Evelyn Risner May 2009
I came upon MondoChallenge while trawling the internet – there seemed to be thousands of ‘Gap Year’ organisations catering for 18-20 year olds but very few who risked ‘taking on’ an older age group. Since then I have wondered why – where I work, for example, at least 5 people have said they’d like to volunteer abroad for a shorter period and they are all over 45.
MondoChallenge was clearly not an organisation only interested in profit as many of the others appeared to be. MondoChallenge seemed to be smaller and more ‘personal’ – I spoke to MondoChallenge workers many times on the phone and they had the time to answer questions and explain procedures etc.
I had no real expectations of Tanzania before I came – I wanted to visit Africa and I did not want to be a tourist – to combine this with trying to do something useful (voluntary work) and live in a family seemed ideal. I’m sure I wasn’t prepared for the poverty of Tanzania and at first it was all a shock and quite overwhelming.
I started teaching English at a Remand Centre in the morning and a Vocational College in the afternoon. Numbers at the Remand Centre varied between 2-6, they were all boys. One boy was blind and had been brought there by the police because his father (his mother was dead) had left him at Arusha bus station. I was struck by how keen they were to learn English – two of them in particular really seemed to improve during my month there. One of these had wanted to go to Secondary School but his grandparents (his parents were dead) couldn’t afford the £75 it cost per year. Impossible not to compare this with the situation in the UK where education up to 18 is free but not valued by that minority who drop out or mess around for years and leave with nothing – sometimes unable to read or write properly.
In the afternoon I taught English to a group of students who were studying ‘hotel management’ – numbers varied between 4-7. These students were older and obviously not disadvantaged like those in the Remand Centre. They were very keen to practice conversational English and we also covered employability skills e.g. writing a CV and a covering letter and doing mock interviews and role plays. They became more confident speakers of English during the 4 weeks which was very important because they were all looking for jobs in hotels – receptionist, or chef, or porter or cashier. I had not realised the extent to which Arusha’s economy depended on the safari business and how the world recession was affecting tourist numbers, which, in turn meant a lack of money going into hotels, safari companies, national parks etc.
I stayed with a local family in Kijenge Juu – they were very hospitable and would not allow me to do any washing, cooking, cleaning, tidying up – which was fantastic – going home and having to do all these mundane chores again will be a real shock.
I quickly realised that the poverty and lack of opportunity in Tanzania causes people to view the West as somewhere where the streets are ‘paved with gold’. There is the assumption understandably that because you are from Europe or the US you have piles of money to spare and you are able to arrange opportunities for those who want to leave Tanzania to study or work.
I must confess there were times when I felt somewhat under pressure to come up with money or send back certain items from the UK. Why wasn’t I agreeing to sort out a student visa or loan money so that a business could be started up? It was never as blatant as this but occasionally I felt a bit ‘used’. However the open friendliness of everyone and their gentle courtesy helped me to ‘rise above’ these bouts of cynicism.
During the month I have been in Tanzania I have visited Manyara, Ngorongoro and Tarangire National Parks – Ngorongoro Crater, I thought was amazing. I realised I was scared of elephants – especially if they were standing facing you and flapping their ears. I also went to Longido and visited a Masai Boma – saw the ‘toothbrush’ tree and the plants that the Masai use to cure pneumonia and stomach problems. The poverty of the Masai Boma shocked me, although it was very interesting to learn about how they survive in the bush – especially when their sources of water have dried up along with the grazing for their cattle.
By the time I leave I will have been in Tanzania just over 4 weeks – in many ways it seems longer. I hope I have gained some insight into Tanzanian culture. I have certainly been able to observe ‘life on the streets’ which is fascinating (a lot more interesting than UK streets if slightly intimidating for the lone “mzungu” wandering around). I feel positive about my teaching experiences and hope others can build on the progress students have made at both the Remand Centre and the Eureka Institute.
I can’t finish without mentioning the support I have received from the MondoChallenge team in Arusha – Kate and Leonard. They were always ‘on call’ to answer any queries and happy to accompany me on what must have seemed like pathetic “missions” – i.e. when I couldn’t find my way to places that were just round the corner. I think without their reassuring support and the support of my homestay family I would have found Tanzania even more of a ‘MondoChallenge’ than I did.
Tanzanians have many lessons they can teach the West – even though, sadly, they seem to be convinced that they and their country have little to offer.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Msaranga Business Project - Moshi
Karen Hoeller March - June 2009
Today is my last day in Tanzania, I am leaving for Nairobi tomorrow morning from where I will catch a plane back to Europe. I have been living in Moshi for the past three months where I was working on two business projects. I helped a group of fifty local artists (painters and wood carvers) to increase their sales by trying to get more visitors to come to their shops, and provided assistance with some marketing and advertising (www.kiliweb.com/tingatinga). My friends from Germany and the UK donated 1,000,000 Tsh and with this generous contribution we were able to replace four bridges to the site, set up some signs, advertise in a local map, put flyers out in restaurants and hotels and invite local tour operators to take their clients there. Secondly, I assisted with the roll out of a so-called Small Business Grant Project in Msaranga (a suburb of Moshi) where 11 HIV+ women were selected and given a grant in form of goods (worth approx. £50 each). This was done with the support of my homestay mother Glory who is also a MondoChallenge Community Volunteer Co-ordinator and a local Community Volunteer. Since Msaranga is a rural area I found myself at a pig farm just before Easter buying 6 piglets for 3 of these ladies who were rather excited about the prospect of starting a pig breeding business. We also bought ducks, goats, a sewing machine and 2nd hand t-shirts.I very much enjoyed being so involved in these projects and get real hands-on experience. It was very insightful to get to know some Tanzanians, see how they live and get by on almost nothing yet still be so happy and positive. My last day of volunteering (1st June) was just amazing and made the whole experience even more special. On that day I had planned a handover meeting with my artists, the so-called ‘exit interview’ with Kate, our fantastic TZ Country Manager, and then had been invited once again by my business grant ladies for a final farewell (although I had already said good-bye the previous week).At the arts centre I presented my activity report, summarised what we had achieved together and then presented them with ‘my’ gift of 235,300 Tsh (£120) with which they can now buy some new wood carving tools and paint. This money was left over from the generous contributions and several wood finishers had mentioned that they could do a better job if they had the right tools. So I hope this is going to be useful to all of them. In return I received several small presents and a proper ‘Certificate of Appreciation’ which was really sweet and thoughtful. Glory is going to do some business training there in the next few weeks and then it waits to be seen what the artists are actually doing themselves to take the business forward. I sincerely hope they don’t disappoint me.When Glory and I arrived for the meeting with the ladies in the afternoon, I didn’t see any of them waiting outside but when we entered the room, they were already all there. It turned out later that they had arranged to meet for 2pm and anyone who knows about ‘African time’ will appreciate the thoughtfulness behind it because the ladies just wanted to make sure that everyone would be there by 3.30pm, the time I had been invited for. After a short prayer Vumilia, the tailor, got up and made a short speech on behalf of the group thanking MondoChallenge once again for the grants they had received and the business support along the way. The women are all very grateful that the money had been given directly to them in form of grants and that no other organisations or middlemen had been involved. Then they got out a present for me. Vumilia said that I (ie. MondoChallenge) had given the ones ‘living with hope’ (HIV) a shelter and that they – although they didn’t have much do give in return - would now shelter me. The women then started singing this beautiful African song while taking me into their middle dancing around me and slowly unwrapping the present. In it was a beautiful piece of batik material which they then wrapped around me. Giving a piece of fabric is a very symbolic gesture here in Africa, as it is used in many ways, eg. to protect the body from the sun or rain, carry a child in it tied on to the back and so on. I was so moved and overwhelmed by this kind, loving gesture and their appreciation, I just started crying. My God, it was one of the most beautiful things that has ever been done for me. For us £50 is an evening out having dinner and drinks in a restaurant, for all of these women it is a new start. They are all just so proud and thankful that they are now running their own little businesses and have the support from someone who believes in them. This gives them the chance to relax a little, to look after their children better, feed them properly, sometimes even pay the school fees and for the women themselves to stay relatively healthy for a long time.During my stay here I had many frustrating moments and have overall become a lot more critical of ‘third-world-help’ but in my opinion this programme provides the kind of help which seems useful. It is supported by local community volunteers and due to the continued support most businesses prosper and become sustainable over a long period of time. I therefore feel that my time here has not been in vain and that makes me very happy.
Today is my last day in Tanzania, I am leaving for Nairobi tomorrow morning from where I will catch a plane back to Europe. I have been living in Moshi for the past three months where I was working on two business projects. I helped a group of fifty local artists (painters and wood carvers) to increase their sales by trying to get more visitors to come to their shops, and provided assistance with some marketing and advertising (www.kiliweb.com/tingatinga). My friends from Germany and the UK donated 1,000,000 Tsh and with this generous contribution we were able to replace four bridges to the site, set up some signs, advertise in a local map, put flyers out in restaurants and hotels and invite local tour operators to take their clients there. Secondly, I assisted with the roll out of a so-called Small Business Grant Project in Msaranga (a suburb of Moshi) where 11 HIV+ women were selected and given a grant in form of goods (worth approx. £50 each). This was done with the support of my homestay mother Glory who is also a MondoChallenge Community Volunteer Co-ordinator and a local Community Volunteer. Since Msaranga is a rural area I found myself at a pig farm just before Easter buying 6 piglets for 3 of these ladies who were rather excited about the prospect of starting a pig breeding business. We also bought ducks, goats, a sewing machine and 2nd hand t-shirts.I very much enjoyed being so involved in these projects and get real hands-on experience. It was very insightful to get to know some Tanzanians, see how they live and get by on almost nothing yet still be so happy and positive. My last day of volunteering (1st June) was just amazing and made the whole experience even more special. On that day I had planned a handover meeting with my artists, the so-called ‘exit interview’ with Kate, our fantastic TZ Country Manager, and then had been invited once again by my business grant ladies for a final farewell (although I had already said good-bye the previous week).At the arts centre I presented my activity report, summarised what we had achieved together and then presented them with ‘my’ gift of 235,300 Tsh (£120) with which they can now buy some new wood carving tools and paint. This money was left over from the generous contributions and several wood finishers had mentioned that they could do a better job if they had the right tools. So I hope this is going to be useful to all of them. In return I received several small presents and a proper ‘Certificate of Appreciation’ which was really sweet and thoughtful. Glory is going to do some business training there in the next few weeks and then it waits to be seen what the artists are actually doing themselves to take the business forward. I sincerely hope they don’t disappoint me.When Glory and I arrived for the meeting with the ladies in the afternoon, I didn’t see any of them waiting outside but when we entered the room, they were already all there. It turned out later that they had arranged to meet for 2pm and anyone who knows about ‘African time’ will appreciate the thoughtfulness behind it because the ladies just wanted to make sure that everyone would be there by 3.30pm, the time I had been invited for. After a short prayer Vumilia, the tailor, got up and made a short speech on behalf of the group thanking MondoChallenge once again for the grants they had received and the business support along the way. The women are all very grateful that the money had been given directly to them in form of grants and that no other organisations or middlemen had been involved. Then they got out a present for me. Vumilia said that I (ie. MondoChallenge) had given the ones ‘living with hope’ (HIV) a shelter and that they – although they didn’t have much do give in return - would now shelter me. The women then started singing this beautiful African song while taking me into their middle dancing around me and slowly unwrapping the present. In it was a beautiful piece of batik material which they then wrapped around me. Giving a piece of fabric is a very symbolic gesture here in Africa, as it is used in many ways, eg. to protect the body from the sun or rain, carry a child in it tied on to the back and so on. I was so moved and overwhelmed by this kind, loving gesture and their appreciation, I just started crying. My God, it was one of the most beautiful things that has ever been done for me. For us £50 is an evening out having dinner and drinks in a restaurant, for all of these women it is a new start. They are all just so proud and thankful that they are now running their own little businesses and have the support from someone who believes in them. This gives them the chance to relax a little, to look after their children better, feed them properly, sometimes even pay the school fees and for the women themselves to stay relatively healthy for a long time.During my stay here I had many frustrating moments and have overall become a lot more critical of ‘third-world-help’ but in my opinion this programme provides the kind of help which seems useful. It is supported by local community volunteers and due to the continued support most businesses prosper and become sustainable over a long period of time. I therefore feel that my time here has not been in vain and that makes me very happy.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Usa River & Kikatiti Small Grants Project
Caroline Pallister March - May 2009
After almost 2.5months I am coming to the end of my time in Tanzania and, together with the local volunteers, I am buying the chickens, animal feed and goats for the last few of our grant recipients. I’ve been setting up a new Small Grants Project to assist people affected by HIV/AIDS and have been lucky enough to be able to take the project from start-up to final handover into the community. This has meant doing a feasibility study (assessing whether there is potential to start up new businesses in our target area and identifying whether there are people affected by HIV/AIDS to run them), doing family visits and interviews, followed by final selection of 9 successful applicants, business training (fortunately done by our one of our able Community Volunteer Co-ordinators as it is in Swahili), formal business launch with local community leaders and then buying goods to the value of the grant.
The photo shows our grant recipients together with the ward and village executive officers and the Tanzanian Country managers on launch day – an excellent turn-out and the grant recipients were delighted. Local hierarchy is very important here. Finally there is weekly follow-up to support the people running the new businesses. I’ll manage to fit in one of these follow-up visits before I leave, but it will be done on an on-going basis by the two local Community Volunteers who we have recruited as part of the project. They in turn will be looked after by a local Community Volunteer Co-ordinator employed by MondoChallenge. So as long as the funding for the Community Volunteers and Co-ordinators continues, the project is now almost totally sustainable locally (aside from the managerial support of our lovely and very excellent Tanzania Country Manager of course!). It’s great to think that we have contributed something that can now stand on its own two feet.
The whole experience of being in Tanzania has been great – from the extreme hospitability and generosity of my homestay family, to the crazy daladalas (minibuses) that eventually take me to work, to the dedication of the local people making time to work on the project even though they need to also fit in earning money to pay the school fees and maybe one day finish building the family home. To their patience and amusement when I have ‘English’ moments and demand that the taxi I have hired at great expense should indeed come with the petrol for which we have paid. And that it should turn up in less than 30mins from being ‘immediately available’. And to the amazing safari parks, walking country and the 5,000 year-old cave paintings in Kolo (definitely worth a visit if you get the chance). To the bustling markets and friendly haggling about the ‘special price’ that people might just try to charge you. And to the Masai families continuing to live in their traditional ways with multiple goats and wives. And to the difference that we hope to make to the families living in maybe one room with four children – and their happiness at the opportunity to make a better living for themselves.
The whole experience of being in Tanzania has been great – from the extreme hospitability and generosity of my homestay family, to the crazy daladalas (minibuses) that eventually take me to work, to the dedication of the local people making time to work on the project even though they need to also fit in earning money to pay the school fees and maybe one day finish building the family home. To their patience and amusement when I have ‘English’ moments and demand that the taxi I have hired at great expense should indeed come with the petrol for which we have paid. And that it should turn up in less than 30mins from being ‘immediately available’. And to the amazing safari parks, walking country and the 5,000 year-old cave paintings in Kolo (definitely worth a visit if you get the chance). To the bustling markets and friendly haggling about the ‘special price’ that people might just try to charge you. And to the Masai families continuing to live in their traditional ways with multiple goats and wives. And to the difference that we hope to make to the families living in maybe one room with four children – and their happiness at the opportunity to make a better living for themselves.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Longido Primary School - Longido
John White January - July 2009
The Maasai people, so visible in East African tourist literature, are ubiquitous in Longido. It is one of their strongholds. Their bright blue and red and purple cloaks bring a splash of colour to a parched hinterland of ashen scrub punctuated by green acacia trees, then turn spectral by dusk as they move around the sandy streets of the village. The men carry spear-like sticks; the women may have young children strapped to their backs; often too they carry buckets of water which, until recently, had been strictly rationed to two buckets per family per week.
We are supposed to be in the middle of the rainy season, or the ‘long rains’ as they call it here. Yet our anoraks and umbrellas lie unused in the bottom of our cases. Not much grows in Longido. Cattle have been taken to pastures further afield and the herdsmen have gone with them. Yet there is much activity: birds build nests; mongoose colonies keep watch on the termite mounds; donkeys bray and kick each other; and buffalo graze on the upper slopes of the mountain behind us. And the humans are also nesting. Just two weekends ago we attended a local wedding. It wasn’t quite as exotic as you might imagine: churches are the same everywhere, though in Tanzania with noisy brass bands and colourful wigs. But the cutting of the ‘cake’ was a new experience, the cake in question being a spit-roasted goat with the fur left intact on its head and a huge sprig in its mouth. Every day here brings a new adventure.
Most days, of course, we are in school, Longido primary School, an establishment with almost 900 pupils on roll. There are not enough teachers - there never are in Tanzania – but the class sizes are not as bad as some I’ve seen; and the children are a delight to teach. There is no electricity or running water (just as in Longido village more generally), but this isn’t an unusual problem in Tanzania. There are at least some text books, and you quickly learn to adapt: oral/aural approaches work well, as do display cards, pictures, anything to break the monotony of ‘chalk and talk’.
Teaching methods are definitely traditional. Given the conditions and the curriculum, that’s hard to get away from. But the staff are welcoming and receptive. Dee and I have both done some team teaching, while Dee has been giving English lessons to a female colleague. I’ve also been taught how to do Braille by a blind teaching colleague, one of three such in a school that has a small blind unit attached. By Tanzanian standards, it’s something of a beacon school. Oh, and I’ve yet to see any evidence of corporal punishment!
Life for many people in this district is harsh. The term ‘weight-watchers’ has a whole new meaning here. One weekend recently, working with members of an NGO that monitors health using WHO guidelines, we were shocked to find that all but 4 of the 60 young children measured (height and weight) were malnourished, 6 of them in the ‘critical’ category. Back home, some of these children would be in hospital. Here, the emphasis is on ensuring they attend and are fed in school. Knowing this sort of thing tempers any small gripes we might have about living conditions here. Transport is erratic, but most of the time we don’t need it; and the shops are not well stocked. But we have more than most people enjoy, including a stand-up (cold) shower and two and a half hours of electricity each evening provided by a generator. Accommodation is simple but adequate, and we would probably feel uncomfortable with better, if that makes sense.
This Longido placement is our third as volunteers and our second with the Mondo organization. As a married couple, Dee and I had half-expected that we might be left to our own devices, or have a quiet time. No chance!! Expect to be invited to the home or ‘boma’ of your new acquaintance. And to his or her church. Also weddings, obviously. Or you may even end up enjoying a cup of chai together, watching the rolling clouds that seem to go on forever. The previous Mondo volunteer in Longido talked of this place being the heart of Africa. It is a very big heart.
The Maasai people, so visible in East African tourist literature, are ubiquitous in Longido. It is one of their strongholds. Their bright blue and red and purple cloaks bring a splash of colour to a parched hinterland of ashen scrub punctuated by green acacia trees, then turn spectral by dusk as they move around the sandy streets of the village. The men carry spear-like sticks; the women may have young children strapped to their backs; often too they carry buckets of water which, until recently, had been strictly rationed to two buckets per family per week.
We are supposed to be in the middle of the rainy season, or the ‘long rains’ as they call it here. Yet our anoraks and umbrellas lie unused in the bottom of our cases. Not much grows in Longido. Cattle have been taken to pastures further afield and the herdsmen have gone with them. Yet there is much activity: birds build nests; mongoose colonies keep watch on the termite mounds; donkeys bray and kick each other; and buffalo graze on the upper slopes of the mountain behind us. And the humans are also nesting. Just two weekends ago we attended a local wedding. It wasn’t quite as exotic as you might imagine: churches are the same everywhere, though in Tanzania with noisy brass bands and colourful wigs. But the cutting of the ‘cake’ was a new experience, the cake in question being a spit-roasted goat with the fur left intact on its head and a huge sprig in its mouth. Every day here brings a new adventure.
Most days, of course, we are in school, Longido primary School, an establishment with almost 900 pupils on roll. There are not enough teachers - there never are in Tanzania – but the class sizes are not as bad as some I’ve seen; and the children are a delight to teach. There is no electricity or running water (just as in Longido village more generally), but this isn’t an unusual problem in Tanzania. There are at least some text books, and you quickly learn to adapt: oral/aural approaches work well, as do display cards, pictures, anything to break the monotony of ‘chalk and talk’.
Teaching methods are definitely traditional. Given the conditions and the curriculum, that’s hard to get away from. But the staff are welcoming and receptive. Dee and I have both done some team teaching, while Dee has been giving English lessons to a female colleague. I’ve also been taught how to do Braille by a blind teaching colleague, one of three such in a school that has a small blind unit attached. By Tanzanian standards, it’s something of a beacon school. Oh, and I’ve yet to see any evidence of corporal punishment!
Life for many people in this district is harsh. The term ‘weight-watchers’ has a whole new meaning here. One weekend recently, working with members of an NGO that monitors health using WHO guidelines, we were shocked to find that all but 4 of the 60 young children measured (height and weight) were malnourished, 6 of them in the ‘critical’ category. Back home, some of these children would be in hospital. Here, the emphasis is on ensuring they attend and are fed in school. Knowing this sort of thing tempers any small gripes we might have about living conditions here. Transport is erratic, but most of the time we don’t need it; and the shops are not well stocked. But we have more than most people enjoy, including a stand-up (cold) shower and two and a half hours of electricity each evening provided by a generator. Accommodation is simple but adequate, and we would probably feel uncomfortable with better, if that makes sense.
This Longido placement is our third as volunteers and our second with the Mondo organization. As a married couple, Dee and I had half-expected that we might be left to our own devices, or have a quiet time. No chance!! Expect to be invited to the home or ‘boma’ of your new acquaintance. And to his or her church. Also weddings, obviously. Or you may even end up enjoying a cup of chai together, watching the rolling clouds that seem to go on forever. The previous Mondo volunteer in Longido talked of this place being the heart of Africa. It is a very big heart.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Eureka Vocational Training Centre - Arusha
Leigh Carpenter January - April 2009
3-5 April 2009
Strangers in the Night
I went in on Friday prepared for my trip to visit Julius’s family at Lake Natron. I had weighed up the pros and cons of undertaking this trip but figured how many times am I’m going to get this opportunity. As long as the rains held of I figured everything would be fine. If the rains came I could be stuck there to July. And Julius promises me that the Somali bandits have been chased away.
It was overcast in the morning. I went with Julius early on to buy gifts for his family; three bags of sugar, some Maasai cloths and some sweets for the kids. We went back to the college and I started the English exam. I then rushed out again to buy some food and water. I also found a barber and had a fresh haircut. More expensive this time but competitively priced at £1. Back at college I took my computer lesson. Then I met Julius at 12.00 and we set of to the bus station.
We got a Dalla Dalla pretty quick and we soon travelling along the main road towards Longido. This was all familiar from my previous visit. The road was still bad but perhaps I did the road constructors a disservice last time. There seemed to be some progress on the road and some improved stretches. Still a long way of completion though. Two hours later we rolled into Longido. Julius confirmed we could travel from here and so we disembarked.
We would have to take a Landrover across country to the town of Gelai. There was two cars preparing to make the journey. They were already laden with goods. This being Tanzania they weren’t going to leave until there was enough customers. We had lunch while we waited. Having sussed out which one was going to leave first (the old, battered one in a bad state of repair (actually they both were!)) we loitered around with some other Maasai waiting for something to happen. Time ticked on. It was now nearing four. Suddenly, there was a flurry of activity as the Landrover was descended on by a group of school kids (Easter break) and this prompted a rush by people to get aboard. In seconds, about thirty people were crammed in the back of the Landrover. Only then did Julius suggest we board. I looked at the situation. I had been warned that they get notoriously crowded but never imagined this much.. I reprimanded Julius for waiting so long before deciding to board. He told me the driver had promised me a place in the cab but then rescinded on it in favour of two Maasai Elders. I performed a risk assessment. It didn’t score highly. After much discussion and soul searching, I wedged my self in the back, while my bag was strapped to the bonnet. We then set off.
So here I am uncomfortably stuck in the back of a Landrover crossing Africa. I am not exaggerating when I said there was thirty on the back. I counted them. There’s also another two hanging on the back and two sitting on the bonnet. These later turned out to be the drivers essential ‘outriders’ as would become apparent. My mind kept jumping from ‘this is fantastic’ to ‘this is stupidity’ to ‘this is madness’. We pass the sign that says 125km to Lake Natron and hit the dirt road. We begin to get thrown around and the dust starts kicking up. We are moving between 10 and 20 miles an hour. This is going to be a long journey!
As the point of no return passes, I try to relax and enjoy it. You wanted an unique African adventure and this one is definitely no tourist trip. As Mount Longido very slowly moves into the distance we see some ostrich and giraffe roam that makes for a pleasant distraction. After a while a few of the Maasai start singing around me. We trundle, rock and roll on. I jostle myself into a position where I can perch on the roll bar so am no longer standing and where I am wedged in protective cushion of Maasai. I tentatively begin to enjoy the experience.
After three hours of this, the sun starts to set. We see the ‘Mountain of God’ in the far distance (the only active volcano in Tanzania) and there is the most spectacular red sunset. The driver has to stop at every steep incline as we are overweight. Sometimes people have to get off to lighten the load. The outriders job is to wedge rocks under the wheels every time we stall to stop us rolling backwards. When this happens we have to wait a while for the engine to cool. Before the light fails the driver collects everyone’s fare and then suddenly its dark. I suddenly realise how much more dangerous this has got. The road is getting worse and we are driving in the dark. I have also become pushed to the side and am exposed on the edge. The Landrover lisps through one section. I realise that if this went over now I would properly die. My life is in the skill of the driver.
Eventually, I relax again and enjoy the spectacular starry sky and the resumed Maasai singing. Eventually after about four hours we roll into town. Only this is Kitumbeine about halfway! Julius says the road gets bad after here. After a toilet break we find that a group of women with babies had boarded and taken their place on the floor of the Landrover. Great, more passengers. We all squeeze back on. I find a position close to the front this time so I’m almost sitting on the cab. On we go.
The road does get worse. I’m resigned to the fact we will get there when we get there. The pattern is set. We stall a number of times. The engine is overheats. Then, oh joy, we have a puncture. We all have to get off while the wheel is changed. We bounce on through the night. The singing starts again, a mixture of tribal chanting and gentler hymn like songs lead by the school girls. This is my soundtrack as I ponder the night sky. Julius keeps promising me its just round the next hill. A giraffe jumps out in front of the Landrover at one point. Other giraffes lurk in the vegetation. Its funny how a dark Giraffe silhouette at a certain angle looks like a T Rex (or maybe I’m tied and hallucinating)
At 1pm we roll into the deserted town of Gelai. Nine hours on an overloaded Landrover! Julius had promised me a four hour journey. Given his power of time and distance estimation I had assumed six. But nine! I could have flown home in that time!
We find the guest house and I hit the sack. We need to be up at 6am so we can get to Julius’s Camp, and still have time to start the return journey.
So early Saturday, I am up for a quick cold wash. I shake the dust from my shirt and put it back on. We start a ninety minute cross country trek to Julius’s home.
In the daylight this is a spectacularly beautiful remote location. Lake Natron itself is hidden by a hill. But we are in the shadow of Oldoinyo Lengai volcano, the aforementioned ‘Mountain of God’. The view is rimmed by other mountains of he edge of Great Rift Valley and a plain stretches out below. The weather is hot even this early and the terrain is hilly. We eventually come in sight of the first group of family Bomas. This is where Julius’s uncle has set up a secondary camp for him and his wives as the original site became too crowded. As Julius’s father died when he was young, his uncle is considered his farther. We are soon surrounded by many Maasais coming to greet Julius. The small children walk up close to me one at a time head bowed and wait. It is a show of respect. I am expected to touch the head of each one. I feel like the pope giving a blessing. I then have to go round everyone giving them sweets. It feels a weird handing out sweets to a line of adults with open hands but it seems to be expected. After a quick greeting with his Uncle we head the short distance to the main camp. Here we go through the same greeting and sweet ritual. I meet Julius’s Mum and I hand over the gifts I had brought.
Julius shows me around. Essentially the camp is a circular corral where the goats are kept at night. Outside this there is a circle of individual round Bomas. The Bomas are thatched huts made from dried dung. Around this there is a fence of prickly vegetation to keep predators out. I am shown inside two Bomas. The first is his mothers. Its dark, dirty, cramped and smoky. It has two sleeping areas lined in animal skins off a central cooking area. There is also separate compartments where goats can be kept. Julius tells me that bomas are a popular cool hide out for poisonous snakes in the heat of the day. Great! Lets leave now. He shows me his brothers boma. This is a little more organised and roomy. The husband and wife have separate sleeping areas. The man is not allowed in the woman’s area, but the husband can summon his wife to his at anytime.
They are going to sacrifice a goat. Not for me but to celebrate a recent birth. I’m asked if I want to eat some meat. I have to decline. What sort of man doesn’t eat meat? I’m asked through Julius. He explains about health issues and luckily this warrior doesn’t eat meat in Arusha for similar reasons. I was (strangely) interested in seeing the goat killed for the experience but it was already being dissected by the time we reach the clearing. Nothing goes to waste. One warrior was already supping up a nice warm mug of fresh goats blood (which is a mainstay of their diet).
I’m given a mug of hot tea (as the kettle boils smoke slowly seeps through the thatched roof) and some of the ladies give me necklaces as gifts. This has been a fascinating experience and I’m privileged in being here. It’s a shame we can’t stay longer. But we need to go. After two hours we walk back to town in the midday sun, with a short detour to the patch of ground where Julius’s father is buried.
Gelai is now a bustling market town on market day, unrecognisable from the early morning. We rest in town. Julius finds me a room while he investigates transport. I sit and watch life go by outside a bit. I’m a bit of a sideshow here. I’m stared at by everybody. I’m harassed by drunks for money and children and women start offering their jewellery for a ‘good price’. Eventually I retreat to the room and doze in the heat. When I wake Julius tells me he has found two cars. The first one, the Landrover from yesterday will set off at 2pm. Another will leave at 4pm. Given that 2 and 4 probably means at least 4 and 6, I persuade Julius that we ought to get on the first one even if its not his first choice.
I have been promised a cab seat again. This time I stand out the door for an hour to make sure. A group of small children become amused by me. One offers me a biscuit. I amuse my self by teaching them to say please and thank you in exchange for chocolate cookies. True to form its four before we are away. The car pulls away for fifty yards and then stops again for twenty minutes. Just a ruse to try and get more passengers. I got my cab seat and am squashed in next to an elder. The truck only has six in the back this time, but much more cargo. So eventually off we go again. We make good time to Kitumbeine. Day light certainly helps on bad roads (its easy to see how these roads become impassable in the rains). The passenger door where I sit keeps flying open, but hey I’m past caring. We have a puncture as we arrive and as its fixed, I watch one of the outriders lash up the broken back suspension.
The evening is really nice and I contemplate taking a stint in the back for the final thrill of it. I decide I’ve had enough thrills. As darkness falls other things start to give. Something goes bang around the back axis that delays us for a while why they hit it with a hammer. We break down, stall and overheat a few times more. The door still randomly fly’s open. Still, unbelievably we have still made better time and we come out on the main road about 10pm. However it has been decided that rather than stop in Longido we would be dropped of in Namanga another 30km up the road the wrong way from Arusha (the driver had a delivery to make, passenger wishes come second).
Namanga is the town at the border with Kenya. It should be easier to get transport to Arusha here than in Longido. Only its late and I don’t want to travel back tonight. Two of our Massai travellers say they know a cheap guest house. So me, Julius and the two of them make our way to a rather dodgy looking place. The receptionist says they cant guarantee a muzungus safety as they have been broken into before by locals. The Maasai says we should share two rooms and sleep head to toe for security. They will protect me. I inspect the rooms and contemplate the situation. There’s not much choice really and I’m dead tied. And besides I reason that with three Maasai warriors protecting me, I should be pretty safe.
I sleep well. We wake early and I bucket shower. The Maasai have found a Dalla Dalla back to Arusha. Me and Julius are soon aboard. We set off about 7am and start thinking about a hot shower and a change of clothes. But then suddenly the bus swings into the immigration section of the border compound. A woman immigration official comes to the window and starts demanding papers. Of course I’m not carrying my Passport as I had no intention of leaving Tanzania plus I was not expecting to end up here. She informs me that all cars from Namanga have to go through immigration and as I’m clearly not from Tanzania I might be entering the country illegally. She seems unmoved by my argument that I have never left the country. After a standoff period she insists that I get out the bus and remain at immigration. Accompanied by Julius we are escorted to the office to make statements. I am told we must wait until the Officer in Charge reports for duty at 8am who will make a decision. And so this Sunday morning I find my self held as a potential illegal immigrant.
At about 8.30 the Officer in Charge arrives. Eventually we are brought before him. After questioning Julius and dismissing him, he plays the game of ‘ I’m a important man in charge’ with me. In silence he checks his mobile phones, arranges his papers and pens, checks his phones again, contemplates something, reads his notes, checks his phone again. He asks me a couple of questions. I reply. He then goes through his routines again. I just patiently wait. The charade goes on for some minutes until he eventually permits me to go on my way.
We find a new car for Arusha. Of course it must swing through immigration. Of course this cars occupants are completely ignored by immigration officers this time. The office is busier now with real arrivals. I got an overzealous official at a quiet time in the morning.
So eventually I reach Arusha at about midday after an epic eventful journey. I feast on chips and coffee, part with Julius and head home for that shower. I feel though I’ve experienced many sides of Africa this weekend. I have put my life fully in the care of others. I’ve had no control in my fate. I’ve relied on the friendship and hospitality of strangers. They came through for me.
3-5 April 2009
Strangers in the Night
I went in on Friday prepared for my trip to visit Julius’s family at Lake Natron. I had weighed up the pros and cons of undertaking this trip but figured how many times am I’m going to get this opportunity. As long as the rains held of I figured everything would be fine. If the rains came I could be stuck there to July. And Julius promises me that the Somali bandits have been chased away.
It was overcast in the morning. I went with Julius early on to buy gifts for his family; three bags of sugar, some Maasai cloths and some sweets for the kids. We went back to the college and I started the English exam. I then rushed out again to buy some food and water. I also found a barber and had a fresh haircut. More expensive this time but competitively priced at £1. Back at college I took my computer lesson. Then I met Julius at 12.00 and we set of to the bus station.
We got a Dalla Dalla pretty quick and we soon travelling along the main road towards Longido. This was all familiar from my previous visit. The road was still bad but perhaps I did the road constructors a disservice last time. There seemed to be some progress on the road and some improved stretches. Still a long way of completion though. Two hours later we rolled into Longido. Julius confirmed we could travel from here and so we disembarked.
We would have to take a Landrover across country to the town of Gelai. There was two cars preparing to make the journey. They were already laden with goods. This being Tanzania they weren’t going to leave until there was enough customers. We had lunch while we waited. Having sussed out which one was going to leave first (the old, battered one in a bad state of repair (actually they both were!)) we loitered around with some other Maasai waiting for something to happen. Time ticked on. It was now nearing four. Suddenly, there was a flurry of activity as the Landrover was descended on by a group of school kids (Easter break) and this prompted a rush by people to get aboard. In seconds, about thirty people were crammed in the back of the Landrover. Only then did Julius suggest we board. I looked at the situation. I had been warned that they get notoriously crowded but never imagined this much.. I reprimanded Julius for waiting so long before deciding to board. He told me the driver had promised me a place in the cab but then rescinded on it in favour of two Maasai Elders. I performed a risk assessment. It didn’t score highly. After much discussion and soul searching, I wedged my self in the back, while my bag was strapped to the bonnet. We then set off.
So here I am uncomfortably stuck in the back of a Landrover crossing Africa. I am not exaggerating when I said there was thirty on the back. I counted them. There’s also another two hanging on the back and two sitting on the bonnet. These later turned out to be the drivers essential ‘outriders’ as would become apparent. My mind kept jumping from ‘this is fantastic’ to ‘this is stupidity’ to ‘this is madness’. We pass the sign that says 125km to Lake Natron and hit the dirt road. We begin to get thrown around and the dust starts kicking up. We are moving between 10 and 20 miles an hour. This is going to be a long journey!
As the point of no return passes, I try to relax and enjoy it. You wanted an unique African adventure and this one is definitely no tourist trip. As Mount Longido very slowly moves into the distance we see some ostrich and giraffe roam that makes for a pleasant distraction. After a while a few of the Maasai start singing around me. We trundle, rock and roll on. I jostle myself into a position where I can perch on the roll bar so am no longer standing and where I am wedged in protective cushion of Maasai. I tentatively begin to enjoy the experience.
After three hours of this, the sun starts to set. We see the ‘Mountain of God’ in the far distance (the only active volcano in Tanzania) and there is the most spectacular red sunset. The driver has to stop at every steep incline as we are overweight. Sometimes people have to get off to lighten the load. The outriders job is to wedge rocks under the wheels every time we stall to stop us rolling backwards. When this happens we have to wait a while for the engine to cool. Before the light fails the driver collects everyone’s fare and then suddenly its dark. I suddenly realise how much more dangerous this has got. The road is getting worse and we are driving in the dark. I have also become pushed to the side and am exposed on the edge. The Landrover lisps through one section. I realise that if this went over now I would properly die. My life is in the skill of the driver.
Eventually, I relax again and enjoy the spectacular starry sky and the resumed Maasai singing. Eventually after about four hours we roll into town. Only this is Kitumbeine about halfway! Julius says the road gets bad after here. After a toilet break we find that a group of women with babies had boarded and taken their place on the floor of the Landrover. Great, more passengers. We all squeeze back on. I find a position close to the front this time so I’m almost sitting on the cab. On we go.
The road does get worse. I’m resigned to the fact we will get there when we get there. The pattern is set. We stall a number of times. The engine is overheats. Then, oh joy, we have a puncture. We all have to get off while the wheel is changed. We bounce on through the night. The singing starts again, a mixture of tribal chanting and gentler hymn like songs lead by the school girls. This is my soundtrack as I ponder the night sky. Julius keeps promising me its just round the next hill. A giraffe jumps out in front of the Landrover at one point. Other giraffes lurk in the vegetation. Its funny how a dark Giraffe silhouette at a certain angle looks like a T Rex (or maybe I’m tied and hallucinating)
At 1pm we roll into the deserted town of Gelai. Nine hours on an overloaded Landrover! Julius had promised me a four hour journey. Given his power of time and distance estimation I had assumed six. But nine! I could have flown home in that time!
We find the guest house and I hit the sack. We need to be up at 6am so we can get to Julius’s Camp, and still have time to start the return journey.
So early Saturday, I am up for a quick cold wash. I shake the dust from my shirt and put it back on. We start a ninety minute cross country trek to Julius’s home.
In the daylight this is a spectacularly beautiful remote location. Lake Natron itself is hidden by a hill. But we are in the shadow of Oldoinyo Lengai volcano, the aforementioned ‘Mountain of God’. The view is rimmed by other mountains of he edge of Great Rift Valley and a plain stretches out below. The weather is hot even this early and the terrain is hilly. We eventually come in sight of the first group of family Bomas. This is where Julius’s uncle has set up a secondary camp for him and his wives as the original site became too crowded. As Julius’s father died when he was young, his uncle is considered his farther. We are soon surrounded by many Maasais coming to greet Julius. The small children walk up close to me one at a time head bowed and wait. It is a show of respect. I am expected to touch the head of each one. I feel like the pope giving a blessing. I then have to go round everyone giving them sweets. It feels a weird handing out sweets to a line of adults with open hands but it seems to be expected. After a quick greeting with his Uncle we head the short distance to the main camp. Here we go through the same greeting and sweet ritual. I meet Julius’s Mum and I hand over the gifts I had brought.
Julius shows me around. Essentially the camp is a circular corral where the goats are kept at night. Outside this there is a circle of individual round Bomas. The Bomas are thatched huts made from dried dung. Around this there is a fence of prickly vegetation to keep predators out. I am shown inside two Bomas. The first is his mothers. Its dark, dirty, cramped and smoky. It has two sleeping areas lined in animal skins off a central cooking area. There is also separate compartments where goats can be kept. Julius tells me that bomas are a popular cool hide out for poisonous snakes in the heat of the day. Great! Lets leave now. He shows me his brothers boma. This is a little more organised and roomy. The husband and wife have separate sleeping areas. The man is not allowed in the woman’s area, but the husband can summon his wife to his at anytime.
They are going to sacrifice a goat. Not for me but to celebrate a recent birth. I’m asked if I want to eat some meat. I have to decline. What sort of man doesn’t eat meat? I’m asked through Julius. He explains about health issues and luckily this warrior doesn’t eat meat in Arusha for similar reasons. I was (strangely) interested in seeing the goat killed for the experience but it was already being dissected by the time we reach the clearing. Nothing goes to waste. One warrior was already supping up a nice warm mug of fresh goats blood (which is a mainstay of their diet).
I’m given a mug of hot tea (as the kettle boils smoke slowly seeps through the thatched roof) and some of the ladies give me necklaces as gifts. This has been a fascinating experience and I’m privileged in being here. It’s a shame we can’t stay longer. But we need to go. After two hours we walk back to town in the midday sun, with a short detour to the patch of ground where Julius’s father is buried.
Gelai is now a bustling market town on market day, unrecognisable from the early morning. We rest in town. Julius finds me a room while he investigates transport. I sit and watch life go by outside a bit. I’m a bit of a sideshow here. I’m stared at by everybody. I’m harassed by drunks for money and children and women start offering their jewellery for a ‘good price’. Eventually I retreat to the room and doze in the heat. When I wake Julius tells me he has found two cars. The first one, the Landrover from yesterday will set off at 2pm. Another will leave at 4pm. Given that 2 and 4 probably means at least 4 and 6, I persuade Julius that we ought to get on the first one even if its not his first choice.
I have been promised a cab seat again. This time I stand out the door for an hour to make sure. A group of small children become amused by me. One offers me a biscuit. I amuse my self by teaching them to say please and thank you in exchange for chocolate cookies. True to form its four before we are away. The car pulls away for fifty yards and then stops again for twenty minutes. Just a ruse to try and get more passengers. I got my cab seat and am squashed in next to an elder. The truck only has six in the back this time, but much more cargo. So eventually off we go again. We make good time to Kitumbeine. Day light certainly helps on bad roads (its easy to see how these roads become impassable in the rains). The passenger door where I sit keeps flying open, but hey I’m past caring. We have a puncture as we arrive and as its fixed, I watch one of the outriders lash up the broken back suspension.
The evening is really nice and I contemplate taking a stint in the back for the final thrill of it. I decide I’ve had enough thrills. As darkness falls other things start to give. Something goes bang around the back axis that delays us for a while why they hit it with a hammer. We break down, stall and overheat a few times more. The door still randomly fly’s open. Still, unbelievably we have still made better time and we come out on the main road about 10pm. However it has been decided that rather than stop in Longido we would be dropped of in Namanga another 30km up the road the wrong way from Arusha (the driver had a delivery to make, passenger wishes come second).
Namanga is the town at the border with Kenya. It should be easier to get transport to Arusha here than in Longido. Only its late and I don’t want to travel back tonight. Two of our Massai travellers say they know a cheap guest house. So me, Julius and the two of them make our way to a rather dodgy looking place. The receptionist says they cant guarantee a muzungus safety as they have been broken into before by locals. The Maasai says we should share two rooms and sleep head to toe for security. They will protect me. I inspect the rooms and contemplate the situation. There’s not much choice really and I’m dead tied. And besides I reason that with three Maasai warriors protecting me, I should be pretty safe.
I sleep well. We wake early and I bucket shower. The Maasai have found a Dalla Dalla back to Arusha. Me and Julius are soon aboard. We set off about 7am and start thinking about a hot shower and a change of clothes. But then suddenly the bus swings into the immigration section of the border compound. A woman immigration official comes to the window and starts demanding papers. Of course I’m not carrying my Passport as I had no intention of leaving Tanzania plus I was not expecting to end up here. She informs me that all cars from Namanga have to go through immigration and as I’m clearly not from Tanzania I might be entering the country illegally. She seems unmoved by my argument that I have never left the country. After a standoff period she insists that I get out the bus and remain at immigration. Accompanied by Julius we are escorted to the office to make statements. I am told we must wait until the Officer in Charge reports for duty at 8am who will make a decision. And so this Sunday morning I find my self held as a potential illegal immigrant.
At about 8.30 the Officer in Charge arrives. Eventually we are brought before him. After questioning Julius and dismissing him, he plays the game of ‘ I’m a important man in charge’ with me. In silence he checks his mobile phones, arranges his papers and pens, checks his phones again, contemplates something, reads his notes, checks his phone again. He asks me a couple of questions. I reply. He then goes through his routines again. I just patiently wait. The charade goes on for some minutes until he eventually permits me to go on my way.
We find a new car for Arusha. Of course it must swing through immigration. Of course this cars occupants are completely ignored by immigration officers this time. The office is busier now with real arrivals. I got an overzealous official at a quiet time in the morning.
So eventually I reach Arusha at about midday after an epic eventful journey. I feast on chips and coffee, part with Julius and head home for that shower. I feel though I’ve experienced many sides of Africa this weekend. I have put my life fully in the care of others. I’ve had no control in my fate. I’ve relied on the friendship and hospitality of strangers. They came through for me.
Monday, March 30, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, March 9, 2009
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.
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.
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