Arusha and me to Dar Es Salaam, where I'd spend 2 nights before leaving Africa to come home.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Environment Day in Eluai, last night in Arusha
Friday 8/24 was my last full day in Arusha. However I spent most of the day not in Arusha but in the Maasai village of Eluai for Environment Day. It was a special event and Kitumusote and MWCS had been preparing for it for weeks. Angie and Mark, Kitumusote's sponsors from Los Angeles with whom he had gone to Dar that past week, would be coming and would be the honored guests. Kitumusote was founded in great part due to their help and support.
Katie, a fellow volunteer with whom I later traveled to Zanzibar along with another volunteer, Melissa, came with us to help take video of the ceremony. I'd helped Maurien translate the schedule from Swahili to English so we would have copies in both languages to pass around at the ceremony. The existence of a schedule at all impressed me as that's not so much the African way...pole pole ("slowly, slowly"). Despite our best efforts, the ceremony ended up starting about 3 hours behind schedule. Kitumusote had rented 2 daladalas for the event. We first met at the Kitumusote office at 8am, waited for Kesuma to pick up Angie, Mark, and Mark's brother as well as Zik from CCS, stopped in town to get some breakfast, and stopped in Monduli to pick up some more folks before heading to Eluai. We picked up a Tanzanian woman named Rebecca, who is a teacher at a school in Arusha that is another one of Angie's projects, and her son David. We also picked up a couple Americans, a guy and his girlfriend, the guy spending time in Tanzania working on a project with a Maasai friend, Grosper, who also came along, to build a secondary school near Monduli.
The van Angie, Mark, and Kesuma rode in was probably a few miles behind ours by the time we arrived. Not long after we got there, figuring the other van wasn't far behind, a group of about 30 Maasai women decked out in their finest, started dancing and singing in procession in the direction from which the van would be coming. They met them about 1/2 mile away, and everyone in the van got out and walked and danced back with the women. The ceremony took place outside the MWCS classroom and shop building which is situated on the side of a mountain. From our vantage point there we could follow almost the entire procession of vibrant reds and blues with bouncing white necklaces against the tan background of the savannah, and the closer they came the louder their songs. It was an impressive and memorable sight.
To kick off the ceremony Kesuma spoke about Kitumusote and MWCS and invited some of the MWCS members to speak as well. Kesuma was the only tri-lingual one there (maybe Grosper also) and also one of the only ones who could speak both Swahili and English, so Zik was there to help with Swahili-English translation. After speeches, there were performances by a Lutheran choir and a Catholic choir, all Maasai. If it hadn't been written on the schedule that the choirs were Lutheran and Catholic, I never would have known as their performances were very much Maasai from my perspective. Afer this was the official presentation of the trees from Kitumusote to the village followed by a delicious meal prepared by chief cook Maurien. I helped run food back and forth from the cooking site (a pit dug into the ground for the smoldering embers and massive pots filled with rice, bananas, meat...). By the time I had a chance to eat I had to rush to leave and there were no utensils so I just shoveled rice into my mouth with my hands. It was worth it. Her cooking was some of the best food I had in Africa. After lunch it was true Maasai style celebration. What I found interesting about the way the Maasai celebrate is that everyone participates. Everyone sings and dances. Unfortunately it was getting late and we had to leave to head back to Arusha, but I imagine that celebration continued for hours.
The 3 weeks had gone by so quickly and he had been so busy the entire time with traveling to Dar, preparing for Environment Day, preparing for Maasai Cultural Safaris... Kesuma didn't even realize I was leaving until I handed him his office key and his flash "disky" and said good-bye. We said a hurried good-bye, and it was back to Arusha for our last night at CCS. Fortunately I got a chance to visit Kesuma a couple months later in Los Angeles while he was staying with Angie and Mark, who were kind enough to invite me to stay with them for a weekend. It was good fun walking down Sunset Blvd with a fully geared out Maasai.
When we got back to Arusha some of us went to Said's Pub outside the CCS gate to have a few beers and spend our last evening together and say good-bye to some of the Tanzanian friends we had made. When saying good-byes what struck me was how profusely thankful everyone was to us. From the CCS staff to the people we'd worked with at our placements to Thompson to Elly and Temba. They thanked us over and over and truly appreciated that we took the time to come there and made sure to let us know that. They said that they knew that we cared because we were there. It made me feel sad and even guilty in some ways because I knew that in a matter of weeks I'd be back into my old routine in my comfy house on my comfy couch...and relishing in that comfort. And that has happened, but I have not forgotten Africa and I have been keeping in touch with the people I met there and hope to continue to do so. I hope that by sharing my experience it's at least a tiny bit as educational as the experience itself was. I hope that anyone who has followed it and who hasn't had an experience like it has a new awareness of different ways of life that are happening all over the world this very moment.
Katie, a fellow volunteer with whom I later traveled to Zanzibar along with another volunteer, Melissa, came with us to help take video of the ceremony. I'd helped Maurien translate the schedule from Swahili to English so we would have copies in both languages to pass around at the ceremony. The existence of a schedule at all impressed me as that's not so much the African way...pole pole ("slowly, slowly"). Despite our best efforts, the ceremony ended up starting about 3 hours behind schedule. Kitumusote had rented 2 daladalas for the event. We first met at the Kitumusote office at 8am, waited for Kesuma to pick up Angie, Mark, and Mark's brother as well as Zik from CCS, stopped in town to get some breakfast, and stopped in Monduli to pick up some more folks before heading to Eluai. We picked up a Tanzanian woman named Rebecca, who is a teacher at a school in Arusha that is another one of Angie's projects, and her son David. We also picked up a couple Americans, a guy and his girlfriend, the guy spending time in Tanzania working on a project with a Maasai friend, Grosper, who also came along, to build a secondary school near Monduli.
The van Angie, Mark, and Kesuma rode in was probably a few miles behind ours by the time we arrived. Not long after we got there, figuring the other van wasn't far behind, a group of about 30 Maasai women decked out in their finest, started dancing and singing in procession in the direction from which the van would be coming. They met them about 1/2 mile away, and everyone in the van got out and walked and danced back with the women. The ceremony took place outside the MWCS classroom and shop building which is situated on the side of a mountain. From our vantage point there we could follow almost the entire procession of vibrant reds and blues with bouncing white necklaces against the tan background of the savannah, and the closer they came the louder their songs. It was an impressive and memorable sight.
To kick off the ceremony Kesuma spoke about Kitumusote and MWCS and invited some of the MWCS members to speak as well. Kesuma was the only tri-lingual one there (maybe Grosper also) and also one of the only ones who could speak both Swahili and English, so Zik was there to help with Swahili-English translation. After speeches, there were performances by a Lutheran choir and a Catholic choir, all Maasai. If it hadn't been written on the schedule that the choirs were Lutheran and Catholic, I never would have known as their performances were very much Maasai from my perspective. Afer this was the official presentation of the trees from Kitumusote to the village followed by a delicious meal prepared by chief cook Maurien. I helped run food back and forth from the cooking site (a pit dug into the ground for the smoldering embers and massive pots filled with rice, bananas, meat...). By the time I had a chance to eat I had to rush to leave and there were no utensils so I just shoveled rice into my mouth with my hands. It was worth it. Her cooking was some of the best food I had in Africa. After lunch it was true Maasai style celebration. What I found interesting about the way the Maasai celebrate is that everyone participates. Everyone sings and dances. Unfortunately it was getting late and we had to leave to head back to Arusha, but I imagine that celebration continued for hours.
The 3 weeks had gone by so quickly and he had been so busy the entire time with traveling to Dar, preparing for Environment Day, preparing for Maasai Cultural Safaris... Kesuma didn't even realize I was leaving until I handed him his office key and his flash "disky" and said good-bye. We said a hurried good-bye, and it was back to Arusha for our last night at CCS. Fortunately I got a chance to visit Kesuma a couple months later in Los Angeles while he was staying with Angie and Mark, who were kind enough to invite me to stay with them for a weekend. It was good fun walking down Sunset Blvd with a fully geared out Maasai.
When we got back to Arusha some of us went to Said's Pub outside the CCS gate to have a few beers and spend our last evening together and say good-bye to some of the Tanzanian friends we had made. When saying good-byes what struck me was how profusely thankful everyone was to us. From the CCS staff to the people we'd worked with at our placements to Thompson to Elly and Temba. They thanked us over and over and truly appreciated that we took the time to come there and made sure to let us know that. They said that they knew that we cared because we were there. It made me feel sad and even guilty in some ways because I knew that in a matter of weeks I'd be back into my old routine in my comfy house on my comfy couch...and relishing in that comfort. And that has happened, but I have not forgotten Africa and I have been keeping in touch with the people I met there and hope to continue to do so. I hope that by sharing my experience it's at least a tiny bit as educational as the experience itself was. I hope that anyone who has followed it and who hasn't had an experience like it has a new awareness of different ways of life that are happening all over the world this very moment.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Thompson and Hopeful English School
Thursday 8/23 was one of the most memorable days from my time in Africa. I'd heard a little about Thompson, a former CCS guard who had built a school, and I'd heard that a visit to his school was well worth the trip. It could not have been more true.
Thompson had helped build the CCS Home Base. After the project was complete, Thompson approached Mama Simba about getting a permanent job there. She told him that the volunteers who come there do not speak Swahili and that in order to work there he would have to be able to speak English. Knowing that this could be an excellent opportunity for him and his family, he was determined to get that job. Supporting a wife and 3 children, he could not afford to take classes. He bought books and "rented a teacher" (hired a tutor) and studied for a couple hours each night. After he had learned just enough of the greetings and pleasantries to get by, he went back to Mama Simba and she hired him as a guard. Just from having that job and from spending time talking to volunteers, his English continued to improve. Realizing how beneficial learning English had been for him, he decided that his children needed the skill too and started tutoring them after they came home from school. A couple kids from families nearby in his village started coming over to take part, and then a couple more, and then a couple more. Before he knew it, he was building classrooms outside his house.
Thompson is one of those people who smiles with his eyes and whom you cannot help but to like, so it is easy to understand why many past CCS volunteers became friendly with him. Through volunteer contributions and assistance, Thompson has built 2 classrooms and has gotten desks and tables and chairs for the kids. He named the school Hopeful English School, and he now has around 50 or more kids separated into 2 classes of younger and older kids. The kids who come there are the poorest of the poor whose families would never be able to afford private schools where they are more likely to have a better quality education. They give the kids porridge at the school, and some of them might not eat another meal some of those days. Thompson was able to find a fantastic teacher for the school who receives no payment other than occasional meals with Thompson and his family. The teacher is there because he cares about the kids and loves what he does, and it shows. The kids love to come there so much that they show up on holidays and days when there is no school. They hang around and play just because they love being there.
Visitors to Hopeful English School are treated to a first class performance. We went into the classroom and sat while the teacher lined the kids up at the front of the room. Even just lining up they laughed and had fun, and the rapport the teacher had with these kids was apparent. This was so refreshing after hearing the stories of how dry and dull school could be in many of the government schools. Once they were in place, every kid stepped forward in turn and told us in English their names, where they went to school, and what they want to be in the future. The most popular answers were teacher and nurse, and we even heard journalist and soldier. After we learned everyone's names they performed several songs with dances for us. It was funny how quiet and shy some of them were when they had spoken, but not one of them was afraid to dance and sing out strong and loud. I watched these kids with wide smiles in dirty and tattered clothes who may or may not have had a decent meal that day, so proud to be performing for us and thrilled be there, and I was moved in a way that will always stick with me. The pillar of strength that I am, I could not help but to cry. There was a little boy of about 11 named Elijah who spoke particularly good English and obviously loved practicing it. He stuck close to us and talked to us the entire time we were there. He asked me why I was crying, and I smiled and before I could answer he said "Is it because you are happy?" I told him that was exactly why. Elijah wanted to be a journalist, and he was eager to try to use Michelle's camera. He seemed to pick it up pretty quickly too. I hope he gets the opportunity to try again in the near future.
Unfortunately Thompson was no longer working at CCS by the time we arrived. Mama Simba had approached him one day a couple weeks before we came and suggested that he had been disloyal to her and/or to CCS. As of the day we visited him he did not know why she made this accusation, but he did not feel comfortable continuing to work there and feel distrusted when he had been there for so long knew his loyalty. Therefore he was unemployed at the time of our visit. CCS has a policy that forbids staff from accepting tips from volunteers. Some volunteers were speculating that the contributions he had been given by volunteers for his school may have somehow been what caused Mama Simba to suggest this. Again, this is purely speculative and I don't know her reasons. But I know that I feel lucky to have visited his school and to have seen what he has done. Seeing his face beaming while the kids sang and danced was as moving as seeing them perform.
Thompson's school is the perfect illustration of the residual effects of volunteerism. This was one time in Africa when I was most inclined to empty my wallet. The efforts of Thompson and the teacher and their effects were undeniable. I did not view this as any sort of unproductive handout but as a most valuable and worthwhile movement whose accomplishments I had been able to personally witness. Thompson's story is also one that is telling of the importance of education. More specifically, it exemplifies how beneficial it is for kids in Tanzania to learn English. It promotes their success in secondary school, and it provides the plain advantages of being able to communicate with such a large proportion of visitors, tourists and otherwise, to the country.
Here is some video I took of the kids singing:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f26rfYeA0J4
Here is some video another volunteer, Christy, took the same day that I just happened to find on YouTube when I posted mine:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7m9EQFj-yM&feature=related
Thompson had helped build the CCS Home Base. After the project was complete, Thompson approached Mama Simba about getting a permanent job there. She told him that the volunteers who come there do not speak Swahili and that in order to work there he would have to be able to speak English. Knowing that this could be an excellent opportunity for him and his family, he was determined to get that job. Supporting a wife and 3 children, he could not afford to take classes. He bought books and "rented a teacher" (hired a tutor) and studied for a couple hours each night. After he had learned just enough of the greetings and pleasantries to get by, he went back to Mama Simba and she hired him as a guard. Just from having that job and from spending time talking to volunteers, his English continued to improve. Realizing how beneficial learning English had been for him, he decided that his children needed the skill too and started tutoring them after they came home from school. A couple kids from families nearby in his village started coming over to take part, and then a couple more, and then a couple more. Before he knew it, he was building classrooms outside his house.
Thompson is one of those people who smiles with his eyes and whom you cannot help but to like, so it is easy to understand why many past CCS volunteers became friendly with him. Through volunteer contributions and assistance, Thompson has built 2 classrooms and has gotten desks and tables and chairs for the kids. He named the school Hopeful English School, and he now has around 50 or more kids separated into 2 classes of younger and older kids. The kids who come there are the poorest of the poor whose families would never be able to afford private schools where they are more likely to have a better quality education. They give the kids porridge at the school, and some of them might not eat another meal some of those days. Thompson was able to find a fantastic teacher for the school who receives no payment other than occasional meals with Thompson and his family. The teacher is there because he cares about the kids and loves what he does, and it shows. The kids love to come there so much that they show up on holidays and days when there is no school. They hang around and play just because they love being there.
Visitors to Hopeful English School are treated to a first class performance. We went into the classroom and sat while the teacher lined the kids up at the front of the room. Even just lining up they laughed and had fun, and the rapport the teacher had with these kids was apparent. This was so refreshing after hearing the stories of how dry and dull school could be in many of the government schools. Once they were in place, every kid stepped forward in turn and told us in English their names, where they went to school, and what they want to be in the future. The most popular answers were teacher and nurse, and we even heard journalist and soldier. After we learned everyone's names they performed several songs with dances for us. It was funny how quiet and shy some of them were when they had spoken, but not one of them was afraid to dance and sing out strong and loud. I watched these kids with wide smiles in dirty and tattered clothes who may or may not have had a decent meal that day, so proud to be performing for us and thrilled be there, and I was moved in a way that will always stick with me. The pillar of strength that I am, I could not help but to cry. There was a little boy of about 11 named Elijah who spoke particularly good English and obviously loved practicing it. He stuck close to us and talked to us the entire time we were there. He asked me why I was crying, and I smiled and before I could answer he said "Is it because you are happy?" I told him that was exactly why. Elijah wanted to be a journalist, and he was eager to try to use Michelle's camera. He seemed to pick it up pretty quickly too. I hope he gets the opportunity to try again in the near future.
Unfortunately Thompson was no longer working at CCS by the time we arrived. Mama Simba had approached him one day a couple weeks before we came and suggested that he had been disloyal to her and/or to CCS. As of the day we visited him he did not know why she made this accusation, but he did not feel comfortable continuing to work there and feel distrusted when he had been there for so long knew his loyalty. Therefore he was unemployed at the time of our visit. CCS has a policy that forbids staff from accepting tips from volunteers. Some volunteers were speculating that the contributions he had been given by volunteers for his school may have somehow been what caused Mama Simba to suggest this. Again, this is purely speculative and I don't know her reasons. But I know that I feel lucky to have visited his school and to have seen what he has done. Seeing his face beaming while the kids sang and danced was as moving as seeing them perform.
Thompson's school is the perfect illustration of the residual effects of volunteerism. This was one time in Africa when I was most inclined to empty my wallet. The efforts of Thompson and the teacher and their effects were undeniable. I did not view this as any sort of unproductive handout but as a most valuable and worthwhile movement whose accomplishments I had been able to personally witness. Thompson's story is also one that is telling of the importance of education. More specifically, it exemplifies how beneficial it is for kids in Tanzania to learn English. It promotes their success in secondary school, and it provides the plain advantages of being able to communicate with such a large proportion of visitors, tourists and otherwise, to the country.
Here is some video I took of the kids singing:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f26rfYeA0J4
Here is some video another volunteer, Christy, took the same day that I just happened to find on YouTube when I posted mine:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7m9EQFj-yM&feature=related
Printing success, learning more about friends in Arusha
On Weds 8/22 Kesuma was back from his trip to Dar. Having been trying for days to print some brochures for him, he had his friend Lekishon accompany me into town to a particular internet cafe with reliable service. Lekishon and his brother Samwel, both Maasai warriors, are taking classes to be tour guides and conduct Maasai Cultural Safaris for Kitumusote when Kesuma is unavailable. Several of my fellow volunteers went with them while Kesuma was in Dar. Everyone was bummed when they first learned that Kesuma wouldn't be there, but they were thrilled with Lekishon and Samwel and had as wonderful and experience as we'd had. Lekishon was so patient and helpful while I took forever to print stuff, and I finally realized that he would have sat right there for hours if I didn't tell him he could go. I assured him I'd be fine and could get back to the village myself.
Later that evening, a couple of us went to Said's to have a couple beers. I spent a good amount of time talking with Temba and learned that he had taken a little girl at the orphanage to the hospital a few times when she had fallen ill. He apparently had just developed somewhat of an affection for this child and had taken it upon himself to help her. I also learned that he and Elly hope to eventually build a school in the community for some of the more poor children. This is one of the reasons they hope to continue to build a successful safari business. He talked affectionately about his mom also, and told a story about having given her some money just to help out and then having visited soon thereafter and she had bought some cookies for him. He just could not get over how sweet she was for it. We talked about Africa and the problems there. He asked me if, after having been there, I thought they were poor. I said that they are financially needy but that their personal, warm way and their ability to enjoy life are some things that many "rich" Americans don't have. I told him it seemed to me that a lot of benefit could come from simply learning about management, particularly of resources. I told him that everything can be considered a business to a point from a safari company to a school to an orphanage, and every such organization or entity has management needs. He seemed to find this an interesting perspective, and I told him that I thought he, in particular, had some business savvy. I encouraged him to look into further education, and I know from talking to him via email since coming home that he has. I hope to try to help him do some research and to hopefully find some quality education opportunities. He's got a lot of potential, and his personality and integrity enhance that to a great degree.
I also spent time talking to Edwin that night, who was one of the CCS-recommended taxi drivers. He's sort of a quiet, reserved guy who I found instantly likeable. He is from Dar and I'd be going there for a couple days alone so I wanted to get some info and suggestions. He talked about how helpful he'd found it being around CCS volunteers, learning English from them and making friends. A past volunteer he'd become friends and stayed in touch with wanted to help him come to Canada or the U.S. to take some classes and get a job driving a big rig to earn some decent money to bring back to his family. Edwin is single and has no kids but worries about his mother, who is in her 50's and has younger children and works very hard to make ends meet. He applied for a Visa with the Tanzanian government, which costs $100, no meager amount. When he was interviewed, they asked him why a single guy with no kids would go to America and still return to Tanzania. He replied that it was his home and where his family and friends are and that he had every intention of returning. He was rejected and has not left Tanzania.
To meet so many individuals with good intentions and good character and so little opportunity was frustrating. I'd find myself in so many conversations thinking "maybe I can help her", "what could I do for him"... I also started to realize that the ripple effect of volunteerism is really just as valuable as the volunteer work itself. To help practice English, make friends, and meet people who inspire you and who you might be able to help in some small way are all positive effects of just being present and having the desire to be as much a part of the community as possible. Thompson's story, which I'll share later, is one of the best examples of this that I came across in Africa.
Later that evening, a couple of us went to Said's to have a couple beers. I spent a good amount of time talking with Temba and learned that he had taken a little girl at the orphanage to the hospital a few times when she had fallen ill. He apparently had just developed somewhat of an affection for this child and had taken it upon himself to help her. I also learned that he and Elly hope to eventually build a school in the community for some of the more poor children. This is one of the reasons they hope to continue to build a successful safari business. He talked affectionately about his mom also, and told a story about having given her some money just to help out and then having visited soon thereafter and she had bought some cookies for him. He just could not get over how sweet she was for it. We talked about Africa and the problems there. He asked me if, after having been there, I thought they were poor. I said that they are financially needy but that their personal, warm way and their ability to enjoy life are some things that many "rich" Americans don't have. I told him it seemed to me that a lot of benefit could come from simply learning about management, particularly of resources. I told him that everything can be considered a business to a point from a safari company to a school to an orphanage, and every such organization or entity has management needs. He seemed to find this an interesting perspective, and I told him that I thought he, in particular, had some business savvy. I encouraged him to look into further education, and I know from talking to him via email since coming home that he has. I hope to try to help him do some research and to hopefully find some quality education opportunities. He's got a lot of potential, and his personality and integrity enhance that to a great degree.
I also spent time talking to Edwin that night, who was one of the CCS-recommended taxi drivers. He's sort of a quiet, reserved guy who I found instantly likeable. He is from Dar and I'd be going there for a couple days alone so I wanted to get some info and suggestions. He talked about how helpful he'd found it being around CCS volunteers, learning English from them and making friends. A past volunteer he'd become friends and stayed in touch with wanted to help him come to Canada or the U.S. to take some classes and get a job driving a big rig to earn some decent money to bring back to his family. Edwin is single and has no kids but worries about his mother, who is in her 50's and has younger children and works very hard to make ends meet. He applied for a Visa with the Tanzanian government, which costs $100, no meager amount. When he was interviewed, they asked him why a single guy with no kids would go to America and still return to Tanzania. He replied that it was his home and where his family and friends are and that he had every intention of returning. He was rejected and has not left Tanzania.
To meet so many individuals with good intentions and good character and so little opportunity was frustrating. I'd find myself in so many conversations thinking "maybe I can help her", "what could I do for him"... I also started to realize that the ripple effect of volunteerism is really just as valuable as the volunteer work itself. To help practice English, make friends, and meet people who inspire you and who you might be able to help in some small way are all positive effects of just being present and having the desire to be as much a part of the community as possible. Thompson's story, which I'll share later, is one of the best examples of this that I came across in Africa.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
2nd Kitumusote meeting in Eluai, more on Kesuma
With Kesuma in Dar, Maurien and I traveled to Eluai for the weekly Kitumusote board meeting Tuesday 8/21. The agenda was to discuss and prepare for Environment Day that coming Friday, when there would be a special ceremony and Kitumusote would give 400 trees to the village. It is a long safari to Eluai, as Maurien says. With a car, the trip takes roughly 2 hours. Neither Kesuma nor Kitumusote has a car, so for us it would be a a daladala to Arusha town, another daladala to Monduli, and a taxi to Eluai. This lengthens the trip about an hour or more depending on how many stops are made.
The other volunteers and I typically left CCS for work in the mornings at 7:30am and returned around 12:30pm. I sometimes got back later if I was doing things in town, and the days that I went to Eluai I was never sure if I’d be back at 1:00, 2:00, 4:00… It was Africa time, so you could never be certain. I was in the office that morning by 8:00am. When Maurien arrived at around 9:00 or 9:30, we walked from the office up to the main road, stopping on the way up to ask a shopkeeper Maurien knew about bands as she was looking for one to hire for her upcoming wedding. Before catching the daladala into town, we went to a roadside restaurant for a leisurely chapati breakfast before setting off. Chapati is a type of bread that reminds me of a cross between a crepe and Indian naan bread. Maurien ordered hot milk and I had tea, and we took our time before catching the daladala into Arusha town. Maurien said we’d “change planes” there and board another daladala bound for Monduli, sitting and waiting until it was satisfactorily jam-packed. The ride to Monduli from Arusha is about an hour, and once there we stopped to catch a taxi, which I got the impression was normally prearranged. That day our driver was a bit late so we waited for a while by the road and then sat down in a café. He finally came and was as cheery as anyone else I’d met there. We exchanged greetings in Swahili, which I’d gotten pretty good at but quickly found myself at the usual end of my arsenal when we got past the “good day” and “how are you” part and he tried actually conversing with me. I probably stared blankly for a second and then told him I knew little Swahili (“kidogo Swahili”), and he laughed and kept up the conversation with Maurien.
He walked us a short distance to where several guys were working on the vehicle we’d be taking. It was a very old and unhealthy looking truck, and I still can’t believe it made the trip. It never ceased to amaze me that the vehicles there maneuver they way they do on the extremely bumpy dirt roads, especially given how old and seemingly rickety most of them were. The performance of this one was especially surprising. With a 2 X 4 somehow nailed in and serving as the dashboard, a lopsided, non-functioning speedometer, and a plastic jug full of either oil or fuel sitting on the floor next to the driver’s legs with a hose leading up under the hood, I thought chances were slim we’d make it to Eluai incident-free. But like I said, the vehicles always surprised me and this one was the most deceptive of all.
We bumped along for a short while until we came to a tree farm where we stopped to buy 200 of the trees for Environment Day. Maurien chose the trees, and we counted them and loaded them up with much help from the driver and a couple guys who I hadn’t even realized had ridden there with us in the back of the truck. After she paid the 20,000 shillings, or 100 shillings per tree (about $16, or $0.08 per tree), it was back on the road to Eluai. We bumped along again, not little bumps but big, four-wheeling style bumps, for the duration of the ride to Eluai. Hot, diesel-scented air from under the hood was exhausted directly inside the cab making it a tough call whether it was better or worse to stick my head out the window to get a face full of dust, so I just alternated between the two.
We stopped a couple times for vehicle issues of some sort involving the driver getting out and the guys in the back jumping down. I pictured random pieces of car having fallen off and being picked up and slapped back on. I didn’t ask. We did not stop, however, for the cows and goats passing by in herds. We slowed, but it was a game of chicken and that livestock had to move it or else. The driver just laughed when I winced as we nipped the rear end of a cow that didn’t take it seriously.
We arrived in Eluai around 2:30pm. Maurien said the meeting would last no more than 15 minutes and then we’d head back to Arusha. Before the meeting the women started with a song about the environment, which they would also sing on Environment Day. This was one of those times when I felt really lucky to be there. In a little classroom in a village in the Maasai Steppe, nothing and no one familiar to me or even resembling me anywhere near, I was not just allowed but welcomed to take part in what was happening there. I made a conscious effort to take it all in.
The meeting proceeded, mostly over my head as it was conducted in Swahili. Although her English is limited, Maurien did translate as much as she could to include me. During the meeting someone outside started shouting, and everyone in the room rushed outside. Everyone was looking across the hillside so I did too, thinking maybe I was looking for a lion or something exciting. Fortunately I did not see what it was they were looking for as it was far less romantic. I learned from Maurien that it had been a woman beating a child. When there was nothing left to see, everyone filed back inside to wrap up the meeting. I didn’t get the feeling that someone had committed some horrific offense within the community. The event was obviously remarkable enough that people jumped out of their chairs to see, but I didn’t see anyone rushing to interject. My impression is that such a thing is a regrettable part of life. Not a disregarded thing or necessarily even an okay thing, but one that unfortunately happens from time to time.
I wondered how or why it ever occurred to Kesuma to think a lot of the things he thinks, especially after having visited the village where he grew up and seeing how removed it is from the rest of the world and knowing that all most of them know is what is there. When I asked him about this and about how he came to attend school and to want to be educated, he told me that when he was a kid his father would beat his mother. He hated this and would sometimes be beaten trying to defend her. When he started to realize all of the things kids who were going to school were learning, he wanted to go to school, too. His father strongly opposed this, fearing that he would abandon his home and his people. He later lived with his grandmother and it was she who finally sent him to school. He completed primary school in 1995 and got a job in town as a watchman a couple years later. With those earnings, he was able to take additional English and computer classes. During this time he became involved with Aang Serian, a Tanzanian NGO dedicated to preserving traditional cultures and knowledge, developing culturally appropriate education and training programs, and promoting inter-cultural dialogue. (This may be where he took his additional classes after primary school, I’m not sure.) He taught English for 2 years in his village and took a class on indigenous populations and globalization where he met an anthropology student doing research. From this, he heard a story told by an old Maasai woman that would lead him to found and name Kitumusote, which means “We have discovered.” Read the story here - http://www.kitumusote.org/story_of_namusu_the_secrets_of_the_bush. Toward the end of the second to last paragraph, it says “On the last jump, Namayen sat on the warrior.” When Kesuma tells the story, he actually says that Namayen shit on the warrior. When Kesuma made his television appearance in Dar Es Salaam a couple weeks ago he told the story, his version. From what I hear, the censors weren't quite ready for it.
Some volunteers were going to town for dinner that night and I'd planned to meet them. Since I'd had no idea what time I'd be back to Arusha that day, I told them if I didn't show up at our designated meeting spot at 4:00, look for me again at 6:00. Our very crowded daladala from Monduli that came frighteningly close to side-swiping a passing truck where my arm was hanging out the window got back to Arusha at about 5 minutes till 6:00. I was still a short taxi away and thought it likely that I'd missed them. The chapati was the last thing I'd eaten and since I'd signed out for dinner at the home-base there would be nothing to eat there. No tragedy, but I'd have to find something to eat in town and then take a taxi back because it would be dark. Happily, I spotted them right away on the corner (the only white people around). I was hungry and worn-out, and so happy to have found them...a sweet end to the day.
The other volunteers and I typically left CCS for work in the mornings at 7:30am and returned around 12:30pm. I sometimes got back later if I was doing things in town, and the days that I went to Eluai I was never sure if I’d be back at 1:00, 2:00, 4:00… It was Africa time, so you could never be certain. I was in the office that morning by 8:00am. When Maurien arrived at around 9:00 or 9:30, we walked from the office up to the main road, stopping on the way up to ask a shopkeeper Maurien knew about bands as she was looking for one to hire for her upcoming wedding. Before catching the daladala into town, we went to a roadside restaurant for a leisurely chapati breakfast before setting off. Chapati is a type of bread that reminds me of a cross between a crepe and Indian naan bread. Maurien ordered hot milk and I had tea, and we took our time before catching the daladala into Arusha town. Maurien said we’d “change planes” there and board another daladala bound for Monduli, sitting and waiting until it was satisfactorily jam-packed. The ride to Monduli from Arusha is about an hour, and once there we stopped to catch a taxi, which I got the impression was normally prearranged. That day our driver was a bit late so we waited for a while by the road and then sat down in a café. He finally came and was as cheery as anyone else I’d met there. We exchanged greetings in Swahili, which I’d gotten pretty good at but quickly found myself at the usual end of my arsenal when we got past the “good day” and “how are you” part and he tried actually conversing with me. I probably stared blankly for a second and then told him I knew little Swahili (“kidogo Swahili”), and he laughed and kept up the conversation with Maurien.
He walked us a short distance to where several guys were working on the vehicle we’d be taking. It was a very old and unhealthy looking truck, and I still can’t believe it made the trip. It never ceased to amaze me that the vehicles there maneuver they way they do on the extremely bumpy dirt roads, especially given how old and seemingly rickety most of them were. The performance of this one was especially surprising. With a 2 X 4 somehow nailed in and serving as the dashboard, a lopsided, non-functioning speedometer, and a plastic jug full of either oil or fuel sitting on the floor next to the driver’s legs with a hose leading up under the hood, I thought chances were slim we’d make it to Eluai incident-free. But like I said, the vehicles always surprised me and this one was the most deceptive of all.
We bumped along for a short while until we came to a tree farm where we stopped to buy 200 of the trees for Environment Day. Maurien chose the trees, and we counted them and loaded them up with much help from the driver and a couple guys who I hadn’t even realized had ridden there with us in the back of the truck. After she paid the 20,000 shillings, or 100 shillings per tree (about $16, or $0.08 per tree), it was back on the road to Eluai. We bumped along again, not little bumps but big, four-wheeling style bumps, for the duration of the ride to Eluai. Hot, diesel-scented air from under the hood was exhausted directly inside the cab making it a tough call whether it was better or worse to stick my head out the window to get a face full of dust, so I just alternated between the two.
We stopped a couple times for vehicle issues of some sort involving the driver getting out and the guys in the back jumping down. I pictured random pieces of car having fallen off and being picked up and slapped back on. I didn’t ask. We did not stop, however, for the cows and goats passing by in herds. We slowed, but it was a game of chicken and that livestock had to move it or else. The driver just laughed when I winced as we nipped the rear end of a cow that didn’t take it seriously.
We arrived in Eluai around 2:30pm. Maurien said the meeting would last no more than 15 minutes and then we’d head back to Arusha. Before the meeting the women started with a song about the environment, which they would also sing on Environment Day. This was one of those times when I felt really lucky to be there. In a little classroom in a village in the Maasai Steppe, nothing and no one familiar to me or even resembling me anywhere near, I was not just allowed but welcomed to take part in what was happening there. I made a conscious effort to take it all in.
The meeting proceeded, mostly over my head as it was conducted in Swahili. Although her English is limited, Maurien did translate as much as she could to include me. During the meeting someone outside started shouting, and everyone in the room rushed outside. Everyone was looking across the hillside so I did too, thinking maybe I was looking for a lion or something exciting. Fortunately I did not see what it was they were looking for as it was far less romantic. I learned from Maurien that it had been a woman beating a child. When there was nothing left to see, everyone filed back inside to wrap up the meeting. I didn’t get the feeling that someone had committed some horrific offense within the community. The event was obviously remarkable enough that people jumped out of their chairs to see, but I didn’t see anyone rushing to interject. My impression is that such a thing is a regrettable part of life. Not a disregarded thing or necessarily even an okay thing, but one that unfortunately happens from time to time.
I wondered how or why it ever occurred to Kesuma to think a lot of the things he thinks, especially after having visited the village where he grew up and seeing how removed it is from the rest of the world and knowing that all most of them know is what is there. When I asked him about this and about how he came to attend school and to want to be educated, he told me that when he was a kid his father would beat his mother. He hated this and would sometimes be beaten trying to defend her. When he started to realize all of the things kids who were going to school were learning, he wanted to go to school, too. His father strongly opposed this, fearing that he would abandon his home and his people. He later lived with his grandmother and it was she who finally sent him to school. He completed primary school in 1995 and got a job in town as a watchman a couple years later. With those earnings, he was able to take additional English and computer classes. During this time he became involved with Aang Serian, a Tanzanian NGO dedicated to preserving traditional cultures and knowledge, developing culturally appropriate education and training programs, and promoting inter-cultural dialogue. (This may be where he took his additional classes after primary school, I’m not sure.) He taught English for 2 years in his village and took a class on indigenous populations and globalization where he met an anthropology student doing research. From this, he heard a story told by an old Maasai woman that would lead him to found and name Kitumusote, which means “We have discovered.” Read the story here - http://www.kitumusote.org/story_of_namusu_the_secrets_of_the_bush. Toward the end of the second to last paragraph, it says “On the last jump, Namayen sat on the warrior.” When Kesuma tells the story, he actually says that Namayen shit on the warrior. When Kesuma made his television appearance in Dar Es Salaam a couple weeks ago he told the story, his version. From what I hear, the censors weren't quite ready for it.
Some volunteers were going to town for dinner that night and I'd planned to meet them. Since I'd had no idea what time I'd be back to Arusha that day, I told them if I didn't show up at our designated meeting spot at 4:00, look for me again at 6:00. Our very crowded daladala from Monduli that came frighteningly close to side-swiping a passing truck where my arm was hanging out the window got back to Arusha at about 5 minutes till 6:00. I was still a short taxi away and thought it likely that I'd missed them. The chapati was the last thing I'd eaten and since I'd signed out for dinner at the home-base there would be nothing to eat there. No tragedy, but I'd have to find something to eat in town and then take a taxi back because it would be dark. Happily, I spotted them right away on the corner (the only white people around). I was hungry and worn-out, and so happy to have found them...a sweet end to the day.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
My last day in Africa
I have some other things I want to write about later about the rest of my time here, but I wanted to post one today as I'm about depart in a matter of hours. I'm in Dar Es Salaam now and have been here since Fri evening. I came here after 6 days in Zanzibar. I've actually been a tourist for the last week and not a semi-resident as I came to feel like in Arusha. I think because of that and because I'm less familiar and comfortable with my surroundings here I'm feeling a little overwhelmed and annoyed by constantly being approached as though I'm a walking dollar bill. I like to think that in Arusha I made some friends who came to value my friendship and not just my potential dollar value. Nonetheless, I have to remind myself that everyone is just looking for an opportunity, and I represent that here.
I hope the tiny bit of work I was able to accomplish in Arusha will have helped in some way. I hope that every English conversation I had with someone enhanced their skills a little. I hope that some of the views I shared in those conversations made some sort of an impact as did the ones that were shared with me. I hope the stories I have to share with everyone at home will convey at least a fraction of what I've experienced here and maybe inspire others to go outside their comfort zones and seek a similar kind of exchange.
It's funny how far away this place seemed before I came and now it doesn't. I'm looking forward to coming home and seeing everyone, and if and when I see you I apologize in advance for going on and on... I'll be like the person who wants to show you pictures of their dogs and kids you don't care to see. Humor me. I'm anxious to see what it feels like to be home again. Might feel weird, might not. Right now I'm pretending I have no job because the thought of work is more than I care to deal with right now (sorry any bosses reading this).
Thank you all so much for reading and for letting me know you did and that you enjoyed it. Sorry for the length and thanks for bearing with me. I didn't want to forget anything. Pictures will come after I'm home. See you all soon!
I hope the tiny bit of work I was able to accomplish in Arusha will have helped in some way. I hope that every English conversation I had with someone enhanced their skills a little. I hope that some of the views I shared in those conversations made some sort of an impact as did the ones that were shared with me. I hope the stories I have to share with everyone at home will convey at least a fraction of what I've experienced here and maybe inspire others to go outside their comfort zones and seek a similar kind of exchange.
It's funny how far away this place seemed before I came and now it doesn't. I'm looking forward to coming home and seeing everyone, and if and when I see you I apologize in advance for going on and on... I'll be like the person who wants to show you pictures of their dogs and kids you don't care to see. Humor me. I'm anxious to see what it feels like to be home again. Might feel weird, might not. Right now I'm pretending I have no job because the thought of work is more than I care to deal with right now (sorry any bosses reading this).
Thank you all so much for reading and for letting me know you did and that you enjoyed it. Sorry for the length and thanks for bearing with me. I didn't want to forget anything. Pictures will come after I'm home. See you all soon!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Pete O'Neal's Place
The evening of Mon 8/20 we visited UAACC, United African Alliance Community Center, also known as Pete O'Neal's place. Pete O'Neal is a former Black Panther from Kansas City, MO and was the chairman of the Black Panther Party in that city. After being arrested for transporting a gun across state lines under a law implemented two weeks prior to his arrest, he fled to Algeria and then Tanzania, where he has been living in exile with his wife Charlotte for 37 years. He claims he had the gun but did not take it across state lines and that the charges were trumped up and politically motivated. Charlotte was 19 years old at the time and had never left Kansas City. When they first stepped off the plane in TZ, Charlotte immediately felt like she had come home. Pete, however, says that he had a foreboding feeling. They have made their lives in Tanzania and are dedicated to serving the community in which they live, which is in the village of Imbaseni near Arusha. Charlotte and Pete co-founded UAACC, which offers free art, music, film and other classes to anyone in the community.
Another former Panther and friend of Pete's, Geronimo ji Jaga, was released in 1997 after spending 27 years in prison, the first 8 in solitary confinement, for a murder he did not commit. He received $4.5 million in restitution and has donated money to help Pete and Charlotte ensure that there is an ample water supply at UAACC.
Pete is very funny and entertaining and has a special ability to command a crowd, and we were all somewhat enraptured as he spoke, even Zik. He expresses regret for aspects of his former self. He once declared he wanted to shoot his way in the House of Representatives and take the head of one of the members. He also spent a period of time before becoming a Panther striving to be a pimp. This, in particular, seems to be the most regrettable period of time for him. He harbors intense guilt over the way he treated girls who he says he knows were someone's daughters, sisters, and friends.
UAACC has sort of a hippy commune type feel to it. Their dog, Blackie, even has dreadlocks in his tail to match the ones on Pete's head, but Pete swears they formed naturally. All of the outside walls and the buildings, hut-type structures, are colorfully painted with art and various messages like "Freedom is never given, it is won." The center has been visited by celebrities, such as Sean and Robin Wright Penn, American politicians, students, documentary film makers, and artists. We watched part of a documentary entitled "A Panther in Africa" by an American film student that tells Pete and Charlotte's story. Kesuma even makes a cameo appearance and is shown conducting a Maasai Cultural Safari for a couple of young African American men. Later in the film the American guys try teaching Kesuma how to shoot a basketball, of course in traditional Maasai clothing, as always. My friend Katie, a fellow CCS volunteer with whom I traveled to Zanzibar along with our friend Melissa, is staying on in Arusha and has made plans to stay and work at UAACC teaching some computer classes. I can't wait to hear all about it.
Another former Panther and friend of Pete's, Geronimo ji Jaga, was released in 1997 after spending 27 years in prison, the first 8 in solitary confinement, for a murder he did not commit. He received $4.5 million in restitution and has donated money to help Pete and Charlotte ensure that there is an ample water supply at UAACC.
Pete is very funny and entertaining and has a special ability to command a crowd, and we were all somewhat enraptured as he spoke, even Zik. He expresses regret for aspects of his former self. He once declared he wanted to shoot his way in the House of Representatives and take the head of one of the members. He also spent a period of time before becoming a Panther striving to be a pimp. This, in particular, seems to be the most regrettable period of time for him. He harbors intense guilt over the way he treated girls who he says he knows were someone's daughters, sisters, and friends.
UAACC has sort of a hippy commune type feel to it. Their dog, Blackie, even has dreadlocks in his tail to match the ones on Pete's head, but Pete swears they formed naturally. All of the outside walls and the buildings, hut-type structures, are colorfully painted with art and various messages like "Freedom is never given, it is won." The center has been visited by celebrities, such as Sean and Robin Wright Penn, American politicians, students, documentary film makers, and artists. We watched part of a documentary entitled "A Panther in Africa" by an American film student that tells Pete and Charlotte's story. Kesuma even makes a cameo appearance and is shown conducting a Maasai Cultural Safari for a couple of young African American men. Later in the film the American guys try teaching Kesuma how to shoot a basketball, of course in traditional Maasai clothing, as always. My friend Katie, a fellow CCS volunteer with whom I traveled to Zanzibar along with our friend Melissa, is staying on in Arusha and has made plans to stay and work at UAACC teaching some computer classes. I can't wait to hear all about it.
Friday, August 31, 2007
An entertaining rainy day in Arusha
This is nothing deep or revealing, but maybe entertaining. I got a few laughs out of it...
Mon 8/20 there was rain all morning continuing from the night before. The CCS van would drop me off on the main road at the top of the dirt road where I'd walk about ~3/4 mile down to the Kitumusote office. That day it was a mudfest. I had no rain gear, the one major oversight in my packing. I had bought a hideous, large (probably mens), ill-fitting, shit-brown and navy blue checkered fleece-ish atrocity of a coat in town the first week. I got it for extra warmth at night, especially in anticipation of camping in the Maasai village. I chose that as my best defense and wore sandals reasoning that they'd be easiest to clean and dry.
Down I went, a backpack on my back, holding an umbrella borrowed from the van driver in one hand, and carrying Kesuma's laptop bag in my arms like a baby in 2 big sealed plastic bags I'd packed some of my clothes in. It was slow going as I tried to minimize damage. Every step was calculated and cautious to try to keep my feet relatively clean and dry. I made it all the way to the office gate and 5 steps from the gate one of my deliberate footsteps was a bad call and I sunk one entire foot past the ankle into thick mud. I found the gate locked from the inside, which it usually is not. I knocked several times but the warriors who are usually around either weren't or didn't hear me. Kesuma was in Dar Es Salaam for a few days, his Kitumusote sponsors having arranged TV and radio interviews for him, which was very exciting.
I decided to just go back to CCS where I could do some things for him online, so I turned around to head back up the road. Slurp went my other foot into the exact same spot I somehow misjudged once again for solid ground. I continued my ascent with 2 mud-caked feet, a skirt hemlined with matching mud, a plastic-covered baby laptop, a pink flowered umbrella from a guy named Richard, a dripping backpack, and a now soaked but still ultra-fashionable giant man's coat. This was my Kili in Africa.
When I summited I decided I'd earned a taxi ride over a daladala ride, and I found shelter in front of a store on the side of the road. I had bought a pay-as-you-go cell phone and tried calling some of our regular taxi drivers but found that cell phone service was down. Daladala it would be.
Knowing I needed a van with a green stripe headed leftward, I stood while several vans fitting that description stopped. But each time I asked for Tengeru, where I was headed, they said no. This confused me as there is only one road. It goes in two directions, as roads do, and one of them was the one I needed to go. Finally a local couple who spoke English assured me that I was in the right place and told me to keep waiting. The girl kindly took me under her wing as she was headed the same way, and I followed her onto the van that finally got me to my destination. Sweet success.
Later that morning I accomplished sending 3 emails because attachments took so long to upload and were almost lost when the connection dropped. After that was one of my less successful trips to try to print brochures, from which I left with one piece of paper with a few ink spots on one edge.
As they say, "This is Africa!" I still would do it all over again.
Mon 8/20 there was rain all morning continuing from the night before. The CCS van would drop me off on the main road at the top of the dirt road where I'd walk about ~3/4 mile down to the Kitumusote office. That day it was a mudfest. I had no rain gear, the one major oversight in my packing. I had bought a hideous, large (probably mens), ill-fitting, shit-brown and navy blue checkered fleece-ish atrocity of a coat in town the first week. I got it for extra warmth at night, especially in anticipation of camping in the Maasai village. I chose that as my best defense and wore sandals reasoning that they'd be easiest to clean and dry.
Down I went, a backpack on my back, holding an umbrella borrowed from the van driver in one hand, and carrying Kesuma's laptop bag in my arms like a baby in 2 big sealed plastic bags I'd packed some of my clothes in. It was slow going as I tried to minimize damage. Every step was calculated and cautious to try to keep my feet relatively clean and dry. I made it all the way to the office gate and 5 steps from the gate one of my deliberate footsteps was a bad call and I sunk one entire foot past the ankle into thick mud. I found the gate locked from the inside, which it usually is not. I knocked several times but the warriors who are usually around either weren't or didn't hear me. Kesuma was in Dar Es Salaam for a few days, his Kitumusote sponsors having arranged TV and radio interviews for him, which was very exciting.
I decided to just go back to CCS where I could do some things for him online, so I turned around to head back up the road. Slurp went my other foot into the exact same spot I somehow misjudged once again for solid ground. I continued my ascent with 2 mud-caked feet, a skirt hemlined with matching mud, a plastic-covered baby laptop, a pink flowered umbrella from a guy named Richard, a dripping backpack, and a now soaked but still ultra-fashionable giant man's coat. This was my Kili in Africa.
When I summited I decided I'd earned a taxi ride over a daladala ride, and I found shelter in front of a store on the side of the road. I had bought a pay-as-you-go cell phone and tried calling some of our regular taxi drivers but found that cell phone service was down. Daladala it would be.
Knowing I needed a van with a green stripe headed leftward, I stood while several vans fitting that description stopped. But each time I asked for Tengeru, where I was headed, they said no. This confused me as there is only one road. It goes in two directions, as roads do, and one of them was the one I needed to go. Finally a local couple who spoke English assured me that I was in the right place and told me to keep waiting. The girl kindly took me under her wing as she was headed the same way, and I followed her onto the van that finally got me to my destination. Sweet success.
Later that morning I accomplished sending 3 emails because attachments took so long to upload and were almost lost when the connection dropped. After that was one of my less successful trips to try to print brochures, from which I left with one piece of paper with a few ink spots on one edge.
As they say, "This is Africa!" I still would do it all over again.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wildlife Safari, Hakuna Matata
Fri 8/17 - Sun 8/19 another volunteer and I went on a wildlife safari to Ngorongoro Crater and Lake Manyara. We went with a small local company called Hakuna Matata. Note that the last "T" in "matata" is a hard "T" and should not be pronounced "matada", something locals were quick to point out to us after the Lion King has steered us all astray.
2 guys in their mid-late 20s, Elly and Temba, used to work as mountain and safari guides for other companies. They decided to start their own company and after a couple years of struggling and almost quitting, they were able to get it off the ground. Having a small office space just outside the CCS gates is huge for them, and many CCS volunteers go with them. They are trying very hard to succeed in the hopes of someday building a school. Temba, in particular, seems to have some natural business savvy and realizes the importance of happy customers, which means honesty and good service. They do still have a bit to learn about ensuring that all communication is clear so as not to compromise that intent for honesty (there was an incident with a group of our guys because it was not made clear that a certain part was not included in the "package" price), but I do think they're on the right track.
A few years ago they had some clients around Lake Eyasi, which is where some bush people live. They came to meet a young a boy in the bush who had no father, much older siblings, and a mother who could not afford much for him beyond life in the bush. They took the boy in and have since been housing, feeding, and clothing him and paying for his education. For a while he would eat only meat as that was what he was accustomed to. The bush people eat just about any animal but hyenas, which feed on the scraps of other pradators' kills. After a few months he began eating grains and vegetables, and now speaks fluent Swahili. He no longer speaks the click language he once spoke exclusively, but they don't know whether he forgets or if it's by choice. He is about 12 years old now.
Our safari guide, Augustino, has eyes like a hawk and can tell you the gestation period, number of young, and life expectancy of just about every animal you see. He was very personable and accommodating and kept telling us to "be free," meaning to ask questions, let him know when to stop, when to move on, etc. A good guide can make or break this experience, and he was great. I even got to talk to his 3 kids on the phone at dinner one night. They're aged 19, 8, and 5, and their dad works hard to be able to send them to private school for a good education.
Our cook was Abuu, aka Mr. D, aka Mr. Delicious. He earns his nickname and is a happy-go-lucky music lover who played Johnny Cash, Dolly Parton, and local music for us after dinner.
The crater is an awesome open expanse while Manyara is much more forested. This made the perfect combination as the terrain was so different and so the animals were different as well. The animals we didn't see were rhino, leopard, and we barely saw a cheetah. It was so far you couldn't even tell what it was squinting through binoculars. We did see a bit of a stand-off between a lion and a zebra at the crater, which was pretty intense. The lions position themselves near the water they know their targets need to get to. A lioness was lying in the grass about 30 ft from us waiting for some zebra. A lion targets one animal for the kill rather than just running toward several and grabbing any one. It was pretty obvious which zebra was the target as a bunch of others crossed unscathed and the rest were much further behind. The zebra knew something was up, possibly because it was downwind from the lion, so it was a tense several minutes while the zebra stood still and the lion watched. The few times the zebra moved, the lion would start to crawl like it was stalking. I feel a little guilty about it (sorry, Zebra), but I was like a giddy schoolchild. The zebra let out a call to warn the other zebras and started to retreat. We didn't wait around after that so who knows whether that zebra made it.
Lunch at the crater was in a picnic area near a pond. There was a big group of Tanzanian students on a school trip who came to the van and wanted to talk to us and have pictures taken with Karen and me. Karen is my fellow volunteer with whom I went on safari. This might be the closest I will come in my life to feeling like a celebrity on the red carpet. She and I each stood while one kid after another came to pose with us for photos taken by their teachers. I might be gracing the walls of many a Tanzanian household this very moment.
At the end of our day in Manyara, a cluster of jeeps was stopped in front of some trees and people were peering into the trees with binoculars. Augustino talked to another guide and told us that there was some meat in a tree, which had surely been brought there by a leopard, although they hadn't seen the leopard itself. They take their kill up into the trees and eat there. I looked through my binoculars and rather than the chunk of flesh I expected to see, there was basically the entire body of a gazelle draped over a branch, legs, head, and all. Crazy.
A run-down of the animals we saw that I was able to jot down: zebra, wildebeest, marabou stork, giraffe, babboon, buzzard, Thompson gazelle, Grant's gazelle, spotted hyena, lion, jackal, elephant, guinea fowl, crowned crane, ostrich, Kori bustard, lapin plover, buffalo, warthogs, hartebeest, grey heron, hippo, flamingo, cape teal, cheetah (barely counts), pelican, bush buck, black monkey, impala, mongoose, hornbill, gray-headed kingfisher, vervet monkey, ibis, Egyptian goose, African fish eagle, blacksmith lapwing, white-browed coucal
2 guys in their mid-late 20s, Elly and Temba, used to work as mountain and safari guides for other companies. They decided to start their own company and after a couple years of struggling and almost quitting, they were able to get it off the ground. Having a small office space just outside the CCS gates is huge for them, and many CCS volunteers go with them. They are trying very hard to succeed in the hopes of someday building a school. Temba, in particular, seems to have some natural business savvy and realizes the importance of happy customers, which means honesty and good service. They do still have a bit to learn about ensuring that all communication is clear so as not to compromise that intent for honesty (there was an incident with a group of our guys because it was not made clear that a certain part was not included in the "package" price), but I do think they're on the right track.
A few years ago they had some clients around Lake Eyasi, which is where some bush people live. They came to meet a young a boy in the bush who had no father, much older siblings, and a mother who could not afford much for him beyond life in the bush. They took the boy in and have since been housing, feeding, and clothing him and paying for his education. For a while he would eat only meat as that was what he was accustomed to. The bush people eat just about any animal but hyenas, which feed on the scraps of other pradators' kills. After a few months he began eating grains and vegetables, and now speaks fluent Swahili. He no longer speaks the click language he once spoke exclusively, but they don't know whether he forgets or if it's by choice. He is about 12 years old now.
Our safari guide, Augustino, has eyes like a hawk and can tell you the gestation period, number of young, and life expectancy of just about every animal you see. He was very personable and accommodating and kept telling us to "be free," meaning to ask questions, let him know when to stop, when to move on, etc. A good guide can make or break this experience, and he was great. I even got to talk to his 3 kids on the phone at dinner one night. They're aged 19, 8, and 5, and their dad works hard to be able to send them to private school for a good education.
Our cook was Abuu, aka Mr. D, aka Mr. Delicious. He earns his nickname and is a happy-go-lucky music lover who played Johnny Cash, Dolly Parton, and local music for us after dinner.
The crater is an awesome open expanse while Manyara is much more forested. This made the perfect combination as the terrain was so different and so the animals were different as well. The animals we didn't see were rhino, leopard, and we barely saw a cheetah. It was so far you couldn't even tell what it was squinting through binoculars. We did see a bit of a stand-off between a lion and a zebra at the crater, which was pretty intense. The lions position themselves near the water they know their targets need to get to. A lioness was lying in the grass about 30 ft from us waiting for some zebra. A lion targets one animal for the kill rather than just running toward several and grabbing any one. It was pretty obvious which zebra was the target as a bunch of others crossed unscathed and the rest were much further behind. The zebra knew something was up, possibly because it was downwind from the lion, so it was a tense several minutes while the zebra stood still and the lion watched. The few times the zebra moved, the lion would start to crawl like it was stalking. I feel a little guilty about it (sorry, Zebra), but I was like a giddy schoolchild. The zebra let out a call to warn the other zebras and started to retreat. We didn't wait around after that so who knows whether that zebra made it.
Lunch at the crater was in a picnic area near a pond. There was a big group of Tanzanian students on a school trip who came to the van and wanted to talk to us and have pictures taken with Karen and me. Karen is my fellow volunteer with whom I went on safari. This might be the closest I will come in my life to feeling like a celebrity on the red carpet. She and I each stood while one kid after another came to pose with us for photos taken by their teachers. I might be gracing the walls of many a Tanzanian household this very moment.
At the end of our day in Manyara, a cluster of jeeps was stopped in front of some trees and people were peering into the trees with binoculars. Augustino talked to another guide and told us that there was some meat in a tree, which had surely been brought there by a leopard, although they hadn't seen the leopard itself. They take their kill up into the trees and eat there. I looked through my binoculars and rather than the chunk of flesh I expected to see, there was basically the entire body of a gazelle draped over a branch, legs, head, and all. Crazy.
A run-down of the animals we saw that I was able to jot down: zebra, wildebeest, marabou stork, giraffe, babboon, buzzard, Thompson gazelle, Grant's gazelle, spotted hyena, lion, jackal, elephant, guinea fowl, crowned crane, ostrich, Kori bustard, lapin plover, buffalo, warthogs, hartebeest, grey heron, hippo, flamingo, cape teal, cheetah (barely counts), pelican, bush buck, black monkey, impala, mongoose, hornbill, gray-headed kingfisher, vervet monkey, ibis, Egyptian goose, African fish eagle, blacksmith lapwing, white-browed coucal
Trip to Moshi
Thurs 8/16 as part of our perspectives programming with CCS, we took a trip to Moshi which is nearer to Mt. Kilimanjaro. We hiked down a mountainside to a beautiful waterfall. We each got a walking stick for the hike which most of us found a little awkward, but they helped more with the very steep steps on the way back up. From there, we went to see a traditional Chaga house. Chaga is a tribe from around the Kilimanjaro area. The house was somewhat similar to a Maasai boma in material (at least through western eyes) but larger and with a higher, bigger roof. Mothers, children, cows, and goats all live in one, and the father and boys over 7 live in another. The cows were so loud they sounded like they were in stereo and from outside we thought it was a recording. Not as many Chaga live in these traditional houses today, such as Zik, whose family lived in them until he was 10 years old.
Zik is, by far, the best English speaker I've met in Africa. He is very knowledgeable about a host of subjects and says he reads up to 70 books a year (in English). This coupled with his funny and blunt personality makes him popular amongst volunteers. When I first met him and complimented his English, he told me a funny story about when he first started school and asked where the toilet was. Having been directed to it, he found this clean, white porcelain bowl with clean water in it. He was sure it was a trick and that someone was trying to get him in trouble.
We also visited some tunnels which had been dug by the Chaga years before. For Maasai, cattle are their livelihood and most prized possession. They traditionally believe that cattle came from God exclusively for them, so they've been known to be cattle raiders, taking back what they believe is rightfully theirs. When this was more common, the Chaga dug tunnels to hide from the Maasai - them, their families, and their cattle. We got a chance to crawl inside a rare one that has been found. Not everyone was up for it as they were very small, dark, and claustrophobia-inducing. I did go the short distance the guide took us and it was very tight, hands and knees or squatting necessary. There were a couple "sitting areas" where you could stand a little.
After the tunnels was lunch at a place where we had called ahead so that they would expect us. However they'd had a fair amount of other unexpected customers that day and ran out of food. So those of us at the back of the line had to ration. After lunch came the inevitable shopping stops that we'd all come to expect by then. We stopped at a small market and a batik maker. These stops got quite old after a while (likely often CCS staff friends, etc), but of course people end up spending and so the stops will probably always be a part of it all. Not that I was not one who made some purchases...
Zik is, by far, the best English speaker I've met in Africa. He is very knowledgeable about a host of subjects and says he reads up to 70 books a year (in English). This coupled with his funny and blunt personality makes him popular amongst volunteers. When I first met him and complimented his English, he told me a funny story about when he first started school and asked where the toilet was. Having been directed to it, he found this clean, white porcelain bowl with clean water in it. He was sure it was a trick and that someone was trying to get him in trouble.
We also visited some tunnels which had been dug by the Chaga years before. For Maasai, cattle are their livelihood and most prized possession. They traditionally believe that cattle came from God exclusively for them, so they've been known to be cattle raiders, taking back what they believe is rightfully theirs. When this was more common, the Chaga dug tunnels to hide from the Maasai - them, their families, and their cattle. We got a chance to crawl inside a rare one that has been found. Not everyone was up for it as they were very small, dark, and claustrophobia-inducing. I did go the short distance the guide took us and it was very tight, hands and knees or squatting necessary. There were a couple "sitting areas" where you could stand a little.
After the tunnels was lunch at a place where we had called ahead so that they would expect us. However they'd had a fair amount of other unexpected customers that day and ran out of food. So those of us at the back of the line had to ration. After lunch came the inevitable shopping stops that we'd all come to expect by then. We stopped at a small market and a batik maker. These stops got quite old after a while (likely often CCS staff friends, etc), but of course people end up spending and so the stops will probably always be a part of it all. Not that I was not one who made some purchases...
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Education System in Tanzania
Problems and frustrations I talked about last time did not get us down for long. We had a wonderful group of fellow volunteers to share with, and we had tons of fun together so if spirits dropped it didn't last long. Tanzanians seem to be that way as well, so maybe it rubbed off on us. I'm in Zanzibar now with a couple fellow volunteers and new friends, but I'm still trying to catch you all up on the rest of my time in Arusha. Some things I want to remember and that I think are interesting and important to share. So on to the education system...
The private schools are the best, but most cannot afford them and can only attend the govt schools, if they do attend school. Some cannot even afford that, and for the Maasai, for instance, many children aren't sent to school for fear of brainwashing or kids turning their backs on their culture and way of life. The teachers in the govt schools are often poorly trained and the pay is very low. Teaching methods don't leave much room for creativity or free thinking and are very dry and dull with a lot of rote and repitition. Kids might be able to copy or read English aloud from what is written on the board, but comprehension and retention is minimal. Sometimes there is punishment and ridicule for mistakes.
A teacher may be assigned to teach a subject on which he/she has very little expertise. At one school, the volunteers found that a teacher teaching numbers up to 20 in English was omitting 16. The kids would count aloud "13, 14, 15, 17,..." Ineffective teaching of English seems to be the most problematic of all. All subjects are taught in Swahili in primary school, and English is taught as a subject. Then in secondary school everything is taught in English. This is partly because Swahili lacks the vocabulary for higher levels of mathematics, science, etc. As a result of this many kids don't do well in secondary school or fail out altogether. And kids who don't do well but make it through often then become teachers...vicious cycle. It is not uncommon to find a kid just out of school who can barely speak English, so that says a lot about the quality of the education.
English is an extremely valuable asset for the workforce after school. Some of the better jobs are in the tourism industry and frequently require the ability to speak English. Many of the CCS staff and recommended cab drivers, for example, were forced to learn some English to get those positions. It has been very interesting talking to them and hearing that they learned some basic English to get the jobs and have sinced learned a great deal of their English just from talking to volunteers. It's an interesting residual effect of volunteerism, an aspect of cultural exchange.
The private schools are the best, but most cannot afford them and can only attend the govt schools, if they do attend school. Some cannot even afford that, and for the Maasai, for instance, many children aren't sent to school for fear of brainwashing or kids turning their backs on their culture and way of life. The teachers in the govt schools are often poorly trained and the pay is very low. Teaching methods don't leave much room for creativity or free thinking and are very dry and dull with a lot of rote and repitition. Kids might be able to copy or read English aloud from what is written on the board, but comprehension and retention is minimal. Sometimes there is punishment and ridicule for mistakes.
A teacher may be assigned to teach a subject on which he/she has very little expertise. At one school, the volunteers found that a teacher teaching numbers up to 20 in English was omitting 16. The kids would count aloud "13, 14, 15, 17,..." Ineffective teaching of English seems to be the most problematic of all. All subjects are taught in Swahili in primary school, and English is taught as a subject. Then in secondary school everything is taught in English. This is partly because Swahili lacks the vocabulary for higher levels of mathematics, science, etc. As a result of this many kids don't do well in secondary school or fail out altogether. And kids who don't do well but make it through often then become teachers...vicious cycle. It is not uncommon to find a kid just out of school who can barely speak English, so that says a lot about the quality of the education.
English is an extremely valuable asset for the workforce after school. Some of the better jobs are in the tourism industry and frequently require the ability to speak English. Many of the CCS staff and recommended cab drivers, for example, were forced to learn some English to get those positions. It has been very interesting talking to them and hearing that they learned some basic English to get the jobs and have sinced learned a great deal of their English just from talking to volunteers. It's an interesting residual effect of volunteerism, an aspect of cultural exchange.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Problems and frustrations
During the second week, some frustration began to set in. I read that it's a stage of culture shock, so I guess that's where I was. A visit to the post office to mail a few postcards took ages. A visit to make some copies took twice as long. It took me 3 days to try to find a place to print some brochures on good, thick paper and in color (asking a lot). When I finally found a place with the help of Kesuma and another warrior friend named Lekishon, it took hours and I printed only 9. The locals are unphased by any of this, and even that has frustrated me. There were moments when I just wanted to scream "How can you stand all of this?? Why aren't you spending every waking moment fixing it all?" Some of the other volunteers were having some struggles during this week as well. A big issue we've all had to deal with is feeling somewhat useless. We have learned what "Africa time" truly means. We know we have only 3 weeks and that's no amount of time to save the world, but the pace of things makes us feel like we find ourselves wasting valuable time. Someone like me is used to squeezing as much as possible into a workday. It's drastically different.
We've also begun to see the complexity of the problems here slowly unraveling before us. One volunteer found herself in the very difficult situation of having to decide whether the issues at her placement were beyond the normal "cultural differences" and actually making the placement one where her time, or even others' in the future of this program, would be well spent. It was an HIV/AIDS outreach program with little to no organization or management, the people in charge were not showing up or coming extremely late, the leader isn't trusted by the members, and there seemed to be no real work at all for her to do. Morever it became immediately clear that it was her money more than her time that was wanted. Several past volunteers have had similar complaints about the place. We are told that handing out money is not a policy of the program and is not productive. We have really begun to understand why. The adage about teaching a man to fish was never better suited.
Another volunteer, a nurse by profession and placed at St. Lucia, was take to visit a gravely ill woman whose sister had walked a fair distance to St. Lucia to see if they could take her. My friend was haunted by the hollow shell of a person they found and was pained by the feeling that there was so little she could do. The woman, who could barely speak, thanked her repeatedly and my friend thought to herself "For what? I'm just standing here." This was one of those cases where she did feel compelled to reach into her pocket, at least to help with food or medicine, and just to not feel so helpless.
Volunteers at the orphanage and some schools have found that, contrary to what they initially thought, resources and supplies are actually there but are locked away and going unused. Things like baby forumala at the orphanage will simply expire. Although there is drinking water for the orphans, it's so sparsely given to them. Things like this clearly exemplify that educating and organizing and managing are desperately needed at many of these institutions. To me it is this that is one of the most, if not the most, basic problem from which all others stem. EDUCATION. Having had a glimpse into the Tanzanian education system from a lecture/discussion and from the experiences of other volunteers, the problems begin there, and they are many.
We've also begun to see the complexity of the problems here slowly unraveling before us. One volunteer found herself in the very difficult situation of having to decide whether the issues at her placement were beyond the normal "cultural differences" and actually making the placement one where her time, or even others' in the future of this program, would be well spent. It was an HIV/AIDS outreach program with little to no organization or management, the people in charge were not showing up or coming extremely late, the leader isn't trusted by the members, and there seemed to be no real work at all for her to do. Morever it became immediately clear that it was her money more than her time that was wanted. Several past volunteers have had similar complaints about the place. We are told that handing out money is not a policy of the program and is not productive. We have really begun to understand why. The adage about teaching a man to fish was never better suited.
Another volunteer, a nurse by profession and placed at St. Lucia, was take to visit a gravely ill woman whose sister had walked a fair distance to St. Lucia to see if they could take her. My friend was haunted by the hollow shell of a person they found and was pained by the feeling that there was so little she could do. The woman, who could barely speak, thanked her repeatedly and my friend thought to herself "For what? I'm just standing here." This was one of those cases where she did feel compelled to reach into her pocket, at least to help with food or medicine, and just to not feel so helpless.
Volunteers at the orphanage and some schools have found that, contrary to what they initially thought, resources and supplies are actually there but are locked away and going unused. Things like baby forumala at the orphanage will simply expire. Although there is drinking water for the orphans, it's so sparsely given to them. Things like this clearly exemplify that educating and organizing and managing are desperately needed at many of these institutions. To me it is this that is one of the most, if not the most, basic problem from which all others stem. EDUCATION. Having had a glimpse into the Tanzanian education system from a lecture/discussion and from the experiences of other volunteers, the problems begin there, and they are many.
Maasai Cultural Safari - Day 2
I'm so far behind on my blog, so here I am trying to catch up. Thanks for the interest from everyone. Glad my rambling thoughts are turning out to be somewhat interesting. Back to Maasailand...
Participation in the goat slaughter is, of course, optional, but we all decided we would give it a try. When in Rome. They kill the goat by suffocation, which they do surprisingly peacefully and nonchalantly. They hold it down completely so there is no apparent struggle. Still this was the part I could not watch entirely. It was a small goat that most of us would probably rather pet than eat. It let out a bleat when they first grabbed it, and I had an unfortunate accidental glance directly at its open eye as they held it down, which I'm certain was staring directly at me. After they made sure it was dead by poking its eye - one of my friends had that unfortunate accidental glance - they proceeded to skin it and take it apart with their knives and then cook the meat over a fire. I could not watch the first cut, but I did watch the rest of the process, and I was impressed by the skill and efficiency with which they operated. The entire process took probably less than an hour. They consume each and every part of the goat except for the eyes and the brain. This includes drinking the blood. As Kesuma told us, it's food. We were invited to drink also, and a couple of us were planning on at least attempting it, but once we realized this meant slurping it either out of someone's hand or directly out of the body cavity, chunky guts and all, we backed out. We did, however, each get a custom tailored bracelet-type adornment made from the skin which loops around the middle finger, down the back of the hand, and around the wrist. The warriors wear them, and it's considered good luck when it breaks on your hand, which could take a couple months.
Breakfast followed and then was a brisk hike up the mountain to Kesuma's mother's and grandmother's boma, which is a traditional Maasai house. They are round structures made of cattle dung and ash with grass or thatch roofing, and they are built by the women. During the hike we learned about different trees and plants used as traditional medicines. There are medicines for oral hygiene, malaria, colds, gonorrhea, forgiveness (taken to someone you have wronged), rousing warriors... There is quite an extensive pharmacy in the savannah. We passed lots of people along the way as Saturday is market day. Heading to the market were warriors in small groups, boys herding cattle, and women with baskets which would likely later be carried home full on their heads. Children approach with their heads bowed for you to touch their heads. Everyone stops to talk to everyone they pass, and they are constantly joking. They are a very fun-loving group, and we wished we could have been in on more of the jokes as they were all apparently hilarious.
When we reached our destination near the top of the mountain, we saw a few bomas, one of which was Kesuma's family's and one which houses goats. The cows are kept in an uncovered encirclement, but as they were on their way to the market that day we used the area to do beadwork with some women, including Kesuma's wife and grandmother. The women were seated on "mats" made from cowhide, and we were each given a small stool to sit on. We each made a bracelet and then bought a few of the women's wares before we went inside the boma. Kesuma pointed out the "bedrooms," which were bascically just platforms molded inside the walls where people sleep. It was difficult to grasp that it was really someone's home and was where they slept.
All in all, this experience was one that we all agreed we'd never forget. If you ever make it to Africa, I highly recommend it. I happen to know a great guide.
Participation in the goat slaughter is, of course, optional, but we all decided we would give it a try. When in Rome. They kill the goat by suffocation, which they do surprisingly peacefully and nonchalantly. They hold it down completely so there is no apparent struggle. Still this was the part I could not watch entirely. It was a small goat that most of us would probably rather pet than eat. It let out a bleat when they first grabbed it, and I had an unfortunate accidental glance directly at its open eye as they held it down, which I'm certain was staring directly at me. After they made sure it was dead by poking its eye - one of my friends had that unfortunate accidental glance - they proceeded to skin it and take it apart with their knives and then cook the meat over a fire. I could not watch the first cut, but I did watch the rest of the process, and I was impressed by the skill and efficiency with which they operated. The entire process took probably less than an hour. They consume each and every part of the goat except for the eyes and the brain. This includes drinking the blood. As Kesuma told us, it's food. We were invited to drink also, and a couple of us were planning on at least attempting it, but once we realized this meant slurping it either out of someone's hand or directly out of the body cavity, chunky guts and all, we backed out. We did, however, each get a custom tailored bracelet-type adornment made from the skin which loops around the middle finger, down the back of the hand, and around the wrist. The warriors wear them, and it's considered good luck when it breaks on your hand, which could take a couple months.
Breakfast followed and then was a brisk hike up the mountain to Kesuma's mother's and grandmother's boma, which is a traditional Maasai house. They are round structures made of cattle dung and ash with grass or thatch roofing, and they are built by the women. During the hike we learned about different trees and plants used as traditional medicines. There are medicines for oral hygiene, malaria, colds, gonorrhea, forgiveness (taken to someone you have wronged), rousing warriors... There is quite an extensive pharmacy in the savannah. We passed lots of people along the way as Saturday is market day. Heading to the market were warriors in small groups, boys herding cattle, and women with baskets which would likely later be carried home full on their heads. Children approach with their heads bowed for you to touch their heads. Everyone stops to talk to everyone they pass, and they are constantly joking. They are a very fun-loving group, and we wished we could have been in on more of the jokes as they were all apparently hilarious.
When we reached our destination near the top of the mountain, we saw a few bomas, one of which was Kesuma's family's and one which houses goats. The cows are kept in an uncovered encirclement, but as they were on their way to the market that day we used the area to do beadwork with some women, including Kesuma's wife and grandmother. The women were seated on "mats" made from cowhide, and we were each given a small stool to sit on. We each made a bracelet and then bought a few of the women's wares before we went inside the boma. Kesuma pointed out the "bedrooms," which were bascically just platforms molded inside the walls where people sleep. It was difficult to grasp that it was really someone's home and was where they slept.
All in all, this experience was one that we all agreed we'd never forget. If you ever make it to Africa, I highly recommend it. I happen to know a great guide.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Maasai Cultural Safari - Day 1
4 of us did the Maasai cultural safari with Kesuma in his village last weekend, Fri Aug 10 – Sat Aug 11. When I took the college course on tribal peoples that focused on the Maasai, I was fascinated but it all seemed so distant, just something you see in National Geographic or on the Discovery Channel. Being such a small group made the experience very intimate, and we struck gold when we happened to come on the day of a ceremony for a man being elected a leader of his clan. None of Kesuma’s past safaris have had such luck, and it was absolutely amazing. The moment we stepped out of the van, we were greeting by a group of singing and dancing women who were eager for us to join them. Kesuma brought us to greet them, told us he’d be nearby the entire time, and threw us into the mix. They put necklaces on us and held our hands as we filed in line with them in a dancing procession toward the main celebration area where maybe 300 people were gathered, Maasai men, women, and children of all ages. The women held our hands as we made our way toward a massive circle of dancing and singing. We were excitedly welcome by everyone and were definitely a major attraction. I think there was a lot of mutual fascination. There were a few drunk elder men (it was a party, after all), one of whom wanted to just keep touching my face, but some of the warriors and the women took extreme care of us and swiftly reprimanded any such behavior. The experience was surreal, and I will never forget it. We left the celebration with some women and girls who led us to the MWCS classroom, which is a small and modest structure with benches and a small chalkboard inside. We stood outside and danced more with the women and learned through translation from Kesuma about their songs. Most of the Maasai are illiterate and have no access to any sort mass media, so they create songs in order to remember events. Kesuma doesn’t know his actual age, and when he went to get a passport and was asked for his birth date, he told them he was born on the day of an eclipse, an English word he did not recall when he related the story to us so he may also have explained the scenario of the sun being hidden at the passport office. They told him there were lots of eclipses and he had to just pick a birthday, so for all intents and purposes he is 27 years old.
Kesuma dragged us away from dancing with the women, telling us they would keep us there all night long if they could, and took us inside the classroom where we had dinner. Maurien, Kesuma’s secretary at Kitumusote who I’ve been working with, is the cook for the Maasai Cultural Safaris, and the food was fantastic. Maurien is one of the most cheerful people I’ve met here and is always laughing. She is 25 years old and is getting married August 30. She invited me to her wedding, which I would have loved to attend but will unfortunately already have left Arusha. After the meal came my favorite part – the warriors dancing. It was too dark for pictures or video, but the sound alone was stunning. The warriors jump and make these powerful “growling” (I’m struggling for an appropriate word) sounds in unison. As with the women’s songs, there is a song leader or creator who sings what I would call verses, and then the group responds in chorus. The chorus for the warriors is the growling. It is intense and strong and masculine, exactly as a warrior should be. A man’s official induction to warrior-hood comes in the form of his circumcision, which is done without any kind of anesthetic. Each young man takes classes leading up to his operation to teach him how not to cry as crying is the ultimate failure and means you are not a warrior but a woman.
When the warriors left us, an elder man came in to talk to us about how we views the differences between the “old” Maasai and the “new”. The Maasai are not farmers but are trying to learn more about agriculture today in order to survive. He explained through Kesuma that he found it strange that people would eat grass like cows, but he can see the benefits of it and agrees that education is a good thing. Kesuma is very much about exchange, and the man asked us questions about how globalization is affecting us where we live. We talked about how chains and franchises are somewhat taking the uniqueness out of American towns and cities, although there are efforts in some places to preserve character and history. We also mentioned that technology has its ups and downs and that although we have access to things we did not before, there seems to be less direct personal communication. We all agreed that there are benefits that must be carefully balanced with consequences, in both of our societies.
After a very restful night in a tent on the side of the mountain guarded all night by warriors, we woke up early to witness a ceremonial goat slaughter...and I'm running out of batteries so I'll save that for next time! I hope to post more pictures soon too, but if I don't get the chance here I promise to do so once I'm home. Those I will have but I want to get these thoughts out while they're fresh in my head.
Kesuma dragged us away from dancing with the women, telling us they would keep us there all night long if they could, and took us inside the classroom where we had dinner. Maurien, Kesuma’s secretary at Kitumusote who I’ve been working with, is the cook for the Maasai Cultural Safaris, and the food was fantastic. Maurien is one of the most cheerful people I’ve met here and is always laughing. She is 25 years old and is getting married August 30. She invited me to her wedding, which I would have loved to attend but will unfortunately already have left Arusha. After the meal came my favorite part – the warriors dancing. It was too dark for pictures or video, but the sound alone was stunning. The warriors jump and make these powerful “growling” (I’m struggling for an appropriate word) sounds in unison. As with the women’s songs, there is a song leader or creator who sings what I would call verses, and then the group responds in chorus. The chorus for the warriors is the growling. It is intense and strong and masculine, exactly as a warrior should be. A man’s official induction to warrior-hood comes in the form of his circumcision, which is done without any kind of anesthetic. Each young man takes classes leading up to his operation to teach him how not to cry as crying is the ultimate failure and means you are not a warrior but a woman.
When the warriors left us, an elder man came in to talk to us about how we views the differences between the “old” Maasai and the “new”. The Maasai are not farmers but are trying to learn more about agriculture today in order to survive. He explained through Kesuma that he found it strange that people would eat grass like cows, but he can see the benefits of it and agrees that education is a good thing. Kesuma is very much about exchange, and the man asked us questions about how globalization is affecting us where we live. We talked about how chains and franchises are somewhat taking the uniqueness out of American towns and cities, although there are efforts in some places to preserve character and history. We also mentioned that technology has its ups and downs and that although we have access to things we did not before, there seems to be less direct personal communication. We all agreed that there are benefits that must be carefully balanced with consequences, in both of our societies.
After a very restful night in a tent on the side of the mountain guarded all night by warriors, we woke up early to witness a ceremonial goat slaughter...and I'm running out of batteries so I'll save that for next time! I hope to post more pictures soon too, but if I don't get the chance here I promise to do so once I'm home. Those I will have but I want to get these thoughts out while they're fresh in my head.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Work at Kitumusote
We found out just before arriving here that when our program ends the Arusha branch of CCS is closing for 4 months for internal review and training. Many of us have found that our placements have some major dependencies on the volunteers. We have 7 volunteers at an orphanage, for example, who come home exhausted every day, so they are obviously concerned about what the orphanage will do when they leave and no new group comes. The clientele for Kesuma’s cultural safaris has been entirely CCS Arusha volunteers since he began them last fall, so I’m working on helping him market elsewhere, including other CCS branches in Tanzania, other organizations, hotels, etc. When I was preparing for my trip and consulting Lonely Planet, I found that the Tanzanian Tourist Board, which is located in Arusha town, promotes a Cultural Tourism Program. So we visited there to learn how to get his program registered as one of the “approved” cultural tours recommended by that group. I also hope to contact such publications as Lonely Planet, Frommer’s, etc to see if they might give him a visit and hopefully then a glowing review. Kitumusote has had volunteers of its own in the form of college students doing research projects, so that is another potential source of income. He could also really use a vehicle, preferably some sort of van, as he currently rents one for each safari he does. Of course he does not have the cash, and it is next to impossible to obtain the kinds of loans here that just about anyone can get in the U.S. Sustainability is, of course, what we ultimately want to help these organizations achieve, but things are extremely complicated here…and I will save all of that for another posting. In short, I will just say that the problems here are far beyond just needing money and volunteers. There are layers and layers of complications that I would never have fully realized (and surely still don’t) without spending this time here.
I’m really enjoying my time with Kesuma. Yesterday I went into his village for the weekly meeting with his organization’s committee. It was basically conducted in Swahili and Maa but he translated in English for me as much as possible. I had been in the village once already for the Maasai Cultural Safari over the weekend, and I will post lots about that soon. Next week when we go back I believe I am helping the women gather firewood and do some other work (I can hear my brother laughing now) to help prepare for a big event next week where Kitumusote will give 400 trees to the village. Today we ran errands in town to print materials to distribute and visit the Tanzania Tourist Board. He is very motivated and very much a do-er and not just a talker. He is making his second trip to the U.S. next month to talk at Stanford, Ithaca College, and perhaps others. He has some very dedicated sponsors who help him with his trips to the U.S., and I hope to go and see him talk while he is in our part of the world. He is not only motivated and bright, but he is a lot of fun. He is a bit of an anomaly, and it never ceases to entertain me. He always wears traditional Maasai clothing, under which somewhere he keeps his cell phone which rings far more often than mine at home. He opens boxes of juice with his giant Maasai knife, which is always holstered at his side and is like a part of him. He had to leave it at the security desk today when we went into a certain building in town, and I unnecessarily reminded him to retrieve it on the way out. He said he feels it missing when it’s not there. I’ve also been getting to know his friend Leyani, the guard at Kitumusote and also a Maasai warrior. A few other warriors are often around as they sometimes rest there when they’re coming and going from town to their village, which is about a 2-hour drive if you have a vehicle but more like a 3-hour journey otherwise (a couple daladalas, taxis, walking – complicated). The guys are usually outside playing cards or listening to music, so when I’m there I’m guarded by a group of warriors. If anyone worried about my safety here, fear not. When Kesuma isn’t around Leyani and I try to talk each other, which is a challenge given my Swahili and his English, but it’s fun. We write, draw, gesture, etc, and it’s this great victory when we understand each other. A couple times he’s walked me to the main road to catch my ride and I bought him a coke while we waited, for which he thanked me very much in his best English. The other day we were telling each other the names of our family members by writing them and saying them back to each other. I wrote “Adam” for my “kaka” (brother) and he said “Adam. Adam Hussein?” Pretty funny, and I assured him no, not the same.
I’m really enjoying my time with Kesuma. Yesterday I went into his village for the weekly meeting with his organization’s committee. It was basically conducted in Swahili and Maa but he translated in English for me as much as possible. I had been in the village once already for the Maasai Cultural Safari over the weekend, and I will post lots about that soon. Next week when we go back I believe I am helping the women gather firewood and do some other work (I can hear my brother laughing now) to help prepare for a big event next week where Kitumusote will give 400 trees to the village. Today we ran errands in town to print materials to distribute and visit the Tanzania Tourist Board. He is very motivated and very much a do-er and not just a talker. He is making his second trip to the U.S. next month to talk at Stanford, Ithaca College, and perhaps others. He has some very dedicated sponsors who help him with his trips to the U.S., and I hope to go and see him talk while he is in our part of the world. He is not only motivated and bright, but he is a lot of fun. He is a bit of an anomaly, and it never ceases to entertain me. He always wears traditional Maasai clothing, under which somewhere he keeps his cell phone which rings far more often than mine at home. He opens boxes of juice with his giant Maasai knife, which is always holstered at his side and is like a part of him. He had to leave it at the security desk today when we went into a certain building in town, and I unnecessarily reminded him to retrieve it on the way out. He said he feels it missing when it’s not there. I’ve also been getting to know his friend Leyani, the guard at Kitumusote and also a Maasai warrior. A few other warriors are often around as they sometimes rest there when they’re coming and going from town to their village, which is about a 2-hour drive if you have a vehicle but more like a 3-hour journey otherwise (a couple daladalas, taxis, walking – complicated). The guys are usually outside playing cards or listening to music, so when I’m there I’m guarded by a group of warriors. If anyone worried about my safety here, fear not. When Kesuma isn’t around Leyani and I try to talk each other, which is a challenge given my Swahili and his English, but it’s fun. We write, draw, gesture, etc, and it’s this great victory when we understand each other. A couple times he’s walked me to the main road to catch my ride and I bought him a coke while we waited, for which he thanked me very much in his best English. The other day we were telling each other the names of our family members by writing them and saying them back to each other. I wrote “Adam” for my “kaka” (brother) and he said “Adam. Adam Hussein?” Pretty funny, and I assured him no, not the same.
St. Lucia
Thursday 8/9 we visited St. Lucia Nursing Home to learn about the HIV/AIDS situation in the area and to meet the residents there. We have 3 volunteers working there. There are many factors contributing to the AIDS crisis in this area that essentially stem from poverty and lack of education and awareness. Aside from the commonly known ways of spreading the disease, there are also additional ways here like male and female circumcision done in groups and without sterile environments. Although female circumcision has been outlawed, it is still commonly practiced, such as by the Maasai. One of Kesuma’s goals is to educate the women on the dangers of the practice. I believe in the late 90’s the first case of an arrest for female circumcision occurred when a young girl reported her grandmother and the grandmother’s friend having forcibly performed the operation on her. The grandmother and the friend were sentenced to jail time. At St. Lucia there are currently about 15 children and 2 adult women. The boys sleep in one room sharing 3 beds and the girls in another sharing 2 beds. There is a boy of about 3 years old named Joaquim who sleeps in a small crib and who looks to be more like 20-24 months old. For 2 years he could only sit, but they are building his strength and he can sometimes stand holding on to the side of the crib. He is a gorgeous chubby little guy, and I couldn’t leave the room without trying to get a smile out of him. Tickling his feet did the trick, and the resulting giggles were well worth the effort. The kids were a playful and happy bunch, and we played catch around the room with a couple stuffed animals they had. The littler ones liked to hold hands and just touch us. As we were standing in the boys’ room being introduced to each of them, one guy about 10 years old was sitting on a bed behind us and chose the conservative 70-year-old grandmother in our group as his target to tease. He would poke her in the back of the head and then quickly retreat. He was thoroughly entertained by this. Another guy named James who I’d estimate at around 13 or 14 years old is the resident rapper and performed one of his songs for us. Although it was in Swahili and we could only catch occasional words, his delivery was impressive. We later learned from Zik, a favorite CCS staff-member who brought us to St. Lucia, that James has written 15 songs with powerful words that focus on the situation in which he and others have found themselves. There have been attempts to have him recorded to try to get exposure for him, but I believe they fell short when a piece of equipment – I believe just a CD player – was not available. Of the 2 women, one could not speak and was not coherent, and the other was a 31-year-old named Hadija. She was the 2nd wife in a Muslim marriage and she does not know who infected whom in the relationship. There was jealousy between her and the first wife and she finally decided to leave the situation and came to Arusha, a few hours from her home and family, to live with her sister. The sister could not be found and so she found a job working for a woman who is paid to prepare meals for people. When she began to feel ill, the woman would not lend her money for the hospital. She ultimately dmake her way to the hospital but as she could not pay and there was not enough food for her there, the hospital took her to St. Lucia. She has two children, and her family does not know her whereabouts. She hopes to go back home when she is stronger. It was a sad and difficult visit that I struggled with, but Adija and all of the kids loved having us as visitors. The kids running around laughing and playing by the time we left made it completely worthwhile, although the nurses who we left with a bunch of wound-up kids probably had some mixed feelings about it.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Tengeru Village market day, visit to neighbors
Outside of our placements, we’ve done some touring and visiting in the community this first week. Wednesday 8/8 was the “Nane Nane” holiday in Tanzania, which is Farmer’s Day. So we opted to stay out of what was sure to be overcrowded Arusha. With our guides Deo and Bariki, who have taken us around the village a couple times, we visited the Tengeru Village Market on market day. So much for avoiding crowds. It was a sea of people, many of them shouting to advertise their goods, and we were told to be extra careful because pick-pockets abound at the market. There were second-hand clothes and shoes, fabrics, maize, cucumbers, bananas, fish, traditional medicines in the form of roots, seeds, herbs… One man showed us a substance and said, through translation by Bariki, that it was “powerful than Viagra”. Later that day Mama Simba, who is the CCS Country Director in Tanzania, took us to visit a family very nearby in the village who had had a death the previous night. It was a woman of about 40 with a husband and 4 children, only two of whom were living with her. We couldn’t really understand where the others were, and we don’t know what caused her death, only that there were problems in her chest. As is customary, we brought gifts to offer our condolences, which included sugar, rice, tea, and cash, and the family was greatly appreciative of our gifts as well as our visit. A couple of us went inside one of the houses, which I could only describe as a very small, dark room with women lining 3 of the 4 walls and sitting on the rug/mat-covered floor. We removed our shoes and went in to shake each of their hands and offer our condolences. It was a Muslim family, and some women invited us to take our shoes off and sit on a blanket outside while we visited. A few of them sat with us, one of whom I learned was named Cecilia. She was obviously eager to try to speak some English, although she knew very little. I was as eager to try to speak Swahili, and we had a mutual mini-lesson. She was pleased with this, and said “You teach me English, I teach you Swahili” and then said “You come home with me”. The few of us sitting there laughed, as did she, but I’m not sure how serious she really was. It’s possible she was just inviting me to visit her home, which is an example of how warm and communal people are here. When we were preparing to leave, an old man in the family who had been talking to some of the other volunteers stopped us to tell us all to be sure to go home to America and tell everyone that they say hello and send warm wishes. For some reason, this struck a chord with me. The warmth he was wishing to send, even in the midst of grieving, was so genuine and sincere that it was palpable, and I think it made me sad that many people may not fully appreciate it. So if you are reading this, please do place some value in those wishes I was asked to send to you all! And one last note - thank you for your comments and emails. I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to everyone individually, but I appreciate each and every note and look forward to hearing from people. And I still have my camera thank you very much, Adam.
Kesuma and Kitumusote
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My first day of work with Kesuma at Kitumusote was Tuesday 8/7. Monday was orientation day, and Kesuma came to talk to our group after dinner Monday night about his organization and the issues his people are facing. MWCS (Maasai Women's Cooperative Society), one of Kitumusote's initiatives, aims to educate and empower the Maasai women to enable them to support themselves when necessary and give them more of a voice in their society. There are also reforestation efforts which involve planting trees and growing gardens. In the interest of survival and because of the lack of both education and environmental awareness, many Maasai had taken to cutting and selling trees for charcoal, not realizing they were harming the land they depend on for that survival. There was a group of “old” volunteers who had been here for a while and who had already met Kesuma and had been on one of the cultural safaris he conducts to earn income for Kitumusote. They were a rowdy bunch and could be heard from all over the compound even sometimes when we were having group activities or discussions. But I noticed that when Kesuma was speaking they tiptoed past and were quiet as mice. It’s a good example of how respected and admired he is by those who meet him. My first day at Kitumusote, which is in a very modest house in Arusha, the two of us talked for a couple hours about his organization and his people. I could barely keep from pinching myself and kept thinking “I’m sitting in Africa talking to a Maasai warrior”. And quite a remarkable one, at that. One of the things that most impressed me as we talked was the strategy behind his establishment of an MWCS shop in his village. This shop allows people to avoid the 3-hour walk to the nearest market, and being a women-operated shop it forces the men to deal with the women in a new capacity in order to ultimately create a new dependency and respect. As he said it is a bit of a “trick” since this is not something most of the men would willingly do. I found this brilliant, especially considering that this is the culture in which he was raised. After we talked he showed me around and showed me some pictures from past cultural safaris in his village. He also showed me a picture from when he first visited America (he’s coming again in September). Maasai warriors carry with them a walking stick, a spear, and a knife (Crocodile Dundee’s knife is no knife), so you can imagine the issues he had with security at the airport. A couple who are friends of his and who are major supporters of Kitumusote housed him and took him to Disneyland, where he wore his traditional Maasai clothing, as he always does, and they had a picture taken which put their three faces on the bodies of Princess Leia and 2 Jedis. He found it pretty cool that they were able to do that when he was actually wearing something altogether different. He loves to listen to Bob Marley, as all the locals do, and he always sings along. To spend my mornings sitting in front of a computer in Africa next to a Maasai warrior singing reggae…what more could I ask for?
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Tengeru Village
We're becoming more familiar with the village where we're living. As a fellow volunteer said, it's the collaboration of the sights, the sounds, and the smells that can't truly be gotten across second-hand. First, I was most stricken by the trash. Lots of it everywhere, scattered and in occasional heaps. There is one heap in particular in the village in front of a dilapidated structure. There is one main paved road that leads to Arusha in one direction and Moshi (where Mt. Kilimanjaro is) in the other. On either side of that road are dirt roads along which are the businesses and homes. Businesses are very small buildings (imagine the concession stand at the local community recreation park) or shacks. We attract a lot of attention everywhere we go, and for the most part people are very friendly and truly welcome us, especially when they learn that we are volunteers. I think we represent opportunity and possibility. They are always calling out "Mzungu", which means European (but basically white person). At the suggestion of a new friend, a Maasai warrior named Leyani (lay-AHN), I've started to reply "Hapana Mzungu, ni Amanda" to say "Not Mzungu, I'm Amanda". The children here...the most heart-warming smiles. Those who go to school love to try out the English they're learning and are very excited and proud to talk to us. Kids often find us fascinating and funny, and just waving and saying hi triggers a lot of giggles, especially if we respond in Swahili. They love to come and shake hands and just get a closer look. Kesuma told me the first time he saw Mzungu he thought it looked like there wasn't enough skin and that if you'd pinch it "blood would come". So I imagine some of the looks we get might have those kinds of thoughts behind them. Pictures: CCS Home Base, some kids in Tengeru who saw me taking pictures and told me they wanted theirs taken by saying "What about us teacher?", Tengeru Village Market - not on market day, trash heap.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Just an update to say I'm alive and well
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Much to write and not nearly enough time, but I am A.O.K. Communication is far from easy or reliable, and this is my first moment on a computer since my last post. Loads to come when I have some time, but it is 11pm here, and breakfast is at 6:30am. I just came from the "pub" (some walls forming a few rooms/areas and some make-shift roofing) where there was a fantastic show put on for us with traditional African drumming and dancing. Dad, you would have loved it. Said, the owner of the place, knew an opportunity when he saw one and put up shop just outside the CCS home-base compound. It's a convenient place for volunteers to hang out and grab a drink (beer, soda, etc), a dozen steps outside the gate. As far as general living conditions, it is no Hilton Garden Inn but it's really not all that bad. I'm adjusting, although I wish I had more warm clothes as it's been pretty cold at night. I think I've had only one hot shower. The hot water comes and goes. To conserve water because there is a shortage, we use a big bucket with a smaller bucket...you can use your imagination. Let's just say baby wipes are my great friends right now, and I wish I'd brought twice as many. Electricity is also iffy and goes out now and then but not usually for long. The food has been very good, a lot of vegetables, rice, and homemade bread. Some occasional chicken and we ate some sort of meat the other night which we were guessing was goat, and it was pretty tasty but lots of tiny pieces of bone made it a little difficult to eat. We are in Tengeru Village, about a 15-minute cab ride from Arusha. Next time I'll write more about the village and soon also about my placement at Kitumusote with Kesuma, the leader of the organization who is a Maasai warrior and an extraordinary individual as I'm sure you will agree once I've shared more about him. Until then, Kitumusote's website is www.kitumusote.org if you'd like to see what it's all about. This weekend I'm doing an overnight Maasai Cultural Safari with a few other volunteers, which is one of Kesuma's income-generating activities for his organization and which is very popular among CCS volunteers. This was a must for me even before I knew my placement, so I am extremely excited. I hope to get caught up later this weekend with more details of this incredible journey so far. Hope all is well with everyone at home.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
First visit to Arusha
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After a safe and smooth journey, I made it to Tanzania last night. I was greeted extremely warmly at the airport by CCS staff, who came to pick me up along with other volunteers who arrived on my flight. They had my room ready for me at the home-base so I did not stay at the Jacaranda Hotel as planned. A few of us ventured into Arusha town today which is about a 20-minute ride from Tengeru Village where the home base is. We took the dalla-dalla, which is essentially a smelly, overcrowded van. It's 400 Tanzanian shillings, which is about $0.40. They pack them so full that people are sometimes on top of each other, literally. We said no thanks to about the first 6 that stopped because they were so full, though they would gladly have squeezed us in. We've walked around town a little and have already learned to constantly say no and keep walking past the scores of guys trying to sell various souvenirs, who will follow you for blocks if you seem remotely interested. I just stopped by the Jacaranda to settle up since I had been a no-show and they had been very friendly and helpful when I booked my room. The girl at the reception desk just sent me on my way, although I'd offered to pay a penalty for being a no-show. And then I met a Maasai for the first time, a young man in traditional Maasai garb. He came to chase us down as we were leaving, apparently because the boss had heard I was there and wanted that penalty fee, but he spoke no English and we couldn't understand what he was saying and just kept on our way. Another guy, who sells his paintings in a hut outside the hotel, then came and explained and we realized the Maasai man was working there as a bell-boy. I apologized, chatted with them for a while, paid, and now we are heading back to the home-base. Till next time...
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