Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas everyone! Just wanted to apologize for the lack of updates this month and let you know that it is because I have been travelling through Zambia for the last couple of weeks. It is very beautiful here with much to do and see. The internet access is a bit dodgy so I will write a full post about my holiday time here once I get back to Tanzania. Thanks for your understanding!

Huruma Kids

I mentioned in a previous post that I was spending some of my free time volunteering at an orphanage called Huruma (literally "Compassion") Center. Huruma has been a joy for me to spend time at, especially in times when it feels as though my own work is stalled in the proverbial red tape. The center has about 40 children, the majority of whom have been orphaned by AIDS. This is but an infinitesimally small glimpse into the yawning generational chasm that has been created in Africa because of AIDS. A conservative estimate puts the number of children orphaned by the pandemic at over 10 million. I am not particularly fond of throwing out staggering statistics because it is really beyond our capacity to accurately comprehend the scale of these numbers. Sometimes I do a mental exercise because it is the only way I can really get my head around such figures – first, think of the largest sports stadium you have been in – for me it would be BC Place, which holds around 25 thousand people. Then picture the stadium filled to the brim with small children under the age of 14. Now multiply the stadium vision by 400. Try and grasp the ridiculously huge number of people this represents.

These kids have gone through some of the most excruciatingly painful experiences possible. Death by AIDS is often a drawn out and painful affair – it is long, agonizing and filled with indignity. These children have stood in the shadows of their homes and watched their parents die, knowing there is nothing more they can do to help their suffering guardian but search for an aspirin to ease the pain of some opportunistic infection. There are thousands and thousands of child-headed households across Africa where the oldest sibling, sometimes as young as 8, has essentially taken over the role of mother, being responsible to find food, shelter, water and school fees for his or (more often) her younger siblings. There is no global or even national comprehensive plan for what to do with these orphans. The current policies are a grab-bag of frantic interventions where individual organizations try desperately to cope with the numbers, but rarely have the capacity or the resources.

Before I depress you too much, I just want to embark on one point which has caught my attention specifically over the past couple of weeks. Even if the UN miraculously provided a fool-proof global plan to meet the physical needs of all the orphans in Africa (which isn’t even remotely close to happening), what of the emotional damage that these kids have undergone. In the West we know that children need to have adult love, affection and discipline in order to grow up as healthy individuals. Some term the therapeutic response to emotional distress “psycho-social support”; the problem is, in Africa, it doesn’t exist. From what I have seen, most orphanages have, at the best, one adult worker for every 20 children. More often, the ratio is more like 1:50 or 1:100. There is no way that a child can get the proper care with these numbers. Many of the children have not been shown affection by an adult for as long as they have been without parents. Even if there were more workers, the individual trauma of loss is so intense that you would need hours upon hours to plumb the psychic depths of the child and repair the emotional disarray.

Apart from my long digression, I do have a story to tell that relates to all of this. This past weekend I was invited to help take the children of Huruma for a camping trip at Riverside Campsite near Iringa. This is a big treat for the kids as they only get to go on such trips once a year. We left on Saturday afternoon after a delicious lunch of rice and beans - one of the staples here, and luckily one of my favorite Tanzanian dishes. To accompany the 40 kids we had Sophia, a German, Lilly, a Tanzanian, and I. Also a couple of the “kids” are actually quite old, up to 18, and tend to act more as caregivers than children. So we were off in our big bus, and arrived at Riverside to a sky that was only threatening rain. Riverside, as you can imagine, is a picturesque campsite set next to the little Ruaha river, which flows from the southern highlands of the country out to the Indian ocean. There are bandas and tents, and the main service of the site is as a Swahili school for wazungu (if you haven’t yet figured out what wazungu are, you need to read this blog more). It is owned by an English family that has lived in Iringa for over 20 years.

Up on a rock overlooking the river with some of the guys.

The children really wanted to go swimming so the first thing we did, even though it was quite chilly out, was headed down to the river and had a splash. I say a splash because the river isn’t very deep at this point, maybe up to about waist height of an adult. The kids loved it, and it was great to see them so happy. After this, we organized a treasure hunt for them, where they had to break into teams and find clues that lead to a “treasure” of candy and cookies. The whole scene was fairly chaotic, and when they discovered the bounty, the reaction was as though they had won the lottery, the Nobel Prize and the World Cup, all in the same moment. I have never seen that many kids so excited over something so small. They indeed have something to teach the children of the West. After the hunt, we broke into various games and basically let them do as they wished; there was football, volleyball, dodge ball, tag, dancing, and I am sure many other activities that I don’t understand or know the names of.

Her name is Ry, and she followed me around all weekend, such a gorgeous smile.

Soon the sun was creeping below the horizon, allowing the gorgeous tones of red, pink and orange that characterize the African sunsets to cascade across the clouded sky. We gathered around the campfire, and it wasn’t long before the drumming and singing was bellowing out of these 40 children in a way that would put any Canadian campfire sing-along to shame. On that note, let me digress to the fact that Africans have the most incredible singing voices, and they really make our best vocalists pale in comparison. The endless strength, prefect tone and amazing harmony combine to envelope your senses with sound - it is difficult not to become mesmerized by the beauty of the song. As night drew in, the songs continued, and the children grew closer to the flickering light of the fire. This is when I noticed how much these kids desire affection from an adult. At any point in the night I had a small child on my lap, gradually falling into slumber, one child stroking my hair and/or face, and both hands and arms in the grasp of little fingers. On two occasions I had small girls fall asleep in my lap and be carried off in the arms of an older child. You can also tell by the way that the kids look at you that they are in dire need of loving care, with their charcoal black skin and distinctively African features punctuated by two wide white eyes that seem to penetrate your being with their cry for affection. This night was one of the most powerful experiences I have had in my life, and it is good that I am not in the stage of life where the capacity to adopt a child exists, as I was seriously entertaining the thought with each one who touched my heart.

Around the fire before dark.

In the morning, we had tea and mandazi (Tanzanian doughnuts – so good) for breakfast, and the kids went for another swim in the river. After the swim we went on a hike out to some magnificent waterfalls created by huge boulders that you can walk out onto and surrounded with lush vegetation. Really picture perfect. This took most of the morning up and the bus arrived shortly after we returned to camp. We headed back to town and bid farewell to the children. As I slept in a tent with some of the boys the night before, I didn’t get much sleep – they go to bed late and wake up very early (the elbows poking into my back didn’t help either) but I knew I could make up for it when I got back home with a nice afternoon nap. We were all pretty exhausted but found the energy to go out for lunch for some chips mayai (basically a french fry omelette – yum) and sodas at “Family Investment Pub” – you have to love some of the names of businesses here. After a short walk home I hit the pillow hard and smiled at the thought of a great weekend.

Left: Some of the scenery on our walk; Right: Some of the kids scrambling on the rocks.

I feel privileged to have the opportunity to gain some insight into the problem of orphans in Africa, but I acknowledge that I far from understand the issue fully, as every child can tell a different story that will bring new facets to light that shatter our beliefs about the nature of the pandemic. Also, from talking to the full time volunteer at the center, Sophia, I realize that it is very trendy now for people to take some time out of their lives and come to Africa to work with orphaned children. While on the surface this seems to be a very noble effort, in the big picture sometimes such volunteers can do more to harm then to help. First of all, the shorter a time the person spends, the worse the effect. Many times people come to Huruma to see the kids, and the center. They come with their shiny new vehicles, nice clothes and expensive cameras. They tour through the center and want to photograph the children, look in their rooms, and examine their school work, among other things. Sophia tells me that the kids begin to feel as though they are some kind of zoo exhibit – come and see the poor orphan children of Africa. This doesn’t help them overcome their embarrassment of living in an orphanage that they already deal with everyday at school and in the community.

Even when people who come with big hearts for a few weeks or months, it is difficult to measure the pros against the cons. The kids gain valuable care and attention from an adult, and will maybe even share a bond with that person. That is, until the person gets on the plane to go home and move on with life in the West. Then the children are exposed to yet another abandonment that they cannot control. Over time they begin to associate affection and care with heartbreak and disappointment. Once this happens a few times they are no longer able to connect with anyone for fear of being perpetually hurt. I cannot criticize too much because of course I am one of these people. I truly do believe that the care they receive, even if for a short time, is beneficial in the long term, but I am biased because it is rewarding to work with these kids, so of course I will try and justify it. I have to say that my ideas of development and aid work are going through a monumental transformation and evolution as I look around and see the difference between what works in theory, and what works in practice. In the long term we in the West need to pressure our governments and corporations to share a portion of our exorbitant wealth with those in the developing world. We need to empower nationals to take leadership on the social issues that affect the Global South, and they, in turn, need to empower local communities to confront these problems head on. It is possible. We have all the resources. Now we only need action.

For more information on what you can do please visit:

http://www.stephenlewisfoundation.org/whatyoucando.htm

Canada-Tanzania Relations

What are the chances that the Prime Minister of Canada would come to Tanzania for the first time in nearly 30 years while I am living here? It happened this week...

Controversy over mining overshadows health initiative

PM announces $105-million contribution, but Barrick is top concern of Tanzanians

ALAN FREEMAN

From Tuesday's Globe and Mail
November 27, 2007 at 4:44 AM EST

DAR ES SALAAM, TANZANIA — The goal was to leave the image of a benevolent Canada investing in the health of poor Africans, but in the end it was another Canada, that of its globe-hopping mining companies, that stole the day.

Prime Minister Stephen Harper spent eight hours yesterday in this commercial centre on the Indian Ocean, visiting a school, lunching with Tanzania's President and announcing a $105-million contribution to a new health-care initiative in Africa and Asia.

Yet it was a 45-minute meeting with officials from a dozen Canadian investors, led by mining giant Barrick Gold Corp., that dominated Mr. Harper's news conference with President Jakaya Kikwete.

Thanks in large part to Barrick's three gold mines, Canada has emerged as Tanzania's largest foreign investor, prompting a resource boom that helped Tanzania record a 6.2-per-cent growth rate last year.

Yet the mining success has prompted allegations that royalties are too low and that Tanzania's people, still among the world's poorest, are not sharing adequately in the bonanza.

Adding to this is a nasty labour dispute at Barrick's Bulyanhulu gold mine, where 1,000 of the 1,900 workers have been on what the company calls an illegal strike for the past month.

A court hearing scheduled for yesterday, at which the union hoped to obtain an injunction to stop Barrick from hiring replacement workers, was postponed to today for reasons that were unclear.

Mr. Harper would not comment on the strike other than to say that he expects Canadian companies to "act responsibly within the laws of the land" when they are abroad. He praised Tanzania for creating a stable political and business environment that encourages Canadian companies to invest.

Mr. Kikwete was also diplomatic when the subject turned to Canada's investment in the mining industry and in particular the work of a committee created to advise the Tanzanian government on whether to change the royalty regime.

"We are not blaming the mining companies," the President said, noting that the companies are living within Tanzanian law.

He added that the goal of the review is to achieve a "win-win situation" for the companies and the government.

"We'd like to see more and more Canadian investment," Mr. Kikwete said.

It was the second time in recent months that Mr. Harper had met Barrick officials during an international trip. In July, he stopped off at Barrick's offices in Santiago, Chile, where the company is developing the massive Pascua Lama mining project in the Andes, despite protests from environmentalists.

Joan Kuyek, the national co-ordinator of MiningWatch, a group that critiques what it sees as irresponsible mining practices around the world, says Barrick's Tanzanian operation displaced thousands of small-scale miners and gives little back to Tanzania.

"If Mr. Harper met only with people chosen to have him meet with and didn't meet with the small-scale miners, didn't meet with the people who have to deal with the social and economic and environmental price that these mines are racking up in Tanzania, and didn't meet with their representatives, well I think that's pretty shocking," Ms. Kuyek said.

But Vince Borg, vice-president of communications for Barrick, said the displacement occurred before Barrick took over the Tanzania operation and that the ombudsman for the World Bank has found that the numbers of displaced people have been exaggerated. And, Mr. Borg said, the company has been "generating substantial economic and social benefits for thousands of Tanzanians."

The scheduled highlight of Mr. Harper's visit, which came after the Prime Minister's participation in the Commonwealth leaders summit in neighbouring Uganda, was his announcement of a $105-million Canadian contribution to a health-promotion program in Africa and Asia.

The goal of the Canadian-led program is to raise as much as $500-million to support basic health services, including training for 40,000 health workers; measles and MMR inoculations; insecticide-treated bed nets to protect children and pregnant women from malaria; antibiotics to fight pneumonia and a range of other health projects.

Mr. Harper said Canada remains on track to double its international aid to Africa to $2.1-billion in 2008-09 from a base of $1.05-billion in 2003-04.

But non-governmental groups have expressed concern that Africa is no longer a foreign-policy priority for Mr. Harper, who has emphasized Canada's commitment to Afghanistan and a renewed interest in Latin America and the Caribbean.

Mr. Harper was greeted earlier in the day at the airport by Mr. Kikwete, Tanzania's top general, a military band, a phalanx of traditional dancers, a unicyclist and a man on stilts. He was immediately whisked off to a nearby primary school where hundreds of enthusiastic pupils, dressed in white and blue uniforms, greeted him waving Canadian and Tanzanian flags and singing at the top of their lungs in Swahili, "Tanzania, We Love You, Tanzania."

Fighting off the 37-degree heat and his discomfort with crowds, a smiling Mr. Harper was ushered into a preschool class where children were being quizzed in Swahili and English on their knowledge of animal names.

Mr. Harper bantered with Mr. Kikwete but engaged only briefly with the children. Toward the end of the brief encounter, the President asked a child: "What's his name?"

"Har-per," responded the child, to which a grinning Prime Minister responded with a personal round of applause.

Mr. Harper is the first Canadian Prime Minister to visit Tanzania since Pierre Trudeau came here in 1978.
_________________________________________________________________

Multinational companies coming into countries where they exploit both the national workers and resources, while giving as little back to the economy, is a huge problem in the developing world. While I like and respect Harper, he must know that coming into a country such as Tanzania on a diplomatic mission, and then using the time to meet with Canadian investors who are already under scrutiny for their policies here, would lead to a negative outcome in the media. I do feel for him though, as the left-wing journalists pay him no favours in their description of his activities, "Fighting off the 37-degree heat and his discomfort with crowds, a smiling Mr. Harper was ushered into a preschool class where children were being quizzed in Swahili and English on their knowledge of animal names." This passage is clearly meant to make it sound as though Harper was somehow uncomfortable in his duties here, even though there is no actual evidence to support that claim. Personally I am glad to see that the Conservatives are making an effort to draw attention to the issues facing Tanzania and the rest of Africa. It is commendable that Canada has doubled its aid to Africa in the past couple of years, but we are still far below the promised 0.7% of our GDP that is meant to go to international development programs.

To find out more about the problems that Canadian mining companies are causing in the global south, go here: http://www.devp.org/devpme/eng/education/educationcampaign-eng.html

Walking ATM

I haven’t mentioned yet that living in Africa as a mzungu, everyone automatically assumes that you have loads of money, and furthermore that you will be willing to essentially throw it at them as long as they ask for it. Actually it is the people who know you the least that are the most likely to ask for money. Of course there are the people that you would expect - homeless people, street kids, etc. - the same people that are begging in every country across the world. But also there is also the mentality that people from any demographic can ask a white person for money. I can’t count how many times in the last couple of months that I have walked past kids in their expensive school uniforms and one of them musters up the one English phrase they know “give me money”. You would think that because the parents of these kids can afford to send them to fancy private school they would also teach them not to beg. It’s not just school kids, however - a couple of weeks ago I had a guy wearing a perfectly pressed Italian suit, who was walking to a shiny new white Toyota, ask me to help him out with some money in passing. This is an extreme example, but it illustrates my point. Sometimes when I am riding the daladala people yell for money from the white face in the window as we pass… like really, am I going to just start throwing bills out the window on command? I realize that most white people here are the richest people around, but it is relative, because the economies of our countries are so different. I can get by with spending 10$ on groceries a week here, but those of you in Canada (and other western countries) know that 200$ a week is cutting it close now for an average sized family. It is really dehumanizing when people regard you as a walking ATM, because it feels like you’re not a person but just a money machine. Not that I wouldn’t love to help everyone – that ideal is why I am here – but giving money does nothing to solve the problems that are rampant in this country, poverty, disease, lack of education and resources. I know that I am “richer” then the people here not because I have more money then them now, but because I have a ticket home and the potential to earn more in one year than some will in their lives. I can deal with the question of giving because I know I am giving my time and energy to these people everyday, and that is better then money. Someone once said that real poverty is the lack of choice; when people are so poor that they cannot choose what to do with their lives because they have to struggle each day to meet their own basic needs. What this world needs is not only for the rich people of the West to wake up and start giving some of their massive surplus to those in need, but also for the leaders of the developing countries to motivate their people to use aid in a positive sustainable way, and forge their own future based on innovation and hard work. Only then will we discourage the inferiority and dependency paradigms that are the legacy of colonialism in so many countries.

Water Hyena

The word for otter in Swahili is “fisi maji”, which literally translates to “water hyena”. I don’t know about you but the last time I saw an otter it didn’t seem nearly as ferocious as hyena; apparently when kids are acting up their parents sometimes call them a fisi maji… I suppose when there is only a limited frame of reference these things happen. Case in point, a zebra is called a “punda milia”, which means “striped donkey”. That is one name I can get my head around.

Fanya Kazi

Since November is now over halfway over and my last post was all about my leisure time, I figured I should do a quick update on my work here and how things are going. Two weeks ago I moved from the big house in Gangilonga out to my placement at Amani. I have a nice little self-contained house that used to be a school house for the expats children that lived at the center. It is a lot different living on my own with all Tanzanians (the students and staff at Amani) but I am adjusting well. I have been playing soccer (football for the rest of the world aside from North America) with the students at the center every Wednesday and Friday, and it has proven to be a good way to build relationships. Sports are amazing for how quickly they can erase the communication difficulties of a language barrier. I am about average in skill among the guys, some of them are very athletic and others not so much. I just about scored a goal by heading the ball towards the net last day, and they were all saying "Hongera!" (Congratulations!) to me even though it didn't go in. I guess they were surprised a mzungu could do such a thing.

Anyways, somehow I got sidetracked back into leisure time there... regarding work, I have just completed the Primary Health Assessment Survey in English which will be administered to all of the students at the center so that we can gauge their level of understanding of health issues and also the state of their home environment as they are all from different villages in the surrounding area. From this information I will be designing a relevant health curriculum to teach in the center over the next 7 months. Here are a few examples of the questions from the survey (which ended up begin 10 pages!):

Home Environment:

From which source does your family collect their drinking water in your home village/town?

• tap
• well
• spring
• stream/pond
• hole dug in ground
• other _______________________________

Which of the following best describes the latrine situation for your household?

• single latrine for your home
• latrine shared with other households
• no latrine in immediate area
• other _______________________________

Does your latrine have: (You can choose more then one)

___ walls

___ door

___ roof

___ pit cover made of wood and mud

___ pit cover made of concrete

___ pipe for ventilation

___ raised platforms for feet

___ ceramic basin in the ground

General Knowledge:

Our bodies are made of:

• soil
• blood
• air
• cells

The stomach is used for:

• digesting food and water
• breathing air
• circulating blood to other parts of our bodies
• playing sports

Blood is primarily used to:

• keep our bodies stiff and upright
• let us know when we are hurt
• transport oxygen and nutrients throughout the body
• humans do not have blood

Washing hands with soap is good for our health because:

• the soap goes into our bodies and cleanses us
• the soap washes away dirt and germs
• the soap has a soothing effect on our hands
• washing with soap is not good for our health

Malaria is caused by:

• a curse
• the bite of a mosquito infected with the malarial parasite
• the bite of a ant infected with the malarial parasite
• the bite of any mosquito at night time

The best way to treat dehydration caused by diarrhea is:

• getting lots of rest
• not drinking or eating anything
• drinking lots of clean water and using an oral rehydration solution
• using antibiotics from the pharmacy

HIV/AIDS is transmitted by:

• touching and sharing drinks/food with an infected person
• unprotected sexual activity with an infected person
• being bitten by an infected mosquito
• AIDS is caused by poverty and malnutrition only

You get the idea... the difficulty of this exercise is that all of the students have varying levels of academic experience, so we have to make a wide difficulty range to determine what direction the syllabus will take. I know that most of these questions seem very straight forward but you would be surprised at the misconceptions that exist about health and other basic sanitary practices - they have just never been taught much of the knowledge that we take for granted. Anyways, I am hoping to get the survey results and begin working on a curriculum in the next couple of weeks, but I might be going to a remote village to live and shadow the doctor and nurses there for the last week in November so we will see if that works out. That's it for now...

Safari Njema

This past weekend I had the opportunity to go on a Safari in Ruaha National Park, which is located about a 3 hour drive from Iringa. Ruaha is the second largest park in Tanzania, and it boasts the country’s largest population of elephants, yet it is one of the least visited parks because of its remote location. This was good for us, as we had the place pretty much to ourselves. We rented an 8-person minibus with a pop top roof, and it proved to be an ideal vehicle, despite its close resemblance to a daladala.

The park entrance sign.

Our crew consisted of the 3 EI interns, Jen, Sacha and I, along with a new EI UK volunteer named Ellie who has just arrived to teach Math and Science in a secondary school that EI sponsors. On top of the EI people there was Paul, an American potter volunteering at Neema crafts, Tom, a British guy on his “gap year” who is volunteering around the world, Andres, a Spanish computer scientist teaching at Tumaini University here in Iringa, and finally Liza, a German girl who works at the Lutheran Diocese headquarters. So there was quite a variety of cultures in our little group, even though we are all Westerners. The tour company also sent a driver, Kunra, and a guide, Upendo (Love), to accompany us.

We left early Saturday morning, and arrived at our campsite just in time for mid-morning tea. The place was not busy, as we were the only customers staying there and the employees were just setting up our tents when we arrived. Satisfied at the site (we didn’t know what to expect for 5 dollars a night), we moved on to our destination. Upon arrival at the park we all had to get out and pay the park fee, which is about one dollar...if you’re a Tanzanian citizen that is. Any other nationality gets the privilege of paying a mere 2000% increase on that, but I can’t complain, I would have happily paid more then 20$ to enter a world most people only see on television.

Immediately as you enter the gate there is a river teeming with crocodiles and hippos (what is the plural for hippopotamus? Hippopotamuses? Hippopotami? Apparently my spell check doesn’t know either). The crocodiles pretty much just sat there in the sun, its amazing that they are so quick and strong seeing as they appear extremely lethargic to me. The hippos would usually be under water, raising their massive heads for air every once in awhile. A couple of them came up out of the water to enjoy the sun, but they are also quite docile, as they primarily do their foraging at night. I should also mention that there are over 450 species of birds in the park. I am not much of a bird person, but Paul is, so you can imagine throughout the course of the safari someone frantically pointing out each East African yellow breasted stork-legged king fish hawk eagle thingy that comes within the radius of the moon of our vehicle. I don’t remember what any of them were called, but I did see Zazu, the bird from “The Lion King”. There is a reason why I didn’t take Ornithology in Uni.

Moving on, Paul, Tom and I quickly discovered that we could comfortably sit on the roof of the van in a much better vantage point for spotting animals, and that is where I spent the remainder of the trip; most of the others took turns because the sun was extremely hot up there (I thought the wind nicely counteracted the heat, personally). The first big land mammal we saw was a giraffe, and it was pretty incredible to be within feet of such a remarkable animal in the wild. As we drove on we found a few giraffes together, and soon a herd of zebra were crossing right in front of us. I was surprised to see the two species living together so closely, but Upendo told me that the zebra often stick with the giraffes because of their ability to spot predators coming from a distance. While it was awesome to see these two species, I am embarrassed to admit we began to see them so much that we stopped paying much attention to them after awhile.

Me with a zebra in thebackground.

Conveniently we got a flat tire right at lunch time so we had our lunch while it was being repaired. During lunch, Paul came up with the idea of stripping thorn bushes that are so common in this part of Africa and selling the thorns as toothpicks. I have to admit, I have used them as toothpicks on a few occasions and they work extremely well, albeit they are a bit sharp (we proposed putting a warning on the label, but then came to a consensus that we could never sell them in the USA because of the American penchant for lawsuits).

We were back on the road after a short break and soon saw a herd of elephants and some gazelle in a dried up riverbed. They were quite far away but we were able to sneak up quite close on a large male elephant who was busy head butting a tree. We watched him for some time and then moved on. By this time I was very happy with what we had seen but I really wanted to see lions. Our guide said that we would be lucky if we got to see lions as often they can be hard to find.

As I started calling the lions with a “hereeeeee simba, simba, simba” reminiscent of Ernie calling the fish into the boat on Sesame Street, we turned a corner to spot 3 lionesses under a tree in the shade. The call had obviously worked, and we watched them for a quarter of an hour until someone spotted a zebra “lying down” under a tree in the distance – with another lion. We excitedly drove over to the spot, and gazed upon an extremely rare scene, a lioness guarding a freshly killed zebra. Here we could get very close to the kill, within about 20 feet. It felt like the lioness could have jumped up on the roof and grabbed one of us effortlessly if she pleased. Fortunately, she was content with her zebra.

A lioness enjoying her meal.

After a while one of the other lions came over and switched spots with the current guard; the new arrival began to feed on the carcass. We were close enough to hear the ripping of flesh and see the blood dripping down her chin. After watching the spectacle for at least half an hour we left and saw some more giraffes, zebras and gazelles. On the way back we went by the kill again and this time there were three lions there, two of them were relaxing under the tree and the other was feeding on the intestines of the zebra. I also noticed a crowd of vultures at what must have been the kill site, as you could see drag marks over to the tree. We watched the three of them go about their business for some time and started heading back as dusk approached. On the way home Tom was desperately searching the treetops for leopards, but to no avail. The guide said that it was extremely difficult to see a leopard, and she had only ever glimpsed two of them in all her years doing this.

The night was great fun, we had a bonfire and played games until 11, and said goodbye to Tom as he had to catch a bus at 4 am to Malawi. We rose at 5:30 am, as we only had a few more hours until our 24 hour permits ran out and we wanted to get the most of our trip. We entered the park sleepily and were cruising along at a good pace when Ellie suddenly called for us to stop. I looked over and there it was, one of the rarest animal sights one will see, a leopard. He was sneakily stalking along in the way that leopards do, his elaborate spots acting as brilliant camouflage against the tall, dry grass. We reversed to follow his stride and he ducked down in the grass, I kept my eye on the spot and after a while he rose again. We kept following him and apparently he didn’t like this because he ducked again and this time must have crawled off as he did not reappear in the same spot.

We kept watching but eventually had to move on; the driver wanted to check once more and reversed farther in the way the cat had been traveling. Sure enough, there he was, further away but definitely visible. We then noticed that he was moving towards something, a lone impala munching grass nonchalantly. Unfortunately we spooked the impala and he was looking right at us with ears fully perked. We watched the leopard stalk around behind the impala but it wasn’t moving very quickly and the impala moved away over time. We then lost sight of the leopard but I am convinced if we hadn’t cramped his style he would have caught that impala. Nonetheless, it was an amazingly beautiful scene to witness, and we felt bad for Tom having to miss his favorite animal. We quickly sent him a text about our spot to make him jealous.

Time was running low and we were on our way out of the park when we made one last spot, one that you couldn’t miss. On our left there was a herd of nearly 300 cape buffalo crossing a riverbed. There size and numbers were awe-inspiring; we could hear the combined sound of their hooves pounding the hard ground and their snouts snorting through the dust. We watched them have a couple of mini-stampedes and then moved on. Overall we saw giraffes, zebras, elephants, lions, buffalo, gazelles, impalas, hippos, crocs, warthogs, kudu, dik-diks, monkeys, hares, bushbucks, many birds, and a leopard. This accounts for four of the “big five”, the fifth being rhino, which is not found in Ruaha, so we did pretty well. Overall it was a priceless experience, and I have a new appreciation for national parks and protected areas all across the world where animals can live naturally, away from humans and our enviornmentally devastating activities.

More pictures can be found by clicking the "Safari Njema" link under "Pictures" in the top right hand corner.

Sweet as Gandhi

I just finished reading "The Words of Gandhi" and wanted to share some of my favorite quotes from the book with you:

On daily life...

"The Golden Rule... is absolutely to refuse to have what millions cannot. This ability to refuse will not descend upon us all of a sudden. The first thing is to cultivate the mental attitude that will not have possessions or facilities denied to millions, and the next immediate thing is to rearrange our lives as fast as possible in accordance with that mentality."

On cooperation...

"My notion of democracy is that under it the weakest should have the same opportunity as the strongest."

On nonviolence...

"Nonviolence and cowardice go ill together. I can imagine a fully armed man to be at heart a coward. Possession of arms implies an element of fear, if not cowardice. But true nonviolence is impossible without the possession of unadulterated fearlessness."

On faith...

"I believe in the fundamental truth of all great religions of the world. I believe that they are all God-given and I believe that they were necessary for the people to whom these religions were revealed. And I believe that if only we could all read the scriptures of the different faiths from the standpoint of the followers of these faiths, we should find that they were at the bottom all one and were all helpful to one another."

On peace...

"I have found that life persists in the midst of destruction and therefore there must be a higher law than that of destruction. Only under that law would a well-ordered society be intelligible and life worth living."

School's Out

Today was our last day of formal Swahili classes, but ironically now is when the learning will really begin. In my placement there will be very little English spoken and I am required to teach my lessons in Swahili. The purpose of the classes was essentially to provide us with the building blocks of the language, and now it is our responsibility to put them into use. It was also a bit emotional, as we have spent the last month with our mwalimu (teacher), Betty, and have grown quite close to her and her family. During the lessons we often had to make up sentences in Swahili to demonstate that we understood the concepts taught. I always tried to add a bit of life into the lessons by creating really crazy (chizi) sentences to make Betty laugh. The final exercise was to look at a set of pictures and make a story about them. In true fashion, I ended with a story of a lazy fisherman who had his boat flipped by an irate fish. He then swam and found a piece of wood on which he rode for 5 years. Eventually he made friends with a crocodile and they were married. They died of hunger. As usual, I had the girls laughing pretty hard. Betty made sure that I knew she would miss my chizi Swahili and that we are “warmly welcome” to come visit her again any time.

To backtrack a bit, on Friday we had a cooking class, where we took the entire day to learn how to cook Tanzanian meals. There was quite a spread, including chapatis (flat bread), chai (tea), ndizi (plaintains), njegere (peas), ugali (stiff porridge), kuku (chicken), wali wa nazi (coconut rice), pilau na nyama (spiced rice with meat) and more. I had eaten most of the foods before, but until now I had not realized how much work went into cooking them. It took us over 6 hours to prepare everything. Before we came to Betty’s house we picked up the chicken from Mama Kiri’s (yes, live). I was the designated chicken carrier, and she was surprisingly well behaved in the car. We decided to name her Dorthy, as all live animals need a name don’t they? I kept thinking how strange it was that I was carrying around a living animal that would be on my plate in a few hours. Either way, Dorthy was delicious, prepared by the traditional TFC (Tanzanian Fried Chicken) method. Okay so I just made that up, but really, they simply fry the chicken in a pan full of oil, so it does quite resemble KFC, but these chickens have actually moved around of their own free will and eaten something resembling food, not just kept pinned down and pumped full of growth hormones; the down side is that they are not quite as tender.

Sorry Dorthy...........................................But your delicious!

On Saturday night, I went over to some British expats’ house to watch the World Cup of Rugby final game. The match was between England and South Africa, and it was the first time I had attempted to watch a full game of rugby. Up until then I had only seen random highlights and just assumed that it was like American football without pads. Rugby is a huge part of some countries culture, and I am always keen to learn what I can about such things. The football assumption wasn’t terrible, as there are some areas of the game, such as the way in which points are scored, which are similar. However, instead of a touchdown, it is called a “try”, which I really don’t understand, because a try usually means that you didn’t succeed. You can also score by kicking the equivalent of a field goal. If there are any rugby fans out there that take offense to this comparison, don’t worry, I know that rugby came first and that football stole its concepts, not the other way around. The main differences are that you cannot pass the ball forwards at any time, the play doesn’t end when the ball hits the ground, and the usage of “scrums” (which I don’t understand yet); I know there are quite a few other more subtle rule differences that weren’t evident just by watching one game, but you try asking a rabid England fan about the rules while they are trying to watch their team play in the World Cup final. It could be likened to a Brit asking a Canadian to explain the icing rule while Canada is playing for the Olympic Gold Medal in Hockey. Anyhow England lost to South Africa, which was a disappointment because 10 of the 12 people there were from England. I was pretty neutral, as I had recently heard the story of how South Africa was banned from the World Cup until apartheid ended, after which it was held in that country and they went on to win, scoring a decisive victory for unity in the country. I was of course very surprised to see that there were more black players on the England team then on the South African team, which made me think maybe things haven’t changed that much after all.

On Sunday there was a dedication for Andrew and Miriam’s son, Ben, and a potluck lunch held at their house afterwards. The food was great and it was nice to be able to speak English for a whole day, but I have to admit it was strange being around all of those white people at once. Amazing how fast being the minority becomes normal.

There's a frog in my bathroom...

Well just wanted to let people know that I finally got more pictures uploaded. They are a few weeks old but the internet connection has been terrible for the past while so I apologize for the delay. Anyways I hope you enjoy them, they are in the top item in the "Pictures" box to the right.

Oh, and really, there is a frog in my bathroom.

Time flies...

Well I have been in Tanzania for a month now, and I have to say that the time has gone by very quickly. Compared to the four weeks I spent in Ontario at training school in the summer, this month has seemed incredibly short. From what I have heard from people, it sounds like the first few months in a new country can go by in a flash, with the time afterwards slowing to a normal pace (presumably because one has become used to the new surroundings and life style). We have only one week of language school left and while my vocabulary still needs a great deal of work, I can hold a very basic conversation in Swahili and usually understand most of what is being said, provided that the context is evident.

You have to learn to laugh at yourself when learning a new language. For example, the verb “elewa” means “to understand,” which is useful when you begin speaking because often you will want to say “I don’t understand.” To change a verb to first person negative in Swahili one adds “si” and changes the last vowel to an “i”. Thus, for the first few weeks we were saying “silewi” (see-lay-wee) for “I don’t understand.” This was usually met by confused looks and/or laughter. It wasn’t until later we sound out that the verb “lewa” (without the “e”) is to be drunk. Since we had dropped the “e” from the negative version of to understand, we had been telling people “I am not drunk!” I don’t know why we dropped the “e”, but it illustrates how important one letter can be.

Many of you may have seen the picture of my classroom in the yard of our teacher’s home. Essentially it is just a small wooden shack, but it works and I rather like spending the day outside in the open air. The only problem is that our teacher has a crazy neighbor, an old woman who is convinced that she owns all the houses in the neighborhood and that the tenants should thus pay her the rent. Sometimes she likes to throw rocks at our classroom, and today she told us that we had not paid the rent for a year so she was kicking us out to find a new tenet who will pay up. She was also carrying a big stick so we didn’t want to argue. Luckily Betty, our teacher, knows the woman’s daughter and just calls her up when these things happen, which is much nicer then what some of the other neighbors do to her.

Oh yes, I nearly forgot that since I last wrote I have traveled on daladalas (small minibuses used for local transporation) a number of times. I had read about some pretty crazy experiences from other expats, so I was excited to see what all the fuss was about. Basically they look like miniature Volkswagon buses, and they are named things like “James Bond” and “Death Star 2000.” Most of them would not be legal to drive on the roads in Canada or any other Western country, but that doesn’t stop the driver and his bus boy (the guy who recruits passengers, collects money, and comes closer to death by road rash each day than I care to know) from fitting as many people as possible into the things. There are particular stops that you can wait at but you can also wave the things down anytime they pass you (actually they are constantly honking and yelling at you as they pass, trying to get more passengers). I am sad to say that my rides so far, albeit being rather squishy, have been rather uneventful; the only point of interest was the surprise of the Tanzanians on board when 8 wazungu invaded their minibus, outnumbering the locals. This might not seem that substantial but when you consider that they only ever see one or two white people, which whom are usually completely outnumbered and surrounded by Africans, it would be quite overwhelming to suddenly be surrounded by us. The surprise was evident by the way that they called out “Look at all the wazungu on here!” to the other locals each time we were stopped. Anyways, after this week I should be starting my placement, which is exciting, but I still do not know where I will be living yet. This is why being “flexible” is a necessary attribute for a cross-cultural worker, particularly in Africa.

Wedding Crashers

This weekend I had the privilege of attending two events which served to give me more insight into Tanzanian culture. The first was a night of cultural music, which was put on by Neema Crafts, which is a project of the Diocese of Ruaha (the same group I work for). Neema Crafts is a café and shop in which the entire African staff is disabled in some way. All of the servers are deaf, and therefore you must communicate that you wish to order by flicking a light switch which is wired to a bulb in the lower level of the café. The orders are placed by writing the items in a well-designed order card, and all other communication is done via sign language (which is provided conveniently in the back of the menu). The craft shop is another operation in itself, comprising an office, a large workshop, a courtyard and various other facilities for the workers. The workers have various disabilities but are able to create some gorgeous works of art and practical items as well. The proceeds from the sales of the café and shop go to paying the workers salaries and upgrading their equipment. This is such an important project because in Africa people with disabilities are extremely marginalized. This unique initiative gives them a new lease on life, so to speak, and a livelihood that would be unattainable in other circumstances.

Anyhow, we arrived at Neema about an hour and a half early because we were out buying our wedding gift for the next day before the market closed (which ended up being a thermos and 6 coffee mugs - on a side note, it is extremely difficult to find any products that are not remotely tacky here in Iringa, everything is either extremely brightly coloured like a child’s play set or looks like it is from the 1980’s). Being that we know the owners and other volunteers, we helped them set up for the dinner and show which was by candlelight under the stars. Eventually the night got underway, with about 40 wazungu (foreigners) and perhaps 10 Tanzanians showing up. The show consisted of one guy on the xylophone-like thingy, one woman on the drums, and 6 dancers. All of the dancers were deaf, and very talented. It must be incredibly difficult for them to keep rhythm without any sound, but they do it somehow. The show was very enjoyable, and I was told by the owner of Neema that they are raising money to send the dancers over to the UK to perform at a number of venues including one of the biggest concerts in the world (if you are interested in donating just let me know). Dinner was good too, it was a chili-like dish served on wali (rice) and pineapple cake for desert.

The next day, we had our first Tanzanian wedding to attend. I was very excited because I heard that they can be very charismatic events. The groom is part of the EI staff, a guy named Thomas who never stops smiling (this will be relevant later). The wedding was actually very similar to that we might see in Canada, so I will focus on the differences and let you fill in the gaps. First of all, on the way to the service we had to pick up “a few” other guests, seeing as we were the only ones with a vehicle going to the wedding. As we drove down the road we saw the “few” guests standing on the side of the road waiting patiently; if it were a bus stop you would have been surprised at the number of people there. So we crammed about 15 people in the back of the landcruiser for the first trip to the church, and then went back for another 10 or so afterwards. While I have not ridden in a Tanzanian minibus (daladala) yet, I think I have a pretty good idea of what it is like. By the way, the word for “squished” in Swahili sounds just like the English word “Banana.” At the service there was a great deal of singing, clapping and dancing, with various African mamas taking turns rushing the wedding party throughout the proceedings. The bride was accompanied in by a large group of people, including 4 synchronized dancing girls and many of her family members. One of the funniest things about the wedding was that the bride and groom are not allowed to smile or look happy because they are supposed to be sad at the prospect of leaving their families. So while everyone else is having the time of their lives, they have to continuously look like the family pet was just run over – this goes for the whole time, including the reception. Also, it is custom for the best man and maid of honour to fuss over the groom and bride the whole time; this means that every 30 seconds one of them is fixing hair, wiping dust, repositioning clothing, fanning air etc. on their respective person – sometimes I thought it was a competition to see who could fuss the most. When the vows were exchanged the bride and groom each got what looked like a Christmas version of a Hawaiian lai over their necks. I did not understand very much of the service as my Swahili is still rudimentary, but I know that it went on for a long time.

After the service the whole congregation followed the vehicle of the wedding party down the road to the house where the reception was taking place. The yard was full of chairs and the head table set up against the house with decorations flowing behind them. There was a huge stereo system set up outside and people were having a great time, dancing, waving kangas (east African material with Swahili sayings written on them, used for skirts etc.), singing and the like. There was a very energetic woman as the MC and she talked so fast even those who are fluent in Swahili had a tough time understanding her. After a parade of speeches, the cake was cut and it was time for gifts. When the gifts are given at a Tanzanian wedding, each group takes its turn holding up the gifts and dancing them up to the stage. This was the best part, and many times I saw Thomas trying to suppress his smile as people wrapped kangas around them, danced and sung and showered them with goods. I only saw his wife flinch once – she had a frown that could kill. When our turn came I finally realized why they told us in training school that we had to be able to laugh at ourselves during our time overseas. We were the only white people there and apparently it was extremely funny for them to see our comparatively stiff dance moves bring those presents up. The MC was calling us up, evidenced by a slurry of words containing “muzungu” coming from the speakers. Everyone was laughing at us but we let our inhibitions go and danced our white buts up there in great fashion. Afterwards everyone was so proud of us and many people came up to introduce themselves and generally make us feel very welcome.

I was very excited when people started to line up for dinner and there were no forks and knives; I would finally get to eat my meal “African Style” with my hands. As we sat down and I started to dig in, a shy young girl came up and presented us with 5 forks. I was dismayed and decided that I was happy eating like everyone else and kept on going with my hands. It is a very strange yet somehow liberating sensation to eat with just your hands, especially with something as granular as rice, as you can imagine. The dinner was excellent – it was a mishmash of 3 types of rice, a bruschetta-like tomato dish, 2 types of potatoes, beans, and of course topped off with a nice cold soda pop. Everything was over by 7, rather early, but I was glad as it was a long and tiring day.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Book of the Month

Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela

For the last few years I have been fascinated by the history of South Africa (SA) and the brutal apartheid regime implemented by the government of the ruling white minority. Nelson Mandela is the face of the struggle against the oppressive powers in SA, and is known worldwide for his opposition to racism and everything that goes with it. It was interesting because on the flight over from London to Dar es Salaam I watched a movie I had never heard of about a guard that worked as a censor for the political prisoners during apartheid. The basic job of a censor is to make sure that the prisoners only receive or send out news that relates to their immediate family, that is, nothing political may be discussed with the outside world. In the movie, the guard, Sergeant James Gregory, has a personal struggle between the racist principles of his own people and his personal convictions that all humans should be treated with respect. The movie was good in detailing Gregory’s personal life, but it left me hungering for more information about the struggle of Mandela and the African National Congress (ANC). Of course I was delighted when the first book that popped out at me on Andrew and Miriam’s shelf was Mandela’s autobiography. I immediately picked it up and could barely put it down until finishing it.

The story puts a much more human face to Mandela; beneath his iconic status is but a normal man who saw injustice and felt he had no choice but to fight it. I was surprised to learn that his upbringing was in a very rural community, in which the people lived very basically but also very contently. He details the tribal relationships and the culture that pervaded the south of this pristine continent; interestingly enough his political views were born out of the democratic nature of the tribal governance. As he matured, a few chance happenings including the death of his father led him to be taken care of by a well off family and educated in some of the best schools in SA. He eventually became a very successful attorney, and his knowledge of the law would greatly aid him in his years to come. This isn’t to say that he had things easy by any means; numerous hardships plagued this mans life and it is amazing that he remained so strong throughout.

Apartheid literally means “apartness” and was a system of classification based on race. At the top were the whites, they could vote, own land, run businesses and had essentially all of the freedoms we have in the Western world today. Next were the “coloureds” which would constitute Indians, Asians, and other immigrants, along with mixed race people. The coloureds had much less rights then the whites (they could not vote) but were better off then the next category. At the bottom of the ladder was “blacks”, the African “natives” that has originally lived on the land for thousands of years. The Africans were essentially treated as sub-humans. They could not vote, own land or use any of the same public facilities as whites. They were required to live in certain designated areas, which were essentially slums, carry “passes” to travel from one city or district to another, and gladly accept the lowest tasks from any white person who ordered them to. Their wages were next to nothing and basic rights such as access to heath care non existent. This description is far from complete but I just want to give you a bit of a picture of what it was like.

The ANC is an organization dedicated to equal rights for all, and was the main force that fought the apartheid government. Mandela slowly rose up the ranks of the ANC throughout his years as the struggle escalated. After decades of national mass action campaigns such as strikes, protests, and stay-at-homes being crushed with merciless force by the government, the ANC had to abandon its policy of nonviolence and begin acts of sabotage against the regime. This was a very difficult but necessary step and it is incredible to see the struggle within the man and the organization to make such a choice.

Before this the government had “banned” the majority of the ANC leaders, which meant that they could not participate in any meetings, give talks, or have their words or pictures published. Political dissent eventually became completely illegal and the government stepped up the police and military force against all who spoke out against them. Mandela and his colleagues were arrested and tried several times; the first few cases the government had virtually no evidence for their imprisonment, but over time more legislation was introduced to allow them to be persecuted for standing up for their rights. This was legislation that is similar to the “Patriot Act” that was implemented in the US recently to “aid in the fight against terrorism.” The guise is that it allows authorities more power against dangerous criminals, but the problem is that it makes no distinction between criminals and normal citizens; therefore it strips us of the rights we enjoy as citizens of a free and fair country. Mandela was eventually convicted and served 27 long years at the most brutal prison in the country, Robben Island.

Much happened in these nearly 3 decades, but I will leave it to you to read the book for the details. In a nutshell, the masses of people kept protesting, the government got more oppressive, violence ensued, and international condemnation of the SA government mounted. With overwhelming pressure the government finally gave in and a change of leadership ushered in a new environment where negotiations could be made. Many people lost their lives throughout this time, including Mandelas’s own son, but freedom eventually prevailed, as Mandela was released and elected President of SA in the first ever democratic elections with a one-man one-vote policy in SA. The ANC is now the ruling party in SA and there is much progress to be made, but at least everyone is now recognized as equal under the law.
In my opinion, Mandela showed his never-ending integrity throughout his lifetime. Even after so many years in prison, where every technique was used to attempt to break the spirit of the most ambitious man, he came out with the same political will and intention to free his people. Mandela is a model for all humans; he illustrates that perseverance will pay off, and that standing up for your beliefs in the face of the most brutal opposition can result in great things that you cannot even fathom at the time. One time before he was imprisoned, Mandela was in London with a friend and his colleague motioned to a statue in the courtyard of the British Parliament, mentioning in passing that one day maybe it would be a statue of them standing there. Well, history is still being made because I just read that 2 weeks ago, 30 years after this comment was made, there was a statue of Nelson erected in this same spot he walked past…

Village Life

The last couple of days we had the opportunity to visit our placements for the first time. I will be living and working at Amani CTC, which is a training center for (mostly) young Africans from the surrounding area. While our visit there was nice and I am excited to get into my placement, I am sure the majority of posts will be coming from there after I have a better understanding of the center and its mandate. For now I want to tell you about our much more exciting parlay to the village of Usolanga, which is where the girls will be stationed.

Usolanga is about 2 hours northwest from Iringa along a relatively well maintained dirt road (in the dry season at least). The road snakes out of town and is dotted with increasingly rural townships; this is notable because the further one gets from the village center the more excited people are to see muzungu (white people). Eventually everyone along the road stops to wave, and children shriek in delight with a simple wave back to them. We wanted to leave town as early as possible, but inevitably there were errands to run; this included picking up 10 bags of cement, one box of medicine, a jerry can full of diesel, some chapitas for lunch and a 17 year old local student. This being Africa, things take much longer then they would back home, due to various reasons depending on the circumstances. We actually made good time, leaving town around 9:30 in the morning (or 3:30 Swahili time, I can explain this later).

The beginning of our journey was spent trying to communicate with the young man we had picked up, primarily to practice our Swahili. We have only had 5 days of lessons now, so the conversation did not get to far; I gave up after trying to draw him a bear (this is while driving on a bumpy gravel road, and I am no artist to begin with) and then learning from Andrew that there is no word in Swahili for bear. The young man had no idea what I was talking about so eventually we just settled on the fact that it was like a lion with no mane. I apologize to all the bear lovers out there but my limited language skills could not do the majestic beast justice for this lad.

The countryside was gorgeous as always, and in certain areas it is truly what one thinks of when they think “Africa”. In other places, however, the landscape transformed into barren desert – it seems like there is no way anything could live there. Andrew told us that to the contrary, when the rains begin, everything turns a lush green and looks completely different. Our journey was stopped suddenly when Masai tribesmen were in the middle of herding their cows across the road. Unfortunately for us this was one rich chief, and the parade of ungulates extended as far as the eye can see on either side. Think of it as an African train crossing. However, as you well know, cows are not as fast as trains - eventually our patience wore thin and we squeaked through the line in a small gap, only displacing one or two beasts out of formation.

Along the way I managed to get some reading in, which makes it sounds like a smooth ride but the others were quite astonished that I could accomplish such a feat given the coarse terrain. Eventually we arrived at the village, and I have to say that it is absolutely amazing that people live here. The sun beats down mercilessly, drying up everything under its wrath. There are approximately 500 houses, with the majority being made of mud “bricks” and the roofs thatched with straw, with a typical family residence being no larger then an averaged sized bedroom in Canada. Water is a 3 or 4 kilometer jaunt to the river, but our organization has taken the initiative to equip the interns’ house with a rain water harvesting system. In a few days during the rainy season, enough water can be collected to last months. Hopefully this idea will catch on and with proper funding be implemented for the locals also. As it now stands they do benefit from the one tank because once it is full it comes out an overflow pipe which is available to the village people.

We got to tour the dispensary (clinic) that the girls will be working at, and it is rather basic, but absolutely essential for the people of Usolanga due to the lack of facilities in the village. We also took a walking tour of the village and met various people, all of whom were extremely kind and hospitable. As we made our way among the homes, we were accompanied by a gradually increasing trail of children, eager to examine our every move with wonder. Apparently we were quite the novelty, which makes sense because it is quite rare to have wazungu in the village, especially four at once. By the end of our walk we had built up a crowd of nearly 30 children of all ages, whom we tried to engage in conversation, but they mostly liked to repeat what we said multiple times until we said something else. Andrew eventually told them that we were leaving, so they scampered off in different directions. We did not end leaving right away, however, and while sitting on the steps of the girls house I began spotting little heads popping up behind trees, in doorways, and around corners. Within a short time we were surrounded again so I decided to humor them with my camera. I got them together for a picture with us and counted down: moja (1), mbili (2), tatu (3), dizi (banana)! (They say banana here instead of cheese). I then showed them their picture and had about 60 hands poking the screen saying “mimi” which (coincidently?) means me. After this we tried to explain snow to them, but to no avail (the closest we got was “cold rain that stays on the ground”); for some reason I don’t think they quite understood.

The ride home was quite an adventure in itself, and all I can say is that by the end of it the landcruiser (a SUV type vehicle) was completely packed with 4 muzungu (us), 6 Tanzanians, 2 suitcases, a jerry can, a box of bottled water, a few backpacks, a broken down motorcycle, and a live goat named Hubert. Yes, this was all inside the vehicle, and no I am not joking. The goat was a wedding gift, and the motorcycle and 2 extra Tanzanians were a good deed – the head chair (mayor) of Usolanga had been catching a ride to Iringa on his friends motorcycle when they got a puncture and the rim of the back wheel imploded on itself, leaving the spokes gnarled and broken; we provided a ride to the repair shop. Hubert was not too pleased with these tight conditions, and he let us know with his ear piercing baby-like wail each time we hit a bump. It was okay though, even though I had the most cramped spot, I had a good view out the back window of the scenery. After many stopovers and meeting some extended family of our passengers we finally got home and went out for a tasty meal of burgers and chips at the Hasty Tasty Too. There we met a couple of American students studying at the University of Dar es Saalam, and they may join us for volleyball tomorrow. That’s all for now, please feel free to leave comments, I really enjoy reading them!

Pictures!

I finally managed to upload some pictures from my time here so far. Click on the "pictures" link to the right to have a look.

Bad joke?

An American, a Canadian, and a Briton are climbing up a mountain in Africa… sounds like the start of a bad joke doesn’t it? Well actually that was just my Saturday afternoon here in Iringa. Andrew, Paul and I decided to go for a hike this past weekend. The main difference between hiking in Canada versus Tanzania is the idea of a trail. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that there are not trails here; it’s just that they are few and far between, and they don’t tend to be continuous. You will find a nice set path and follow it for some time, but then it just disappears and you are left to the mercy of the cacti and thorn bushes. The astonishing thing is that the point we hiked to has a large concrete wall and bench that was built just this past March. I do not want to imagine the fellows who had to carry all the concrete, let alone the gallons and gallons of water from the river valley. To do this without forming a path seemed very strange to us. Nonetheless the view was staggering, with gorgeous ridges and valleys rising and collapsing all around us, dotted of course by granite boulders of all sizes formed through volcanic activity. Being there under the late afternoon sun brought a whispered voice of “I am actually here” to the depths my being. After having dreamt about experiencing the majestic landscape of Africa for the last couple of years, looking at this postcard perfect view, with the hot sun beating my brow and the cool breeze mercifully lifting drops of perspiration from my skin, I could not help but feel a sense of purpose in this world.

Phone Number

Just to let you know I have a mobile phone now, if anyone wants to chat just dial 011 255 76 344 9758 from Canada (a calling card is the best thing to use). I can also send and recieve text messages very inexpensively so feel free to contact me! Tz is 10 hours ahead of BC time.

Finally here!

So this is my first entry from Tanzania; after a whirlwind 48 hours of traveling we finally made it to our new home, Iringa. The “we” consists of Jen and Sacha, the two other interns, and me. Andrew and Miriam are our in-country reps, and have done an amazing job of helping us transition into life in Tanzania. They are both fluent in Swahili, which has been crucial in the first few days of trying to get set up here. They also have a 3 month old son named Ben, who is a joy to have around.

The minute we stepped off the plane the main noticeable difference was the humidity - in Dar es Salaam, the commercial capital of Tz, it is very hot and humid, as one would expect from an African coastal city. After waiting 30 minutes in the wrong line the airport staff informed us that we could go through the residents’ entrance, since we are officially (temporary) residents. Andrew kindly met us with the original copies of our permits and we quickly found all of our luggage with minimal difficulty and made our way out to the city. The first stop was a supermarket to pick up a few things for the journey, as well as some diapers and a toaster for our house. We then went to the bus station and waited for the bus to Iringa for a couple hours. At this point we were all exhausted and in a daze from the long plane rides and multiple time zone changes, making the whole thing feel like a dream.

The bus ride from Dar to Iringa was one of the most amazing things I have ever experienced, which may sound a bit strange, but you would be astounded by the things that you see driving through a country like this. First of all, there are thousands of people just out on the streets – for example, in Canada in a normal city you might see 10-20 people at any given time in a mid sized city walking around the roads (depending of course where you are). Here, it seems like everyone has something to do on the street, and at any time you would probably see 100+ people out on a main road, either selling, buying, eating, reading, conversing, building things, fixing things…. you get the idea. Also while you in the bus, people will come up to the window when it stops and try to sell you items. Some of these are practical like water, snacks and newspapers, but there are also people selling everything from eggs, to fake watches, to green beans, to toys. I can just imagine someone heading on an 8 hour bus ride thinking, man I hope I can get some eggs on the way.

Another interesting aspect of the ride was that it seems like there are innumerable districts (I made this up, they are probably called something else) that specialize in one item, where all the shops along either side of the highway contain only one type of product. So on the way we saw the luggage district, the wooden bed district, the cement brick district, the soda pop district etc. Anyhow, it seemed odd to me, I don’t know if you will share the same sentiments. Along the way we also passed through a game park, and therefore I was fortunate enough to see monkeys, gazelles, zebra, giraffe and elephants all in the first day of being here. It was absolutely astounding to be looking at these creatures that once had only been on TV right here in person, and we were the only people on the bus who even cared! Actually I think they were laughing at us a bit for getting all excited and pointing at the animals, but then I think I would too (and do at the tourists in Jasper and Banff) who get so excited over moose, bears, caribou and elk.

Anyhow we finally arrived in Iringa, and Miriam met us at the bus station (which is actually a bit of a misnomer, as there isn’t really a “station” but rather just a spot where the buses stop). Just after dark, and again, there were people everywhere out on the street. And of course everyone wants to help the wazungu (plural form of foreigner/white person, root is from “one who wanders,” singular is muzungu) with their bags, but luckily Andrew just throws out a bit of Swahili and they leave us be. That is not to say that they are rude or pushy at all, they genuinely want to help. So far I have met quite a number of people and everyone is incredibly nice. They love our attempts at Swahili, and are very
encouraging in general. I am very exited to be able to hold a con… (haha, sorry but I have to interrupt myself and tell you that in mid sentence I looked over and there was a crazy jumping spider that just landed on my shoulder – ahhh, such is life in Africa) anyhow, I am excited to hold a conversation with the people in their language, as they are extremely enjoyable and great company even with my limited knowledge of Kiswahili.

We were brought to our house which is not far from the main area of town, and given the tour. Now I knew that my expectations would be inaccurate in many ways but I did not expect to be living in a 6 bedroom, 3 (or 4? Not sure…) bathroom house with at least 15 foot ceilings. That said, it is not what you would think of as nice in Canada, as everything is quite old and construction is not quite the same quality here. Let me just say that if you had this house in Canada it would be quite immaculate, but here it is rather basic. Nonetheless, if any of you want to come and visit there is more then enough room and some very comfy beds waiting, honestly just let me know. Anyhow, we each have our own room, mine with my own bathroom, and the girls share a bathroom, but we all share a shower. The shower is supposed to be hot but so far nothing but cold water has come out of it, so let me emphasize to you – do not take your hot showers for granted! It is amazing how quickly you can shower when it is ice cold at 7 in the morning; at least it wakes you up. I should mention that we are only living here for a month until we finish language school, then we will move to our placements which will be much more basic and rural. This house will serve as our home base for weekends. I am going to a training center on the outskirts of town to develop and teach their first health curriculum, but first I have to learn Swahili.

The food so far has been very good, very much similar to what we would eat in Canada with a few differences, but that is because we have been eating at Andrew and Miriam’s house, and they cook western food mostly (however, tonight we will have rice and beans which is quite Tanzanian). The market is bustling all day, and you can get pretty much anything that you need in town, it is actually much larger and more developed then I had anticipated. Tomorrow we begin language school, with our mwalima (teacher) Betty, whom we met today. She has a “classroom” set up in her garden, which is really open air 8 by 8 hut built out of trees. She also has the cutest 4 year old boy named Marky, who was very shy yet interested in us, and I anticipate he will be my friend by the end of it. Anyhow, thanks for reading if you got this far; there is so much to write about as I have only touched on a fraction of the amazing new things I have seen and done already here. This has been such an eye opener, I think that everyone should come and see how people live in other parts of the world if they have the opportunity.

Until next time!

Less than a week...

Well since I last wrote a great deal has happened; my working permit came in, my plane tickets got booked, and basically everything has fallen into place for me to hop over the pond to my new home in Tanzania. I was expecting to be there already but as things worked out we are not heading over until the 16th of September. My personality deals with such unexpected occurrences quite well, as I always try and focus on the good that comes out of a situation (and this is a key skill for someone working internationally - as time will tell).

One such good was the wedding of my cousin Breanne(once removed? I don't follow all the technical stuff so she is my cousin as far as I am concerned) to Colin, which I was fortunate enough to attend this past Saturday. It was a great time, with the ceremony taking place in a country field, complete with hay bails, carts, and even a working shotgun (don't worry, it wasn't loaded, although I wouldn't put it past the owner, Dustin). They even towed all of the guests out behind tractors to the seating area. Everything went great, and the reception hall was beautifully decorated - and the bathroom had almost every personal hygiene product you could think of, right down to denture cream and Q-tips (don't ask me who is using this stuff at a wedding). Anyways I am getting off track with the details here and basically just wanted to say that it was an excellent time, and I got to see many family members and say goodbye before I leave to Tz.

Also, I posted the pictures of my Mount Robson hiking trip, you should be able to access them via the link on the right that says "pictures". It seems to be working but please someone let me know if they are having trouble getting to the Facebook page that stores them. I think that this will be the most viable way for me to post pictures once I am in Africa. As you may see it was an incredible trip, with great weather and company (Thanks to my Uncle Roger, Auntie Vicki and Cousin Kyle! Okay and Jenna was there too :D...). Well now I am going to be packing for the next 5 days in a frenzy so the next post will be from Iringa, Tz. Hopefully the flights go well and our luggage makes it along with us. Until next time!

Synchro

So it looks like this blog is all set up and working now - interesting, it is, to follow something as it is born and grows and then to suddenly become a part of it. The "blogosphere," as it is known, has captured my attention for quite some time, along with the concept of "Web 2.0". I think that the idea of the Internet evolving to be mainly user driven is a good one, as long as it fosters creativity and does not sequester it. For my purposes this online journal is the most efficient way to communicate with a large number of people, and if the number of expat blogs online nowadays is any indication, it is a relatively good medium.

So just to update you, I have completed my training, which consisted of 2 weeks with EI in Stoufville and 2 weeks in Toronto doing COPE (Cultural Orientation for Personal Endurance and Enjoyment). Now I have been spending time in and around Prince George, preparing and saying goodbyes, along with some recreation time enjoying the beautiful outdoors that Canada has to offer. This week I am hiking Mt Robson, which is something I have wanted to do for a couple of years now - it will not only be a great chance to enjoy the wilderness but should also provide a good test subject for my future picture posting methods on this blog. I am going to include a list of my responsibilities as outlined in the CIDA job description here because I had it in my intro before but it made the page far too long:

-Bringing motivation and resources to students and staff with regards to health promotion and disease prevention.

-Working with the centre staff to develop a health curriculum to address prevalent health issues including malaria, diahorreal disease and STDs.

-Encouraging improvement of household level hygiene, sanitation, water use and cooking facilities, both within the centre and through extension village visits and practical demonstrations.

-Working with community groups to improve the level of education in the village on HIV/AIDS awareness, prevention and care.

-Encouraging students to develop creative presentations which can be performed in local schools and villages to raise awareness of HIV/AIDS.

Phew, sounds like a lot, but I am up for it and excited beyond belief...until next time!