Usangi Primary - Usangi

Aaron O'Dowling-Keane Oct 08 - Apr 09

The dalla dalla is crammed, there’s a man half sitting on my lap to my right, a small girl wedged between me and her larger than life mother on my left. A chicken tied up in an old biscuit box is squashed between a bag of green oranges, a bunch of bananas and a sack of onions at our feet. Bongo Flava mixed with reggae mixed with Rihanna blares from the tape deck. At every bump the chicken squawks, the music cuts and the fish tied to the windscreen wipers flounder mid-air, momentarily reanimated. Everyone else is resigned to the rollercoaster ride as the dalla dalla (blessed by the blood of God) speeds around and around, spiralling its way up the mountain. As we lean into a sharp bend (I wince as the man’s elbow digs into my ribs) a vast panorama unfolds below the precipice, an enormous lake glistens in the late afternoon sun, reddy-orange houses nestle between luscious greenery and the sky is a brilliant blue. The dalla dalla bumps, the music cuts and a cow can be heard mooing down in the valley. Welcome to the Pare Mountains, Mwanga District, Kilimanjaro Region. It’s a beautiful place.
Over the past five months I’ve worked here as a primary school teacher (attempted a special needs support class which turned out to be far too difficult), run English classes at the women’s pottery co-op, taught computers from my living room, encouraged the setting up of a library and have instigated a young girl’s football team at school. The girls love it, headdresses flying they form a moving dust cloud around the ball and don’t stop chasing it until the bell goes. Maybe football is too strong a word to describe what they do. But their enthusiasm is contagious and the teacher’s think I’m beyond odd when I lace up my runners and join the cloud of dust. At this stage I’m used to people here thinking I’m odd. I am mzungu, mwalim, madam, sir, sister, white man, teacher, Aaron (my actual name), Ireni (by everyone in the drunken village), Ellen (by everyone at church) and now sometimes I’m Dee (another female volunteer, often confused). I am the recipient of a hundred thousand daily habari’s, mambo’s, pole’s and little lessons in Swahili, Kipare (the local language) and life.

Walking to the village after work one day a young man sitting on a rock, contemplating existence no doubt, sees me, yelps excitedly, runs down and gives me a stick. Here the language barrier whooshes between us. As he mimes eating the stick, I shrug my shoulders in lack of comprehension. I’m a vegetarian but even we don’t make a habit of eating sticks. But patiently he perseveres by ripping off the outer bark revealing the white inside which is to be chewed. Sugar cane! We laugh, go “cheers” with our respective canes and I continue my walk to the village munching and spitting with a smile. If giving food is a sign of goodwill, the Pare people are giant pantries of welcome.
Expressing my delight to Mr Ishmaeli one day after discovering pineapple bushes (who knew pineapples grew on bushes?) on my way to work, he says “Ah, so you like pineapple mmm?” and waggles his eyebrows good naturedly. From that day forth he was like a pineapple demi-god humming as he appeared each afternoon with a plate of pineapple offerings. Saidi, his son, is then the patron saint of passion fruit. Flashing his brilliant white teeth he reaches into his rucksack producing passion fruit like a magic trick.
Not long after I arrived in Usangi, Saidi brought me, Emily and Philippa (two volunteer friends from Longido) up Mount Kindoroko, the highest peak in the Pare Mountains. On the way back Saidi’s friend who’d accompanied us invited us in to their house and it’s without judgement I say his friend and his family weren’t well off. But they found cups for all of us, serving the most delicious spicy tea and insisted we stay and have traditional Pare cake. I must say I was very excited about cake. It had been a long day climbing and a long, long time since I’d had cake. But there are many occasions where you realise that English vocabulary is entirely unsuited for the African equivalent, for example, when having a shower is tipping water from a bucket over your head. Pare cake is beans and bananas heated, mixed and left to cool into a solid, pink, lumpy mound. This family were giving us all they had and we couldn’t say no. With weak smiles we ate a big spoonful each, toasted his wife and then gulped down as much tea as we could. Not one of the recipes I’m going to take home but another example of the Pare people’s infinite generosity.
At church, there are three collections. If people can’t afford to contribute they often bring food from their home, some fruit or maize or grass for the cow, and at the end of the service it is auctioned to the congregation. And this is why I can now say a reverend bought me two eggs. Attending service one Sunday with John, we were given front row seats, a Swahili bible to follow the service, an introduction to everyone at church and a number of prayers dedicated to us. Everyone was incredibly kind and welcoming and the singing was really beautiful. Then the food auction took off and before I knew it I had two eggs in my lap and another parishioner had bought me two pineapples. In an attempt to get involved I bid on three pomegranates until I was out-bidded by the gentleman in the back row only to be given the pomegranates regardless. Walked back home after service that sunny Sunday with a bag of food. The Pare pantry of welcome strikes again.
The other day as I was heading home from the village, do not underestimate the thirty minute up hill slog that “heading home” entails, I was greeted by two men with a jackfruit sitting on a step. “Karibu” they invited, “Asante” I acquiesced. So the three of us sat in the shade of the afternoon and ate jackfruit. A number of people passed us and they too were invited to have some, which more often than not they did. And as I sat there with my fingers covered in the sticky latex gloop of the super sweet fruit, companionably chatting about nothing at all, I thought how lucky I was to be living in the Pare mountains.

TAN-EDAPS - Maji ya Chai

Tom Miles January - February 2009

I am writing this sitting in my office in Leicestershire looking out of my window at a grey cloudy and cold day. Only a couple of weeks ago I was in Maji Ya Chai, a village about an hours daladala ride from Arusha, looking out of my office window onto the garden with a laden pomegranite tree in full 36 degrees C sunshine.

It all started with a mid life crisis. An ambitious plan to throw in everything I have, and head off around the world by motorbike, condensed into an achievable aim of a six week adventure with the spin off benefit of doing something worthwhile for my fellow man. After much internet searching I discovered Mondo Challenge and duly headed down to Newbury to find out what opportunities they might be able to offer. I was willing to go anywhere in the world where I could do something useful in a 6 week period starting in January. This is a time when I could get away from my business without too much damage. After a very useful chat Tanzania became my chosen destination. I confess that I knew almost nothing about the country! The main reasons I chose it were that it offered a chance to help with business development as opposed to teaching and that I was told working there was a challenge…red rag to a bull!

Arrival

To be perfectly honest I did not have any idea what I was going to do in Tanzania until I got there. There had been a lot going on in my life in 2008 and I had decided to leave this adventure to fate. (If you are not so trusting to fate as I was, I strongly suggest more in depth research before you go.)

Reading back through my journal (thanks to my girlfriend Clare for suggesting I write one) I see I was very surprised how easy everything was. I promise I have not succumbed to African corruption when I say that Mondo Challenge do a good job for the money. No hassle in Nairobi, the bus leaving for Arusha from almost outside the hotel door. Friendly helpful people everywhere. (I found that throughout my time in Tanzania polite greetings in Kiswahili followed by firm but friendly refusal to buy the product or service I did not want, led to some lively and interesting banter about life in general on the streets of Arusha or wherever.) The induction process was not as painful as it sounds and the first few days melted away all but two of the main apprehensions I had. The BIG ones still were ‘What am I actually supposed to do? And am I capable of doing it’?

The moment finally arrived when I travelled with Leonard from the Mondo office to meet my boss and homestay host Mr Mafie. We met at his office in Maji Ya Chai. (Usa River is the next town and can be found on Google Earth) I was received like a long lost brother which did not do anything to lessen my apprehension about living up to expectations! Over the first of many many sodas (any fizzy drink EXCEPT beer) Mr Mafie completely overwhelmed me with ‘development babble’ terms I was soon to become very familiar with: Capacity Building, Economic Development Group (EDG) Facilitate, Core Values. Etc.

Let me digress at this point. I mentioned earlier a mid life crisis. Perhaps two years ago I will admit to possibly pre-judging people a little too easily. (loud snorts from ex wife if she read this…luckily she wont) I have learnt not to do this these days, although I have to keep reminding myself! In my previous less enlightened Neanderthal incarnation I probably would have written off Mr Mafie and told him what I thought of him after the first hour of his very long and complicated explanation of the philosophy behind his NGO called Tan-Edaps. Luckily or in Mafie’s view due to Gods intervention I listened and patiently asked questions.


The Homestay

It was with a mixture of confusion, intrigue and apprehension that I headed off up the valley to the village of Ngyeku and Mr Mafie’s house. There was quite a bit of animated chatter in Kiswahili between the taxi driver and my fellow passengers. I do not know what they were saying but the appalling state of the unmade road may well have been of relevance. Cars rarely ventured up this way. I was soon to become intimately acquainted with every little bump of this road as I travelled up and down it on the back of Mr Mafie’s Honda 125 (Clare christened Mafie as Ted ...me being Ralph …for those of you who watch The Fast Show)

Chez Mafie was more civilised than I had imagined it would be. It would not have looked out of place in the Alps. It has views of Mount Meru and Killimanjaro. My bedroom had an en suite toilet!! This was effectively a ‘wet room’ that will one day have a working shower. There was a living / dining room and another couple of bedrooms. The ‘kitchen’ was in an outbuilding. I met Mama Mafie who has the wonderful christian name Happiness and her 2 daughters Neema aged 13 and Esther age 11. All three of these ladies worked extremely hard to look after me. I use the word ladies for the children out of respect. If it was not for their size and the very occasional fun and laughter they had with other children you would think they were adults. They helped their mother with farm work, house work and cooking. They cleaned my shoes and did my washing. **see comments later.

The house did not have mains electricity, we did have a simple solar power system that gave light in a couple of rooms for an hour or so in the evening. All cooking and water heating was done over wood fires contained in simple stoves in the kitchen. I soon began to look forward to my evening bucket of scalding hot water that I could dilute with cold to pour over myself using an old Blueband margarine tub. Luxury. We were on the end of the water supply pipe and so often it had all gone before it reached us! The Mafies had a couple of cows for milk. A calf was born when I was there. Half a dozen goats were led out to the fields each morning. Hens foraged about for food. They have a couple of acres for Maize, Sunflowers or Cowpeas. Often more than one crop in the same field. They had organic vegetable beds and on the hillsides Bananas…sweet and savoury, Mangoes, Cassava, Coffee, Papaya, Passion Fruit, Lemons and Oranges amongst trees growing for firewood. The land is fertile given enough water.

My Work

After breakfast of boiled egg with ndise (baked savoury bananas) chai (tea made with milk) and on good days chapatis we would roll Ted’s bike out of the house and set off down the valley. Restrained acknowledgements were shared with the many people walking, cycling or accompanying donkeys. More energetic waves were exchanged with children either on the road or in the adjacent fields. By the end of my stay I was on ‘waving terms’ with hundreds of people! After a brief sprint along the main Arusha to Moshi highway we would arrive in Maji Ya Chai and the Tan-Edaps office. Our neighbour would usually be in the yard either cooking or attending to her baby. She did not appear to have an indoor cooking area so I am not sure how she coped in the rainy season! The office had no glass in its windows and so various sounds would drift in on the breeze. Children at play, donkeys braying, African wrap or reggae from next door at BIG volumes or sometimes in late afternoon we got the sound of choir practice at the ultra flash, tinted glass, brand spanking new Lutheran Church around the corner. They were very good.

As I said earlier I was not at all sure about Mr Mafies NGO at the beginning. After a couple of weeks digesting the information I gleaned from him and visiting many people in all areas of the community I realised that Mr Mafie is a very good man with some very sound ideas. He has good links with the key ‘movers and shakers’ in Government, the Church, schools and farmers / business people in general. What he lacked was focus, business skills, contacts, a plan and possibly most importantly a realistic vision for the future capabilities of his NGO. Not much work for me to do then!

To cut 6 weeks of solid work short for the sake of keeping the reader awake I feel that I had achieved more than I would have ever thought possible. I had helped Mr Mafie to set realistic targets for Tan-Edaps, facilitated a new website, started a structured approach to capacity building, initiated a networking program and re-structured the organisation to allow Mafie to access opinions from key contacts more easily. I wrote clear summaries for his project proposals and re-wrote the Tan Edaps philosophy and mission documents so they could be understood more clearly. I decided that as I had started so many things moving I should remain in touch. I regard myself as an unofficial employee. I managed to get involved in many projects from trying to supply electricity to Ngyeku , using donkey power to collect rubbish, building an orphanage, expanding broiler chicken production, making soap, planning an infant daycare centre and visiting women with HIV to check how they were coping with microfinance loans. All in all a fantastic experience.


** Women of Tanzania

I would like to take this chance to comment on the inspirational women I met in Tanzania. I got to know Mama Mafie, Esther and Neema from my homestay. I guess they would be typical of women in a stable family group. They worked tirelessly and without any complaints that I was aware of. However I was told that myself and Mr Mafie were the Babas (Fathers) of the household. We were the ‘bread winners’. It was the women’s role to look after us. Mr Mafie and I ate our meals at the dining room table. The ladies ate separately in a bedroom. The women did all but the most physical of tasks on the farm. Work began at 5.30 and finished after I went to bed at 10pm or so. In all honesty I think that if they really knew how inefficient and unproductive most men are during the ‘hard day at the office’ they would feel very betrayed.

Most incredible were the single mums I met, many with HIV/AIDS. The sheer guts and determination of these women to raise their children with self generated resources is just fantastic. I think it is my time talking to these women that is my single most cherished memory from Tanzania. I am proud to still be in contact with three such ladies, and I am sure that any resources in terms of finance or knowledge I send them will be multiplied many times in benefit to their communities. I am afraid to say I am not quite so confident that the same can be said for many of the men.

Women of Tanzania. You have my respect.

Longido Primary School - Longido

Emily Reid October 2008 - March 2009

Yesterday it rained and rained and I think it is a measure of how long I have been here that I stood on the porch in wonder and excitement, welcoming the much needed downpour. And today at school some of the teachers say to me that I must feel at home in the cold (it was slightly misty and cloudy). I concur politely, although in reality firstly, it is not very cold and secondly, I feel very at home here already. Admittedly I felt apprehensive about returning to Longido for the start of the new academic year after a fantastic six week break spent travelling. But when Philippa and I got off in Longido (very much the worse for wear as a result of dusty and lengthy journey along a diversion from the main road as a result of road widening) someone ran up to me straight away to greet me with 'Teacher, teacher' and from then onwards, as we lumber back up the very sandy, dusty hill, children call ‘Philippa’ and 'Emile' (as they can't say my name very well) and run to hold my hand. Despite the fact that Philippa has gone home now, some children are still shouting Philippa, apparently thinking it must be a generic term for a mzungu.

Now, after a couple of weeks, it feels very good to be in Longido again: I was welcomed back to school with beaming smiles from the children, along with the inevitable shouts of ‘Emile’. The new standard four burst into song as I come into the classroom with one of the songs I taught them last year and grin so hard that it looks like their faces will break. It is good to see the teachers as well and very satisfying when one of the teachers says that she is learning so much from me about helping the children to enjoy the lessons and using pictures and props, rather than making them copy from the board. It may not sound like much, but in an educational system dominated by chalk and talk, I feel this is some achievement. With seventy to eighty children in a class it is still impossible to reach all the children and some of them are drowning silently at the back; generally it seems that as long as these stragglers sit quietly, they are left to flounder. This is a particular problem in Longido because it is a Masai village with a large number of the children attempting to learn English as a third language.. In an effort to help a bit I have set up an extra class to help some of the weaker students in standard four at lunch time and although I’m not sure how much learning is going on, those children are relishing the attention, which in a class of so many, they are routinely deprived of.

Thanks to donations from Phillipa’s and my friends and family, we raised enough money towards paint for the dormitories we painted before Christmas, that we also had enough money to replace some of the urine soaked, insect infected mattresses as well. The whole story of purchasing them was a bit of an adventure as we found that the price was cheaper in Namanga (on the Kenyan border) than in Arusha. So armed with the deputy head of the school, we set out last Wednesday to Namanga, which is only about half an hour away from Longido. It was only once there that we realized that the cheapest mattresses we had been told about were over the border in Kenya and that things were not quite as simple as we had anticipated. Any driver we asked said that we needed a document to say that we had paid the correct tax and that we had acquired them legally. Anyway the deputy head went off to speak to customs (for about two hours) while we waited. (As an aside, Philippa mentioned later how impressed she was that I, Emily the rude and impatient, waited so patiently for Mr Mangara to come back. I don’t think I have ever been the most patient person but in the light of this am hopeful that I can go back home a new, patient me.) So two hours later Mr Mangara came back with bad news: He said we were not able to take anything like the number of mattresses we wanted without letters from the district education officer to declare that the mattresses were for a school and various other things we didn't have. At this stage we were very depressed and felt that we had nothing to loose by going and speaking to the customs officials ourselves.

The next hour or two was spent in customs learning about the law on importing goods between Kenya and Tanzania. The official basically said that there was nothing he could do and that we would either have to pay a huge amount of tax or get a letter from the DEO, which would then have to be sent to Dar and could take up to three months. But, just as we had given up hope, he pulled some magnanimity out from somewhere and decided there was something he could do after all: He did declare the mattresses we were bringing in but reduced their value and quantity so that the tax we had to pay was much more reasonable. And so, finally, we crossed the border again with a dala-dala (small, battered mini bus) and purchased forty mattresses (we would only have been able to buy thirty in Arusha because they were so much more expensive). Hurray! Then came the most challenging part of the day, which was squeezing 40 mattresses into a dala-dala. Eventually we managed though and I journeyed back to Longido sandwiched securely in the midst of our new, brightly coloured mattresses but feeling on top of the world. This feeling was reinforced when we arrived at school with the mattresses to a swarm of children who eagerly carried them inside with a chorus of ‘thank you, thank you’. The combination of the paint and the new mattresses has utterly transformed those dormitories; they look like normal children's rooms now and the little people do seem very happy with them, not least, I hope, because they feel valued. On behalf of all those children I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who donated the money which enabled us to achieve this.

I have only two months left in Longido now and time has started to go a little too quickly; I feel like I’m on a treadmill but not in control of the speed and going much faster than I would like to. As you can probably tell, I’m very much looking forward to the rest of me time here; it’s been great.