Pictures - http://picasaweb.google.com/abrohaly
Videos - http://www.youtube.com/user/abroh11
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-1077057896397973432
I weeded out as many pictures as I could, but it might still be overload for some. I lost all sense of judgment for what is interesting to me versus others and couldn't leave many out.
Of the videos, the Hopeful English School kids and the Maasai men and women singing and dancing are some of my favorites. Imagine yourself there. Enjoy.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Friday, November 16, 2007
Zanzibar
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.
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.
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!
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