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.

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

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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?

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.

Just an update to say I'm alive and well

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.

First visit to Arusha

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...

Departure Day

I am Tanzania-bound today... The support from everyone has been overwhelming, from family to friends to colleagues to people I don't even know. Incredible. I thank all of you for fueling my enthusiasm. The only thing I'm nervous about is forgetting something, which is no stretch. I'm effortfully converting scatter-brained Amanda into organized and prepared Amanda, if only temporarily. Has to be done. It's for a good cause.

My volunteer placement is at Kitumusote Maasai NGO. Their mission is to ensure the sustainability of the Maasai people's way of life through facilitating women's empowerment and educational opportunities, conserving indigenous resources, and creating environmental awareness. I'm thrilled with this assignment. I re-read "The Worlds of a Maasai Warrior" by Tepilit Ole Saitoti to acquaint myself with the Maasai culture. In short, it's the autobiographical story of a Maasai boy who becomes educated at Harvard among other institutions, and returns to his family. I read it in college and find it just as fascinating now as I did then, only this time I get to make a personal connection with that culture.

Here's the hotel in Arusha where I'll stay tomorrow night before going to the volunteer home base Saturday. http://www.chez.com/jacaranda/ Something about it appealed to me. Not sure if I should be concerned about what is (or isn't) outside the frame of the bathroom photo, but I'm pleased to see toilet paper.

Thank you again, and off I go...