Peter and Debbie Become Guest Dependent

Our household, like a struggling African country plagued by pre-colonialism, colonialism, post-colonialism, Imperialism, the Bilderburgers, the Skull and Bones, the IMF and neo-conservative global economic systems, has become dependent on the generous aid of outsiders. 

Margaret, who came here from the bustling city of Bukoba, has helped us to develop.  She brought with her wine, cheese and her youthful idealistic enthusiasm but mostly she brought with her practical skills to help us move forward.

As shown in the picture above she brought certain plumbing skills.  She showed us what this little brush was for and we let her go to town.

We wern't completely sure what to do when the glass bulb in the ceiling failed to light.  We bought candles but Margaret showed us how to do electrical work.

Admittedly our house was a bit dirty.  Margaret changed all that.  She put her development skills to work sweeping the dust from our floors and the cobwebs from our minds.

She washed the dirt from the clothes but she told us that she was learning more than she was teaching.

Alas, we have become guest dependent.  When Margaret leaves---will we sink back into the swamp of pre-development?  Will we be able to continue to follow her example?  Will we be able to take ownership of our own development?  Is this a sustainable situation?   These are big questions.

When will more guests arrive?

Water Water Everywhere

Our water supply is working.  The connection is ours.  We have a veritible Noah-like flood of water.  Our cistern floweth over.  Kudos to Madam Christina, her sister Margaret and the Big Water Potatoes of Kibaya.

The Best Darned Chapatis in East Africa

For those of you unfamiliar with Chapatis, they are flat breads about the size of pita bread.  They are not quite as thick as nan bread but thicker than a tortilla.  We eat them a lot.  Delicious with home-made marmalade for breakfast they also go down nicely with everything from a stew to a fruit salad.  They can be used as a wrap.

Thanks to Auntie Irene's, Recipe Book for Tanzania, and to Fredrik's revised VSO cookbook, Debbie has perfected these little wonders.

I challenge you to make a batch and to tell me how it went.

Ingredients:

1 ¼ cups of flour

2 ounces of cooking oil

4 ounces of water

Pinch of salt

Method:

Mix the flour and salt in a bowl

Add water and mix into a fairly thick dough

Knead until smooth

Roll into a circle on a floured bowl

Brush the surface lightly with oil

Cut once from the center of the dough to the edge

Starting from one side, roll the pastry into a cone shape

Press both ends in and knead lightly

Repeat this process at least once more

Divide the dough into six balls

Roll each thinly into an even circle

Heat a frying pan and add a few drops of oil

Cook the chapatis on both sides

Chapatis served with fruit salad, local honey and Tanzanian red wine

Water Woes

We moved in to our new house the day before Christmas Eve.  The electrical fundi and the plumbing fundi (the gentleman who does plumbing repairs with cobs of corn) were able to connect the water pump and get it operational.  We were so happy to have water at last.  We started to decorate with wall hangings and baskets and to invest emotionally in our new home.  We got our clothes hung up and our books shelved.  We hired a wood fundi to construct a clothes line and we put up curtains.  Debbie began to nest big time.

Check out the cool wall hanging.

Then the water supply suddenly ended.

I phoned the Assistant District Water Engineer who did get back to us saying that he would look into the problem and solve it. 

Everything is broken here and the infrastructure is a shambles.  Tanzanians are languid and unhurried and having tea is a top priority.  They seem to know that nothing can be achieved in this life anyway so why bother. 

But we are different.  We want things to work.  We want things to get better and so we strive.

It’s easy for me to promise myself that I will become more laid back but it’s hard for me to follow through after a lifetime of being productive  Ambition melts away though like the snows on Mount Kilimanjaro.  It must be the heat. 

This morning we went to Madam Christina’s house to get her to come with us to the Big Water Potatoes down at the government offices to get to the bottom of the problem.  Madam Christina is filling in for Mr. Ndee, our supervisor, who is off on holiday. 

Madame Christiana’s sister is down visiting from Arusha and she also came with us to see the Big Water Potatoes.  Her English is excellent and she has a very good sense of humour.   She told me that spiritually she felt that water would be connected soon and that all these trials were just a part of life.  We had tea with them before heading down to the government offices.  No point in rushing.

Not surprisingly the Biggest Water Potato wasn’t in his office.  His secretary assured us that our water would be connected tomorrow.  At the office I spoke to another Water Potato, responsible for Water Accounts, on the phone.  He also said we would be connected tomorrow and that he would help. 

Our two Burner Hitatchi Living System

Water is rationed in Kibaya but the water bureaucrats, left over from the old days of Afro-Marxism, are not.  We should have water on Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays.  No one can tell us exactly what time during the day it will be turned on.  We will get a water bill once a month.  A water meter might be installed.

Should I be worried? No way.  VSO Tanzania promises its volunteers adequate housing including a reliable water supply--we signed a contract with them guaranteeing this.  I trust them even after three months.  We know if push comes to shove they will support our need for a water connection.   Almost nothing is more important than access to a water supply and without it our placement here is unsustainable.

Squatters don't plug up as much as sit-down toilets.

(knock on wood)

Christmas Morning In Our New House

Debbie, Margaret and Peter beside the Christmas tree.

Merry Christmas To All And To All A Good Night

Bing Crosby has just finished crooning, “I'll be Home for Christmas.” on the computer.  It's Christmas Eve in Tanzania and Debbie and I will be home for Christmas, if only in our dreams.

We have a plastic tree up and the house has been decorated in minimalist style.  Elaborate Christmas decorating is impossible here.  Being able to decorate for the holidays at home is one of countless examples of Canada's productivity and richness.  I am promising myself this Christmas that I won't take our country's amazing skill and wealth generating ethos for granted ever again.

Our larder is well stocked.  Beef filet, carrots, potatoes and onions will go into a delicious pressure-cooker stew tomorrow evening.  Dumplings will grace the top of the stew and the whole dish with be seasoned with summer savoy and sage. We have tomatoes, green peppers and the biggest avocados I have ever seen for a salad.  The dressing will be made with olive oil.

We also have a small fruit cake and a plum pudding.  I will light the plum pudding on fire and we’ll enjoy it with real coffee brewed from beans we picked up in Arusha.  Something special involving bananas might be on the menu.

We are healthy and happy.  We are together.  Our African journey has been productive and there have been many times when the adventure has left us awestruck.  We have learned much more than we have taught and have met more kind and generous people than we can count.

This is the time of year when I think about 'Christmas Past.'  Maybe you do to.  It is my time for reflection but mostly for nostalgia.

I remember the year our daughter was born.  We brought her home on Christmas Eve and put her under the tree.  The three of us spent Christmas alone in our tiny apartment in NDG.  We roasted a goose bought at Favourite Meat Market.  The day was filled with love.  Life was an endless promise.

I remember all those many Christmases we spent with my parents, my aunt and my cousin singing ‘Deck the Halls’ when the guests arrived, eating the Christmas goose, opening piles of gifts, reminiscing and drinking wine.  Watching our kids dig into their Christmas loot.  At the end of the meal there would be my father's Irish Mist and Drambuie and every year we discussed which was best.

Then there were the years we piled into the car on the last day of school and drove non-stop from Montreal to Nova Scotia with the kids in the back seat.  Christmases on the West Tatamagouche Road were special.  The smell of Ina and Lawson's wood stove heating up the kitchen and the traditional goose roasting in the oven are things I will always remember.

I remember that Christmas in our son’s first apartment.  It was his first time to host a Christmas dinner in his first home.  Our daughter and her husband were there.  I was so proud of my son's new found independence.

There were the Christmases we spent away.  In Korea we were with our niece and son.  We watched Jimmy Stewart in 'It's a Wonderful Life' and ate pot luck.  In China we feasted with our friends and my cousin and his family.  Our friends and family made everything perfect.

Every Christmas has been the best.

 The last few have been celebrated with Debbie’s sister and her husband.  Seeing Debbie and her sister in the kitchen together doing the preparation is heart-warming.  They have become even closer since we moved to Tatamagouche.

I could go on.  I could write about Christmas shopping in Montreal with my friend. There were our inevitable trips to the Body Shop where every year I asked about animal testing.  There were our long lunches of meat blintzes and boiled beef (when it was on) and a bottle of the red at that little Polish restaurant on Prince Arthur.

It's getting late and the stockings are hung.  It's time to find 'All Creatures Great and Small,' the Christmas episode, on the hard drive.  It's time to cut the fruit cake and to open the Glenfiddich.  It’s time to let Siegfried and James transport us to the world of Christmas in the Yorkshire Dales of 80 years ago.

We wish every single one of you a very Merry Christmas filled with peace, joy and happiness.

 

 

Graduates

This picture was taken on the last day of a five day English proficiency and teaching methodology course for secondary school teachers.  The course was  delivered by our five Champion Teachers shown in the first row.

Plumbing With A Difference

As of this writing we are not yet moved into our house here in Kibaya. We are still guests of another VSO volunteer. We are not suffering unduly, however, as our hostess has been very gracious. We have our own bedroom with two comfortable single beds equipped with functioning mosquito nets and a study where we can do our lesson preparation. The house has running water, a beautiful deck and toilet facilities which in this part of the world are luxuries. We can't complain about physical deprivation.

The house that we are to move into was supposed to be ready for us two weeks after we arrived. It is now almost three months later and the renovations have not been completed. I would say that Tatamagouche contractors could have completed the job in three easy days.

One of the problems that is contributing to the three month delay is the skill levels of the local workmen. The plumber, in particular, has certain problems distinguishing vegetables from plumbing materials. As the picture above shows he has used a cob of corn to plug a pipe outside our house. *

We were hoping to be moved in by Christmas but this date has now become a moving target. The plumber is nowhere to be found. I hope he is not searching for more plumbing materials in the vegetable market.

* NOTE TO NOVA SCOTIA PLUMBERS: Please do not start using cobs of corn or other vegetables as plumbing materials. It is highly unlikely that they will meet Canadian building standards and codes.

The Gift of a Goat

It was difficult for us to know what to get as a gift for the happy couple when we and a small group of Mzungus were invited to a Masai wedding two weekends ago. We rejected the usual options of a blender, an electric fondu pot and an Italian espresso maker with built in milk frother and chocolate shredder as completely impractical and impossible to get. There was no contest. A goat was the perfect choice for this occasion. It wasn't on any bridal registry list but our good friend, Mr. Aloyse, had the contacts in the goat market to make it possible for only 35,000 Tsh or about twenty dollars.

Unfortunately we couldn't attend the wedding. We were in Zanzibar assisting with the English Proficiency course that five of our local teachers were taking and so had to miss the big day. We did get our hands some fabulous wedding pictures though.  Can you think of a better way to get a goat to a wedding than in the trunk of a taxi?

Making PIE in Zanzibar

Zanzibar is a place of the imagination like the Serengeti and the snow-capped Mount Kilimanjaro.  It evokes historical memories of the spice trade, dark passageways winding through the crowded market, slaves in chains and the caliphs and sultans of bygone days.  It is a fecund mix of Arabia, East Africa, India and Europe.

We were able to spend a week on this fabled isle as part of the PIE Project or Proficiency Initiative in English.  Acronyms rule in development.  The purpose of the project is to train selected Tanzanian secondary school teachers in English and English language teaching methodology. These selected Champion Teachers are expected to pass on their training to their colleagues in a series of sessions that will last until the end of March.

The Champion Teachers were brought to Zanzibar and in very intensive sessions practiced English and were taught methods that will allow them to move away from rote learning corporal punishment and chalk and talk.  The new methods will encourage their students to participate in their own learning.  Our job is to guide and mentor our five Kibayan Champion Teachers.  In order for the project to be successful we must not take control but allow them to take ownership to explore these methods with their colleagues at their own pace.

As it stands now English skills are very low in Tanzania.  If development is to take place and if Tanzania is to take its place on the world economic stage English proficiency is vital.  If this project is successful it will revolutionize the teaching of English in Tanzania.

I'm very enthusiastic about the project but I'm also realistic.  This is Africa and things don't always turn out as expected or planned.  All our fingers are crossed that the enthusiasm generated in Zanzibar will carry over to Kibaya.

Zanzibar is very cool.  I'm not sure I'd like to live there but for a visit it is superb.  It is possible to live an entirely western life there.  Because it is a tourist destination the restaurants and bars are up to international standards.  We sat on balconies enjoying the thirty degree temperatures while watching the sun set over the Indian Ocean.  We sat in beach bars and dug our toes into the white sand.   A wide variety of food was to be had in the outdoor cafes, everything from chicken tikka masala to falafel wraps.  Our home in Kibaya is more authentically African though.  It is so off the beaten tourist track that hustlers and touts are unknown there and an innocence prevails that is never found in tourist areas.

 

Role Playing at the Teachers' Centre

We have our students perform many role plays.  The goal is to make them comfortable expressing themselves in English and to have a bit of fun at the same time.  In this role play Jeremiah is playing a son.  He is trying to convince his moher, played by Lucy, that he should marry a Canadian girl.  Lucy thinks otherwise and is trying to talk him out of the plan.

Hi Ho Hi Ho It's Off To Work We Go

Some of you have been asking about our work. As we understand it, the challenge is to upgrade the English language skills of teachers, to expand teachers' methodology and to help them to create low cost teaching aids.

Over a year ago, our predecessor, Louisa started the Programme for Improved English (PIE) in Primary Schools. We are continuing that work which is aimed at seven primary schools in and around Kibaya. Each week we run two identical workshops for teachers, one at the CERC building beside where we live, the other at the teacher centre, a twenty minute walk away.

Yesterday ten teachers showed up at CERC. That's impressive attendance so far. We opened with an old standby game of “I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter ....” The teachers like this one. We had taught it during the first workshop so they were familiar with it and the game moved along nicely. Then we threw in a few other ideas, you can teach colours, adjectives, categories, etc. With each new twist there was a pause and you could virtually 'hear the penny drop'. The ancient blackboard is the only visual aid but they really appreciate it when we write the clues “something that is blue, ...tall, ... made of wood”. I really get the impression this is one activity they will use.

Role playing seems to be above their comfort level but we get everybody up anyway. Some who have been to three workshops already are becoming more comfortable with us are getting used to putting on a little skit. We're not worrying about grammar. We just want people up and talking and having fun.

To practice quick replies we did a game with a set of questions matched to numbers. Each teacher had to reply quickly to a numbered question by drawing from a deck of cards. For example #5 'What would you do if you were rich?' This following one got us some insightful answers:

'What would you do if you could change one thing about your school?'

... make sure the school had enough water.
... have a shelf full of books in each classroom

          ... have enough desks and seats.

... build two classrooms for each standard (one of the schools has 124 eleven year old kids in standard four. (That suggestion would reduce class size to 61.)
... hire competent teachers.

Low cost teaching aids seems to be pretty far down the list of priorities, but they seem keen on whatever we can offer. Activities that cost nothing and don't require much moving around would be high on my list. Let's see what today's workshop brings in the way of ideas.

Daily Routine

Most days we get up at about 7:00 am.  Until then we try to ignore the roosters.  We put a big pot of water on to heat for our showers.  Most people here have outdoor charcoal stoves so our propane gas stove is a luxury. 

When the water is boiling we carefully carry it into the bathroom using oven mitts because Tanzanian pots don't have handles.  This is just one of life's many mysteries.  We pour half the hot water into a plastic basin and cool it down with water from the tap.  Plastic buckets and basins are everywhere here - many thanks to the Chinese. We wash with this water and use the second half of the hot water to rinse off with.  Soap and shampoo are easy to get although they are expensive.

We have been brushing our teeth with the tap water!!  So far this hasn't caused any health problems.  The tap water is not suitable for drinking and so we try to remember not to swallow it.  Water must be boiled and then put through a water filter to make it safe for drinking. 

CUSO-VSO supplies all volunteers with survival kit containing an Indian made water filter.  The survival kit we were given also included a mosquito net to cover our bed and a year’s supply of condoms of both the male and female varieties so we are unlikely to run out.

Breakfast consists mostly of toast and marmalade which we make from the local oranges (green in colour).  Sometimes we can get peanut butter and honey is almost always available.  We have a reliable source of sliced white bread (knock on wood).  Bananas are easy to get and so we often have one for breakfast.  Cheese is completely out of the question.

We have powdered instant coffee with our breakfast.  Tanzanian ground coffee is excellent but very scarce and can only be bought in major cities.   We can get powdered whole milk and so I put a teaspoon of it into my coffee.  Teabags can easily be gotten as can sugar.  Tanzanians have sweet tooths, or is it teeth?

Over breakfast we often practice our Swahali.  We know the numbers and can make simple sentences in present, past and future.  We have advanced to the point where the locals laugh at our accents but they are beginning to understand us.

If we need food and supplies we walk down to the market after breakfast.  The market is made up of many small covered stalls selling fresh fruits and vegetables.  Since there is no refrigeration in the butcher stalls it is vital to buy meat in the morning just after it has been slaughtered and before the flies have taken their share.  Our house has a fridge. 

After returning from the market we work on making lesson plans for our training sessions with the local teachers.  These sessions take place on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.  Each session is two hours but many teachers arrive late.  Motivating them is a big challenge but we do have a small group of dedicated people who want to improve their English skills. 

Lunch is usually a salad with toast or a bowl of soup.  On our last trip to Dodoma we found some Knorr powdered soup so we bought 13 packages.  There are ten left but who's counting?  Today we are going to make cucumber and avocado sandwiches with some mayo we found in Arusha.  Five cats share our deck and for the last few days they have lunched with us opting for fresh and readily available birds.  After lunch we sweep the feathers off the deck and wash the dishes.

During the afternoons we read on our Kindles, email or work on lesson plans until supper unless we have the workshops with our teachers.  As soon as we get our transportation budget money from CUSO-VSO we'll start visiting the seven schools in our area to help out where we can. 

In the late afternoon our boss, the director of the Community Education Resource Centre, Mr. Ndee, often comes to visit us.  Over a Mountain Dew, Mr. Ndee's favourite tipple, we discuss the day's activities.

We eat supper around 7:00 pm.  We have been making beef stew in a very scary Indian made pressure cooker we bought in Arusha.  It came without operating instructions and often makes furious hissing noises.  Sometimes we eat vegetable stew.  Tonight we are going to branch out and try to make stuffed eggplant provinciale.

In the evenings we watch TV shows that we loaded onto an external hard-drive brought from Canada.  We are now watching old episodes of Cracker, starring Robbie Coltrane.  The computer that we got with our Air Mile points has a battery so we can use it to listen to music or watch films even during the sometimes very frequent and long power failures.  Not to worry, candles are available. 

I am listening to Frank Sinatra as I type this.  The chairman is telling us to take off into the blue and how very nice it is to go travelling and to be footloose with only a toothbrush and comb.

We usually hit the hay about 9:00 pm.

Our simple life is good.

Building Relationships One Handshake at a Time

Maasai Saturday

When you travel through Kibaya, the town where we are living, you are sure to see some Maasai.  Kibaya is at the southernmost end of the Maasai Steppe which extends northward all the way into Kenya. 

It’s easy to identify the Maasai as they are the most colourful tribe in the area.  They wrap themselves in plaid shawls and blankets.  Their sandals are made from motorcycle tires.  The men, who are usually over six feet tall, carry four foot polished sticks, about an inch in diameter and sheathed machetes.  Their hair is often braided in elaborate styles.  Both men and women can wear elaborate jewellery.

The Maasai are pastoral nomads who herd goats and sheep but their lives are based mostly on their cattle.  Cattle provide the bulk of their living.  They eat beef, blood and milk almost exclusively although when we visited a family boma (home) on Saturday we ate mashed pumpkin but that is only because milk is scarce during the dry season.

Kissiyogi (apologies for the almost certain misspelling), our Maasai friend, met us just after breakfast.  His plan was to take us to his village in the morning and then to another village in the afternoon so that we could see an elaborate Maasai ceremony.  Although Kissiyogi speaks English, much of the conversation with his family was translated by another volunteer who speaks fluent Swahili,  

Kissiyogi’s village is in a small clearing in the bush.  There are two houses and a pen for cattle made from thorn bushes.  The houses have a frame made from sticks.  The frame is covered with mud mixed with cattle dung and water.  The mud and cattle dung dries to cement like finish which is painted with designs.  It doesn’t smell like manure.

Inside the houses are extremely dark.  When we went in I stumbled over pots that were scattered on the floor next to a cold fire pit and almost fell onto a sleeping platform made from layers of small twigs.  I am not certain how I would have handled the situation had I smashed a Maasai bed into splinters. 

Light enters the house through two six inch openings in the wall and a small slit near the roof line.  .

The whole experience of being inside the house was very disorienting and confusing.  It was hard for me to understand how the smoke from the fire would exit the house as the fire pit had no chimney.  I was told that when the cooking fire is going, smoke exits through these same tiny holes and the house gets very smoky.  All I could think to do was nod my head.

I had to bend over to walk inside the house and I am shorter than the average Maasai.  I wanted to ask why they didn’t make their houses taller so that they could walk upright in them.  But I didn’t as there is just so much I don’t understand.  I had no idea of where to begin.

Outside, sitting on small wooden stools we drank metal mugs of sweet tea made mostly from milk.  I could taste the smoke from the cooking fire in the tea.  We also ate mashed pumpkin from a communal metal pot which sat on the ground.  We were each given our own spoon.

 The Maasai are polygamous.  Kissiyogi’s father has two wives and thirteen children.  Kissiyogi is still unmarried.   He has only twenty cows as he has sold some of them to pay for his four younger siblings’ school fees.  I suspect that the lack of cattle is keeping him single.

 According to what I was able to understand, when a man marries he provides his wife with a house and gives her ten cows.  Her responsibility is to increase her herd and as such, the family’s wealth.  When a male child is born he is given a cow for each birthday.  These cattle become his money in the bank so to speak.  When they are old enough the children begin to look after the cattle.

Kissiyogi told me that it would be good for me to get a younger second wife to provide me with a few more children.  ‘Having young children around all the time makes you feel happy’ he said.  The Maasai find it difficult to understand how we can be happy without young children around.  Looking over at Kissiyogi’s father, I had to admit he had a point.

We also talked about economic issues.  The Kibaya Maasai have been making agreements with Arab traders in Dodoma for the sale of their cattle.  The Maasai rent a truck and transport the cattle to Dodoma.  When they arrive the Arabs break the agreement and lower the price.  After having paid the rental on the truck and made the five hour trip to Dodoma the Maasai have little choice but to accept the lower price.

When we were discussing these issues I was wishing that there were a few Tatamagouche farmers with us.  They might have offered some concrete suggestions.

Circumcision Ceremony

On Saturday afternoon we attended a circumcision ceremony.  The Maasai circumcise both male and female children.  Circumcision marks the entrance into adulthood.  I was happy that we didn’t witness the surgery.  People in our culture have a hard time accepting female circumcision so much so that it is referred to as genital mutilation.

We did get to see the dancing and celebrations.  About thirty young men of the tribe gathered in a circle about ten feet in diameter.    Accompanied by throat music several men enter the circle at a time and do standing jumps, at least three feet in the air.  It is mesmerizing to listen  and watch . 

As the sun set we were invited into a Maasai house for stewed beef and Pepsi.  Inside this simple house, constructed entirely out of sticks, mud, cow dung and water, one of the Maasai text messaged on his cell phone while drinking a soda pop.  Two worlds colliding.

On the walk home, using the flashlights on our cell phones to guide our way, we had a lot to think about.

 

Bukoba and Back

Distances are deceiving in Tanzania. 

The country looks small on a map but getting around is a serious trial.  The roads are terrible.  The well-travelled but unpaved back roads that we have been on are not nearly as good as the walking trail that runs by Patterson’s Wharf in Tatamagouche.  They are rutted dirt tracks. 

The paved roads often have more pot holes than asphalt and the bus drivers race.  I suspect they make bets with each other as to who will reach a certain point first but I can't be sure.  More times than not the buses break down and the passengers wait patiently by the side of the road until field repairs are done.  We have been on speeding buses that have forced school kids to jump into ditches.

The purpose of going to Bukoba was to pick up a four wheel drive truck that our colleague in Kibaya, Tessa, had bought, sight unseen, from VSO.  The plan was to take buses to Bukoba, pick up the truck, and drive home.

But, as they say here, TIA - This is Africa and things hardly ever turn out as planned.  When they don't   you learn to ‘Make Another Plan’.  Making Another Plan is standard operating procedure.

The first leg of the safari was from Kibaya to Dodoma.  Two hours down a dirt track and then two hours along the pavement.  On that bus we met young Moses, a twelve year old who was travelling, by himself, to Dodoma to be interviewed by a private school.  He was hoping to win a scholarship. 

Not surprisingly, the bus broke down.

While the driver worked on the engine we drank orange Fanta by the side of the road and chatted with Moses.  Kids like Moses with their quiet confidence, independence and a hunger for education against daunting odds hold the future of Tanzania in their hands.  It is impossible not to like kids like him.  It is impossible not to root for them.

Around mid-afternoon we arrived in Dodoma and went straight to Liesbeth and Frederick’s house, as prearranged.  Liesbeth and Frederick and two volunteers from Holland.  They have a beautifully decorated place with paintings of the walls and African sculpture on the tables.  A skylight sets things off nicely.  They have made a cozy home in Dodoma.  They also have hot showers and wireless internet which were much appreciated.  We ate delicious pancakes for breakfast topped with the local honey and ground coffee, unusual treats for us.  We were thankful for their hospitality.

The next leg, from Bukoba to Dodoma took two days.  We stayed overnight in Kahama. 

The road from Kahama to Bukoba runs dangerously close to the border with civil war torn Burundi where refugees had been known to kidnap bus passengers.  During this part of the trip we were accompanied by a guard holding an AK-47.

We got into Bukoba around mid-afternoon and checked into the Lake Hotel, an old colonial hotel that has gone from faded to tatty.  According to the Lonely Planet guide book, in its hay day Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner had drinks in the garden and with a lot of imagination I could just barely envision it.   It was close to the shores of Lake Victoria and so we were able to spend an hour or so walking along a sandy beach.  It wasn’t Blue Sea Beach, but it was nice just the same.

We also were able to have supper of Chicken Tikka Masala and to meet up with several other VSO volunteers and hear their stories.  Margaret, Jonathan, Michael, Djoke, Marc and Godwins all came to meet us.  VSO volunteers are like family and meeting up with them is always a very special event.

The truck Tessa had arranged to buy turned out to be an unsafe clunker.  She rejected it and so the original purpose of our trip was derailed.  But TIA and Make Another Plan and return home by bus.

At the crack of dawn we were ready for another marathon bus trip to Mwanza.  There we arranged for a Land Cruiser and driver to take us to Arusha through the Serengeti Plain and past the Olduvai Gorge and the Ngorongoro Crater.

Through the Serengeti we saw giraffes, wildebeests, zebras, jackals, baboons and even a lion.  To be driving through the same place where our earliest ancestors first walked was a very special privilege.

A full day in Arusha was spent relaxing, buying kitchen supplies and western food in the supermarket.

The final day of our trip was a ten hour bus trip on yet another dirt track.  Clouds of dust covered everything.  We were packed in like sardines.   At one point Tessa was holding a baby.   We were lucky to have seats. My feet were propped up on cases of bottled water and cooking oil and a Maasai warrior was balancing himself by holding onto my leg. Live chickens squawked somewhere just behind my head.  Tessa had seen two goats loaded into the luggage compartment.

It was good to get home.

We covered a lot of ground on this trip.  I can hardly believe that we have only been here for a month.  TIA.

 

 

Birthday in Tanzania

I don’t make much fuss over birthdays so I wasn’t expecting anything exceptional to happen yesterday.  That is, unless you consider exchanging multiple handshakes and greetings with Masasi warriors, while on your way to the bank, to be exceptional.  Masasi warriors are the pastoralists dressed in purple and red plaid cloth, carrying four foot sticks and wearing sandals made from re-cycled motorcycle tires.  They have a culture apart from any other.

My day began with a thoughtful birthday card containing a phone voucher and the command Phone Home.  Later, a meeting convened at our CERC office turned out to be a chai (tea) party for all staff complete with the special donut-like snacks called vitumbua that Mr. Ndee only buys for special occasions. 

When asked to divulge the source of these delicacies, Mr Ndee always gives the same reply “You have to order the day before and you need to talk in big letters.”  In lieu of candles the small cakes were decorated with Tanzanian and Canadian flags stuck on toothpicks.  The Tanzanians got a great kick out of this.  I was draped in a Masasi woman’s scarf and we all had our pictures taken while everyone sang Happy Birthday. 

Our colleagues from Dar es Salaam arrived in the evening bearing a real chocolate birthday cake.  All of the customers in the restaurant were fascinated; happily there was enough for everybody.

On the way home there were phone calls and text messages.  What more could one want? 

The Freedom Torch Arrives in Kibaya

This is an important year in Tanzania. It is the 50^th anniversary of independence from British colonial rule. A charismatic mwalimu (teacher) named Julius Nyerere was instrumental in the drive for independence and was elected as their first president. I don't know much about Tanzanian history yet except what I have picked up in the 'Lonely Planet' but I do know that Nyerere is a highly respected person here. You can see the picture of his kindly face in just about every government and school office.

Yesterday we had the opportunity to attend a huge celebration in Kibaya. Fifty years ago a torch symbolizing Tanzania's freedom and independence was lit atop Mt Kilimanjaro. This year the torch is being taken all over the country with celebrations at every stop.

The freedom torch was scheduled to arrive at Bwakalo Secondary School and so we walked for about 45 minutes up a dusty road, past very modest clay brick houses, to watch the ceremony. People came outdoors to greet us with habaris (hellos) and shikamoos (hellos to an older person).

On arrival at the school we were swarmed by students. All of them wanted to shake our hands, to practice their English greetings and to have us take pictures of them. I am constantly amazed at how friendly and happy people are here given that they are unbelievably poor materially by Canadian standards. School uniforms are often full of holes and those students requiring glasses often have old frames from the 1960s that were donated by aid organizations. It is not uncommon to see girls wearing over sized men's aviator frames.

We were also very impressed by the behavior of the students as they were waiting in the school yard for the torch. There was no shouting, running, screaming or fighting. No one was whining. attention seeking or bullying. There were three staff members in charge of about 500 students and if there were behavior issues they were certainly invisible to us.

A form one boy (grade 7) was digging a hole in the centre of the school yard to erect a sign. He was using a two foot long razor sharp machete for the job. I kept thinking that in Canadian schools a student would be suspended for carrying a dull Swiss Army Knife and here was this 13 year old Tanzanian kid digging, entirely appropriately, with a machete. In many Canadian schools nearly every activity requires a special helmet and safety gear and students his age are not given sharp scissors for fear that they will stab someone or cut themselves.

I kept thinking that the Tanzanians have a lot to teach Canadians about school.

Finally the big moment arrived. We could see the dust rising on the road as Toyota 4X4s raced up the hill. The dignitaries, wearing matching Adidas track suits and the soldiers, sporting red berets, were escorting the torch. They set up an honour guard. Speeches were made, ribbons were cut and a meal of rice and bananas was eaten. There was African Drumming, singing and skits put on by the students.

It was a perfect day here in east Africa.

We are Staying with Tessa for Two Weeks Until our House is Ready

We go on a Rough Safari

The bus trip from Morogoro to Kibaya turned out to be a rough safari.  The MJ bus company tickets indicated seats H1/H2 were supposed to be ours and the ETA 1 or 2 o’clock.  However, it turned out to be one of the toughest bus rides of our lives so far.  Honestly, I think that when we get back to Nova Scotia we will take an Acadian Lines bus trip just to experience the luxury of it all.
Waiting around Morogoro bus station for an hour was interesting in itself. The vendors wandering through the crowd offered their wares to us the same as to the locals.  No tough sell here but, had we needed to, we could have outfitted ourselves with everything from luggage to shoes, clothes, radios and food. 
 At 9:00 a.m. a man wearing an MJ bus company tee shirt started running with our bags while calling out, 'mzungu, mzungu' (white person, white person) indicating that we should follow.  We and our luggage were crammed onto an already full dalla dalla (mini-bus) which took off at breakneck speed. Standing in the aisle, bent over like a pretzel and rocking back and forth we wondered, is this our transportation for next five hours?  It was not.
 After an hour at which time we were deposited on the side of the road somewhere beside a tiny village where chickens were scratching in the dirt and vendors were selling water and bananas.  Standing in the blistering sun for an hour we started to wonder, what are we doing here?  Are we even on the correct road to Kibaya? 
Suddenly an MJ bus sped by.  Many people started running after it, shouting and waving.  We joined in the ruckus.   The bus ground to a halt about a quarter of a kilometer away.  Several very helpful Tanzanians grabbed our bags and we rushed to get aboard.
Needless to say, seats H1/H2 were nonexistent.  Once again we crammed into the aisle but the saving grace was that everyone on the bus was friendly and helpful.  Our computer bag was in one man’s lap and another one was being looked after by a kindly young Tanzanian man wearing a Tim Horton’s tee shirt.  It’s a small world isn’t it? 
As more passengers were picked up, it became a struggle just to reach down to get our bottle of water on the floor.  The large sign over the windshield of the bus which read, ‘High Class’ was not reassuring. We braced ourselves for the rest of the ride. 
When the bus broke down we were mistaken in thinking it was just a pit stop.  No!  The driver opened the engine compartment and thick diesel smoke poured out.  We debussed for another wait at the side of the road while people hustled jerry cans of water to replace that which was flooding from the radiator onto the road.  Before long we were on the way again.
When the bus turned right onto a dirt track (it made the West Tatamagouche Road look like a four lane highway) we knew we were only two and a half hours from our destination.   A few passengers got off and more got on. Children were handed over until they reached their mothers but there was very little crying or whining.  A crashed bus on one side of the road was an interesting diversion and we were left thinking, there but for the grace of God…
At 4:30 in the afternoon we arrived at our new home, Kibaya.  Tessa, the VSO mathematics teacher- trainer and Mr. Ndee, the director of the Community Education Resource Center (CERC) were there to give us a warm Tanzanian welcome.
We were tired and dusty and a little worse for wear but happy all the same, especially after an ice cold Mountain Dew, a shower and some food.

We go on a safari

Safari means journey in Swahili. Any journey could technically be considered a safari.  Going to the grocery store for a loaf of bread is a safari.  Our first safari, however was much more eventful.

Fellow volunteers, Margaret and Vanessa assisted by Samantha did all the legwork, which was considerable.  Negotiating a fair deal with safari outfitters is a lot like swimming through a shark tank while bleeding.  The chances of losing your cash or being taken on a bad safari are overwhelming.  Safari touts have refined lying and scamming to a fine art.  However, thanks to the three volunteer safari organizers our operator showed up with two working Land rovers, sufficient enough to navigate dirt tracks, with raised roofs and knowledgeable guides.

Just before the dawn we set out  to Mikumi National Park, a locale which has pretty much guaranteed sightings of wildlife in its over 3,000 square kilometers of wilderness.  The nuns equipped us with enough water and boiled eggs to feed an army.

We saw buffalos, elephants, giraffes, zebras, male baboons (their sex was pretty obvious), crocodiles, impalas, hippos and wildebeests.  At one point an enraged rogue elephant charged at our vehicle and our driver had to gun the engine and pop the clutch for us to escape being tusked to death.

It was at the hippo Pools area that I received the fright of my life from the devious and cunning Vanessa.  I was watching the crocs swim just at the surface of the pond thinking of the film, ‘Crocodile Dundee’ and remembering how Mick Dundee explained how a croc drags its victim below the water and rolls him around until he drowns and then hides him in his meat locker until his dead body is ripe enough to eat.  As I was contemplating the meat locker part of the story Vanessa grabbed by ankle in imitation of a croc.  I would like to say that I reached for my Swiss Army knife to pound the croc through the skull but that was not so.  Karma was on my side, however, as later in the day a monkey shat on Vanessa.

As they say in Swahili, the day was supa safi.

Benji, Kiswahili Mwalimu supa Safi (Super good Swahili teacher)

Get Thee to a Nunnery

We are staying at Amabalis Centre in Morogoro about four hours from Dar es Salaam by bus. We have been here for a few days and will be here until Sunday which will make the experience a week in total. The centre is a quiet and peaceful convent operated by a small group of nuns. They do the job of looking after most of our bodily needs while our teachers, Benji, Asia and Pepi look after our educational needs with intensive Swahili lessons. These lessons will help us to form relationships with the Tanzanians that we meet during our placement in Kibaya. That's the plan anyway.

This morning I took a shirt down to the convent laundry to be washed I gave my room number in Swahili and hope that my pronunciation doesn't sound anything like, 'rip up this shirt and use it as a nest for rats.' So far the clean and freshly ironed shirt has not made an appearance.

Ironing is very important in these parts. Not as an office fashion statement but because the heat of the iron kills the insects which nest in the drying clothes and which later tunnel into one's skin causing great discomfort but probably not immediate death.

The grub is pretty good here at the convent. Breakfast is white bread and fruit jam, instant coffee and if we're lucky an egg. There is usually a slice of watermelon or a banana as well. For our morning break the nuns prepare such delicacies as fried bananas and weiners. It is an unusual combination, I will admit, but one which works quite well. Lunch usually consists of potatoes, chicken or beef and spinach. Supper is basically the same.

The meals are heavy on the starch. Normally there are potatoes and rice with every meal save breakfast and break. By break time my head is usually spinning from trying to concentrate on Swahili verbs and so anything in the way of food comes as a very welcome treat. I am avoiding the bottle of hot sauce on the table for reasons that I will leave to your imagination.

There are fifteen CUSO-VSO Swahili students at the convent. We are divided into three classes of five each. Debbie and I are in the Kwanza class, which means first. Believe me when I say that the name of our class has nothing to do with our abilities in Swahili which, in my case, is not even approaching survival level.

Benji, Asia and Pepi are lively and patient. Trying to drum swahili into my head is not an easy task. I lived in Quebec for about forty years and managed to avoid learning much French so it's a real stretch of even the most fertile imagination to think that my Swahili will ever match that of Shabaan Robert, Tanzania's national poet.