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.
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