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, an
d 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.
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, an
d 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!
