My good buddy Carter Jensen has arrived in Kigoma! I thought it would be a long lonely road for me from this point on – after saying Kwaheri to my girls on July 5th, but now Carter – a good friend from SLC, UT – has arrived! On his first day in town, Carter had to endure a day heavy on the business for Project Wezesha. This was our tick list: open a post office box, open a joint bank account (Lucas and I), register Project Wezesha in Tanzania, meet with the architect for school plans, meet with the Kigoma Ministry of Education, meet with the land officer.
So – why such a crazy list? Some of it was pre-planned and some of it evolved as the day progressed. When the earth moved such that the sun was hidden by the mountains of DRC across the lake, we had accomplished this much: opened a post office box (but need to return for key Monday), met with Ministry of Education and the land officer (but have to return on Monday) and the plans for the school are ready!
Isaya, Lucas’ brother, and his partner Ahamadi are the general contractors for the project. I am lucky to have Lucas as a partner and then just superbly fortunate that his brother is one of the best builders in town! They are efficient and detail oriented at the same time – a rarity here. After seeing that the school project in the neighboring village has only produced one classroom in four years with tens of thousands of dollars worth of donations (big trouble in little Kiganza), I was worried that Tanzania might be a nation within which productivity might just be out of reach. I was soooo happy to see – upon my first return to Mgaraganza village - that they had built two new classrooms on their primary school (in partnership with Jane Goodall Institute and an NGO called Allianz) and a new office building for the village – also donated by Allianz and JGI – since I left one year ago. So, with renewed faith the project moves along.
Before Carter got here – Lucas and I met with Isaya and Ahamadi. I told them that I raised about half of what I had hoped to produce for the project by this summer. With that number in mind, what were the prospects of making something happen? Isaya and his partner ‘shared views’ as Lucas says. It was our first official business meeting about the big project and it took place on a building site – me squatting on a pile of rocks, them leaning on a dirt wall – all shaded by a kind tree. Final verdict – hamna shida, Rai – No problem. The plan is foundation for four classrooms and the walls for one – maybe two classrooms. I am leaving Lucas with a digital camera that my boyfriend Adam donated before I left. Lucas will continue taking pictures and emailing images to me so I can track the progress from home and continue with fundraising. In the meantime, we do have a goal of getting foundation and one classroom up before I go in under 3 weeks time … no complaints here!
Today – Carter, Lucas and I made our way back into Mgaraganza village for our second big business meeting with the Chief and Chair of the village and the 15 or so council members who weigh in on all village decisions. They were so delighted to see that I had returned. A little rumor was spinning that I wasn’t coming back – so when they saw me walking around the other day, they knew I didn’t break my promise. In fact, two days ago, as we wandered through the forest and across the river to the village, every man whose path we crossed asked Lucas, is this the mzungu who is building the school? Then big welcomes came my way, smiles and renewed confidence. I’m so happy to have NOT let them down. Importantly, I was only able to come back and follow through with my promise to help thanks to the amazingly generous donations of so many supporters and friends around the country and world who chipped in for Project Wezesha! Asante Sana and Urakoze Cane to all of you!!!
In today’s meeting we talked about the need for some members of the council and the Chief to go into Kigoma town and pick up where we left off yesterday with the Ministry of Education and the Land Department. They have to verify that the village has donated the land to Project Wezesha for the construction of Amahoro Secondary School. The Ministry of Education told me two days ago that they are happy to have this be a government school. The will contribute as much as they can. For a neighboring secondary school, they built one or two classrooms for every two that the village built. They will do the same for us!! They are also willing to donate the latrines!! Excellent! Government buy in! Just what we needed!!
After our meeting, we were invited back to the wife of my friend Ashahadu for a nice fish and chips lunch. We’re heading back into the village early early in the morning to carry stones and sand with the men and women who have already started working to prepare the land for building. Today, after knowing that I had returned and this was a reality – 30 of them showed up to carry stone and sand this morning! Tomorrow the same – plus two wazungu who are bound and determined to learn how to carry buckets on their heads!!
Friday, July 9, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
Tulienda Kiganza - Visiting the Children
Today we made our way into Kiganza village to visit with my friends – young and old. It was an emotional day for several reasons. Lucas met us in town in the morning and after puttering around a little bit to get some money changed and buy some sunscreen, which we shockingly found in the duka la dawa (pharmacy), we hopped on the dala dala for my first ever ride into the village. In past years, Lucas and I would ride part of the way until the road basically became impassible by cars and the transport cars wouldn’t go further. From that point, we would walk 1.5 hours each way in the blazing sun (uphill both ways). After walking 3 hours a day, eating dust, burning flesh and starving – we would grub down on a full fish and some rice together and I would collapse in the bed. This year, we three spoiled princesses get a ride right up to the Kiganza market – footsteps from the homes of the students Project Wezesha supports and the families I’ve grown to love. From here, it is still a 30 minute walk to Mgaraganza village, but it’s through the shaded forest and across a stream, so who’s complaining!
From our drop off point, we walked along the newly constructed highway. It was remarkable to walk without dust and see how well the village has adapted to the new situation. Lucas told us that everyone is so happy now with the paved road. I think the speed of the cars and the fact that toddlers and animals still wander into the road could be problematic, but so far they’ve had no accidents. Within a block or so of the market, we reached GOSESO, the educational program I worked with three years ago. From that point on it was smiles, handshakes and greetings flying this way and that – Welcome, Welcome; Karibuni, Karibuni! Laura and Hadley received happy hugs and Lucas and I stirred up some very excited faces.
We wandered into the forest to see the new classrooms that were built for the GOSESO program and I was happy to meet two of the baboons that I had spent some time with two summers ago. They jumped all over me … mainly because I welcomed them into my lap. Next thing I know one was hopping up on my shoulder and basically standing on my head – nitpicking through my hair. I reached up and picked him up like an infant and plopped him into my lap. He sat facing me and started trying to remove my moles … more nitpicking. He would go to each mole, pick at it and go to take it to his mouth only to realize he didn’t quite grab it and it wasn't a bug. Some things never change. “Silly monkey.”
We were welcomed into a couple of homes to visit. As is always the case, we were offered the best of what they had to offer. We hate to take, but it’s impossible to not accept their offer when they go out of their way to give you all they have. In one case, we each got a banana and then were offered the chance to take the extras to go. Given that this is a family with 5 children, we urged that they give them to the kids, which they did happily. Everyone commented over and over – “Rai. Nzuri sana. Karibu sana.” Just happy to see me, to know that I do come back as I said I would – year after year. I have such a good feeling this year, knowing I have 3.5 weeks here – so much time compared to last year! So much to do of course, but so much time!
On our way out of GOSESO and to the main road, our aim was the house of my friend Hindu, whom many of you have read about. She is one of the students I sponsor for secondary school, the one whose sister married last year and the one whose father died two years ago, a month after I sat holding his hand as he wasted away on his grass mat in their small home. It was so wonderful to see her lovely smiling face. We sat exchanging greetings, both having too much to say to even know where to start. My Kiswahili became less accessible as I had more thoughts come to mind. Instead of saying much, we just smiled, giggled and held hands. I showed her the album I made for her sister of the wedding last year. She marveled over the pictures, laughing with the memories inspired by each one.
Then, as conversation lulled again – I asked her about her brothers, who I met last year at the wedding. Next thing we knew, there was an intense conversation taking place in Kihaa (their local, tribal language) with many ‘pole sana’s (I’m sorry) from Lucas to Hindu. It didn’t take long for us to figure out that something bad had happened and that most likely someone had died and that even more specifically, a brother. Sure enough, one of her two brothers died this past May in Dar es Salaam. He was studying at an Islamic college in the big city. Tragically, he was riding his motorcycle in the city and lost an unfair battle with a car in an accident that claimed his life. Hindu was crying into her scarf, I was rubbing her back while blinking away tears and Lucas was asking the other two men sitting with us about the situation. Her brother was a kind soul who always took the time to visit everyone when he came home to the village on breaks. In the collection of pictures I gave to Hindu, one lovely picture captured her brother – alive and smiling on a day of such happiness for their family as Amina got married. It might be the only picture they have of him.
Shortly thereafter, when the time was right, I gave Hindu a card from John Cederquist in SLC, Utah who met her on his visit two years ago. She was delighted about the message and happy to have some monetary support to help her family. I also gave her an English language learning text that I bought in Dar es Salaam so she can keep working on her reading and grammar leading up to her final year in secondary school which begins in January.
Next, with Hindu in tow, we made our way across the street to Saidi’s house. I love this family! Saidi, along with his sister Zainabu and his brother Musa, will all be rounding the bend in primary school this year and next. All three of them will enter the Project Wezesha scholarship program and I am so proud to involve them. They have this wonderful drive to learn, to read, to speak and to do something big with their lives. They are also remarkably gentle and kind (two adjectives I love to use about good people, but it’s true!). When the other kids are tripping over each other, pushing and tearing at each others’ clothes to grab pencils from my hand, these children in the Sadicki family stand to the side, puzzling over the bad behavior of the other children. They are just polite, gracious and thoughtful – unique at any age, exceptional at ages 11, 12 and 13 respectively and even more impressive given the examples set by many of their peers. We sat with this family for a while among the chickens, children and elders. We talked about books, about school, about family, about my friends and about my timeline. Then, Laura gave them a frisbee she brought from Spain. We showed them how to throw it and left them playing while we made our way out.
At the dala dala stop near the market, who should appear in the last minutes before we made our way to Kigoma? – None other than Dibeit, another of my beloved young friends. I don’t like to have favorites but I’ll just say it – Hindu, Saidi and Dibeit … top three!! I think of all the students we support through our scholarship program, these three are the most devoted, inquisitive, gentle, grateful, humble, loving and hopeful. I will make sure that each of them – if willing – will have support through high school and university if they so choose to take that long route. I know they will become something…. I just feel it!
Anyway – our visit with Dibeit was quick, but fabulous. His smile fills my heart. Unfortunately, when I asked about his younger twin siblings, I found out that one twin died last year of complications in the chest. He had a hard time finding the vocabulary to describe what happened, but he smiled sorrowfully as he said ‘thank you’ in response to my ‘pole sana’. I promised my return on Tuesday after Hadley and Laura return to Dar es Salaam. I’m excited to sit still for a long time, enjoying the kids, reading, playing, singing, dancing and being with them.
Of course, at the end of a long day - our famous painter, Hadley Rampton, still has time to bang out a quick water color of the Lake Tanganyika sunset over the DRC mountains... hamna shida.... all in a day's work.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Interview with Hadley and Laura
I asked Laura and Hadley some questions on the veranda of our hotel the night before they left. Emotions soared as they thought back on some of their experiences.
You’ve been in the city, the beach, the small town and the village. Which do you prefer and why?
L: I don’t like the big city at all. Zanzibar is good for tourism. I felt relaxed there and wanted to go to the beach. I liked the atmosphere. It’s touristy so if you’re looking for that, it’s good. If you’re looking for life experience and something deeper, then being here(in Kigoma) is the thing.
H: I would say that Dar was not my favorite place, but I’m glad that I experienced it because it let me see kind of the sad state of affairs of the reality of things here. That people would be coming from villages to Dar looking for a better life only to find more desperation is unfortunate. Zanzibar was a nice touristy respite, but it did feel touristy and didn’t feel as real. And now that we’re in the villages the landscape is incredibly beautiful and while the people are probably just as poor as they were in Dar, there is more warmth and there is more friendliness. It makes me sad that people would leave the villages where there is still warmth and love to go to a place like Dar where the desperation is that much more evident. Overall, I would say that I’m enjoying my experience in Kigoma and surrounding villages the most because it feels the most real to me and I am enjoying connecting with the people on a more personal basis.
What are your impressions of the people in Tanzania?
H: Overall they’re incredibly warm people and beautiful. But they are very much in need. In a place like Dar, the constant pressure to give money can be overwhelming. Here in Kigoma they are still very much in need but they’re much more open and they have so much love and fun in their hearts. They love being your friend. It’s so fun to see how much they love Rai. I understand why Rai wants to keep coming back because the friendships you form here are everlasting.
L: Dar is a big city and as such it’s more impersonal. People there just approach you to ask for something. It’s not a real connection. They know you are there passing by and they don’t bother to get to know you. Zanzibar – the experience with the woman who runs the hotel was nice. If you’re a tourist in the city, you’re not going to get to know anyone unless you’re there for a while. But at the hotel, it was nice to spend time with the owner and her baby and the guy helping us with the cat. They are warm … shy, but warm. Here in the villages, even if they are in need, and they ask for things, they offer you what they have. Which is very little. To see the eagerness they have to learn, meet people, know about others’ lives and learn from your life to make theirs better, it’s just great.
What do you think about opportunities here?
L: Very little. Too many people wanting to try and not so many opportunities for them. There is also a big difference in opportunity between that for men and women.
H: I agree with Laura. Very little opportunity. They want to learn. They want a better life and they want better prospects for their country, but it’s so difficult for them. They have so many obstacles. In contrast to American children, they desire so much to learn… they try so hard to learn and so value education; if only American children could see how lucky they are.
What will you remember most? Your favorite memory?
H: I would have to say, visiting Lucas’ family and seeing how little they have and how much they want to give. Stan and Maiko ( Lucas’ neighbor and brother) wanted to know why the US is so strong and so powerful and TZ is not. I entered into a discussion with them about our government, about how a key feature in our government includes our freedoms and our government’s ability to regulate corporations such that our country as a whole is strengthened by our resources, whereas here resources are being stripped, leaving the people with no profit from the resources. Sometimes, I thought maybe I was losing them in the conversation but they continued asking challenging follow-up questions, wanting more knowledge. I could see that if people like this who have so little and are clearly so bright could receive the education that they desire, there could be hope that TZ and all of Africa could be stronger and less impoverished. So while I was given hope by talking with them, it also made me sad that they continue to be held back by corruption and the lack of money for the education sector.
L: The two young guys asking those questions was amazing, but also seeing the children in the village – how well they speak English compared to our children in Spain who have so many more opportunities and they don’t take advantage of them. (Laura pauses and tears up). It’s so much… it’s not just one thing.
What made you feel uncomfortable or maybe disillusioned?
L: We were waiting for the dala dala to go back to town. When it stopped there was no room to get in. I don’t know how it happened but they made four women get out so we could fit in. We thought they were making them stay to wait for another bus to come. That would have been really bad. We wouldn’t have gotten into the bus if they had done that. Still – being able to sit down where they had been sitting was bad. Then after a while, I asked a girl to sit next to me and Lucas – who is a very nice guy – educated and what not – asked her to get up. I didn’t like that at all. I don’t like the feeling that maybe they think that we are superior because we come from another country. I just hate that because we are all the same. It just pissed me off so bad and it almost ruined my experience of the whole day. I thought, after such a great day, it can’t end like this – please! Hopefully by me asking the girl to sit by me, she knew I saw us as equal.
What would be your favorite story to tell about this safari of yours?
L: Playing with Felipo’s daughter was great. Even though we couldn’t say much to each other, we communicated.
H: Meeting Hindu. I love seeing all the children being educated, but especially knowing that it’s so important to educate women. Although she was initially so shy we came to find out that she is very smart and knows English quite well. Listening to her read from the text in English – I was blown away. There were some big words in there. Even though she was so shy, she wanted to keep reading. She has a hard life – she lost her dad two years ago, she just lost her brother this year. And yet she is pushing forward with her education. It gives me some hope for the women here. She is an incredible young women and it gave me hope.
L: She asked us when we were coming back to see her again, and that about broke my heart. (Laura and Hadley are both crying now!)
Saturday, July 3, 2010
"Nitarudi" I said, and return I did!
We arrived in Kigoma at long last! We experienced the bustle of the big city, the tourist trap of Zanzibar, Indian Ocean and a lot of surface interactions - but now we are here. We are here - where relationships with the people I know are real and deep.
Lucas, my friend and partner in Project Wezesha, greeted us at the airport and escorted us up to the place I'll call home this month. We enjoyed some introductions, catch up conversation, important updates and the glorious view of Lake Tanganyika. Hadley was psyched to finally meet the young man I've been referencing all these months leading up to this trip. Of course he won Laura and Hadley over instantly with his smile. They could feel what I feel - Lucas is awesome. He's trustworthy, gentle, kind, protective, funny and sharp.
After cooling off a bit and chatting above the treetops, we eased our way into Kigoma town for a little recon of the area. Kigoma had some changes that were exciting for me - such as a new place to eat and some new dala dalas (the transport minibuses) - ahh, the simple pleasures. There were also so great developments for the community, such as a huge new power station to replace the old one that often left the town without power randomly every day. The new station was installed by a German company and it is celebrated by Kigoma.
On the flip side, much is the same. People are far more interested in us here than in Dar. Especially the children. They migrate to our side of the street many meters ahead of us so that by the time we're passing they can get a good look and at the very last possible minute throw a shy "Good morning madam" our way only to cover their mouths, suppressing smiles and giggles as they run off in their flip flops to talk about how brave they had been ... or how funny we look with our red cheeks and hairy arms. As we make our way through town, we are inevitably walking quicker than most. We pass everyone - from the old man in tattered clothes leaning over his big walking stick, barefoot and donning an old fedora to the three weathered women, kangas tied around their wastes, small loads on their heads, laughing to one another in their conversation until our passage silences them temporarily - only to resume as soon as we're out of earshot. Of course, Lucas greets folks along the way - laughs at some comments about his new friends, the 'wazungu' (white folks).
There have been some changes that I've noticed - so small and insignificant that Lucas laughs when I ask about them. For example, the women who sell small fish from plastic basins along the side of the road - all huddled together in a rainbow of kangas and scarves, squatting next to their basins, all in flip flops and chomping on sugar cane - well, they've moved up the road and to the other side. After seeing them in the same place, day after day for the past two years, this was notable to me. Lucas said they decided to move closer to the market where people are already in buying mode. Of course, why didn't they think of that two years ago or sooner .... who knows, but they did it now and they seem content.
The other small change was the metal manipulators. There is a big group of men who sat under a group of trees hammering away at various metal sources - pots, pans, cans, car parts - shaping them into new materials such as lanterns, new pots, new car parts, bike parts, etc. It's always struck me as so resourceful the way they reshape old metal in such a rudimentary fashion for reuse in important and helpful ways. Well, they have moved. Their absence was almost disappointing to me and I was comforted to know they hadn't quick their trade but simply moved closer to the metal section of the Mwanga market (pictured below). Why didn't they think of that two years ago or sooner ... who knows, but ...
Ahh... pressures of traveling with others, needing to visit the village and children (today!) and slow computers have all put a stall mode on my blogging ... but I'll catch up soon with pics to fill in old and new gaps. Until then, we're off to Kiganza to see the children that I miss so much! Kwaheri!
Lucas, my friend and partner in Project Wezesha, greeted us at the airport and escorted us up to the place I'll call home this month. We enjoyed some introductions, catch up conversation, important updates and the glorious view of Lake Tanganyika. Hadley was psyched to finally meet the young man I've been referencing all these months leading up to this trip. Of course he won Laura and Hadley over instantly with his smile. They could feel what I feel - Lucas is awesome. He's trustworthy, gentle, kind, protective, funny and sharp.
After cooling off a bit and chatting above the treetops, we eased our way into Kigoma town for a little recon of the area. Kigoma had some changes that were exciting for me - such as a new place to eat and some new dala dalas (the transport minibuses) - ahh, the simple pleasures. There were also so great developments for the community, such as a huge new power station to replace the old one that often left the town without power randomly every day. The new station was installed by a German company and it is celebrated by Kigoma.
On the flip side, much is the same. People are far more interested in us here than in Dar. Especially the children. They migrate to our side of the street many meters ahead of us so that by the time we're passing they can get a good look and at the very last possible minute throw a shy "Good morning madam" our way only to cover their mouths, suppressing smiles and giggles as they run off in their flip flops to talk about how brave they had been ... or how funny we look with our red cheeks and hairy arms. As we make our way through town, we are inevitably walking quicker than most. We pass everyone - from the old man in tattered clothes leaning over his big walking stick, barefoot and donning an old fedora to the three weathered women, kangas tied around their wastes, small loads on their heads, laughing to one another in their conversation until our passage silences them temporarily - only to resume as soon as we're out of earshot. Of course, Lucas greets folks along the way - laughs at some comments about his new friends, the 'wazungu' (white folks).
There have been some changes that I've noticed - so small and insignificant that Lucas laughs when I ask about them. For example, the women who sell small fish from plastic basins along the side of the road - all huddled together in a rainbow of kangas and scarves, squatting next to their basins, all in flip flops and chomping on sugar cane - well, they've moved up the road and to the other side. After seeing them in the same place, day after day for the past two years, this was notable to me. Lucas said they decided to move closer to the market where people are already in buying mode. Of course, why didn't they think of that two years ago or sooner .... who knows, but they did it now and they seem content.
The other small change was the metal manipulators. There is a big group of men who sat under a group of trees hammering away at various metal sources - pots, pans, cans, car parts - shaping them into new materials such as lanterns, new pots, new car parts, bike parts, etc. It's always struck me as so resourceful the way they reshape old metal in such a rudimentary fashion for reuse in important and helpful ways. Well, they have moved. Their absence was almost disappointing to me and I was comforted to know they hadn't quick their trade but simply moved closer to the metal section of the Mwanga market (pictured below). Why didn't they think of that two years ago or sooner ... who knows, but ...
Ahh... pressures of traveling with others, needing to visit the village and children (today!) and slow computers have all put a stall mode on my blogging ... but I'll catch up soon with pics to fill in old and new gaps. Until then, we're off to Kiganza to see the children that I miss so much! Kwaheri!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Humanitarians Spring for a Kitten
Late one night on the island of Zanzibar, Laura, Hadley and I were returning from a triumphant match between Spain and Portugal, which we enjoyed from Mercury's Bar - so named because Freddy Mercury was born here ... or some history along those lines. Triumphant because Laura is from Spain - so of course, Villa Maravilla, Venga and other Spanish cheers were leaving our table with more volume than most in the bar expected from a group of seemingly mature women and wazungu at that. Way to go Spain!!
Back to my story... We were returning from the match around midnight and we were only steps from our hostel's entry way when the high pitch cries of youth in distress whipped my head to the side and down where I spotted the tiniest of tiny kittens, wailing away and all alone. I scooped it up and it fit easily in the palm of my hand - its eyes weepy, orange coat soiled and whiskers curly from having been burned away at the ends. Of course, the three of us began cooing as women do around baby animals and baby humans - a cooing which quickly turned to moaning about how we could help this animal, after midnight, just outside our hotel with no information about where its mother might be.
The young boy working the hostel came to the door and smiled to see the suckers standing outside with the baby in their hands. His smile became a sympathetic laugh accompanied by a shake of the head. He knew our type. We asked about the kitten's mother, found out she had died and that the little one was left to live in the "garden" which was a dirt path wound between closely set buildings. I asked if he would give us some milk from the fridge upstairs and he reluctantly agreed to give us a cup full. With the bottle cap, I led the little nose to nutrients and it started wailing even more frantically, trying to find the source - but all the while continuing to suckle my index finger and arm ... desperate for something to come out. After a little teamwork, the little kitten and I managed to combine his attempt to suckle the plastic cap and my attempt to tip the right amount his way until next thing we knew, he was sipping down two cap fulls.
With a very reluctant farewell, we set him down and wished him well - off we went to bed. We talked about the realities of the island and life in general in many parts of Tanzania - the luxury we have to invest so much in the welfare of animals whereas many of the people here are just trying to put food in their own stomachs... but I can't let them off that easily when I see the wealth that does creep in here and there - more can be done for both humans and animals if the intention is strong enough.
The next morning, I was hoping sleep would have erased my thoughts of the kitten ... but of course, he was first on my mind. It was lashing rain and the dirtways between buildings were small streams - muddied and empty of people, of animals - no kitten in sight. We went up to our rooftop for breakfast and just as we finished our coffee, Laura heard the cries. I lept up and ran down three flights to the dirt below and poked around until the cries pulled me in their direction. Our little buddy was like a minnow in the ocean - so small in the big world, soaked to the bones and starving. I scooped him up, ran him to the rooftop and dried him with napkins. He cried for a minute and then burrowed his head between my knees, into my skirt and passed out - exhausted from fighting for his life.
It was our last day on the island and we were leaving in a matter of hours. I began searching the oracle - Google.com - for an animal welfare society on the island. I came across a seemingly (and ultimately) amazing organization named ZAASO - Zanzibar Animals Affection Society - run by a woman named Ana (Dutch, I think?). We hired a taxi and scooped our little Prince (his given name) into a taxi. After 20 minutes, we arrived at Zanzibari animal heaven and turned our baby over into the hands of Dr. Ramadan and his crew. The sanctuary had donkeys, dogs, cattle and goats that had been rescued and treated for a host of ailments from bush knife wound to collapse by overload ... We reloaded our taxi smiling, breathing easier and knowing our little Prince would grow to fight for life as a strong adult on the streets ... or perhaps better - he would become part of the family at the sactuary.
Back to my story... We were returning from the match around midnight and we were only steps from our hostel's entry way when the high pitch cries of youth in distress whipped my head to the side and down where I spotted the tiniest of tiny kittens, wailing away and all alone. I scooped it up and it fit easily in the palm of my hand - its eyes weepy, orange coat soiled and whiskers curly from having been burned away at the ends. Of course, the three of us began cooing as women do around baby animals and baby humans - a cooing which quickly turned to moaning about how we could help this animal, after midnight, just outside our hotel with no information about where its mother might be.
The young boy working the hostel came to the door and smiled to see the suckers standing outside with the baby in their hands. His smile became a sympathetic laugh accompanied by a shake of the head. He knew our type. We asked about the kitten's mother, found out she had died and that the little one was left to live in the "garden" which was a dirt path wound between closely set buildings. I asked if he would give us some milk from the fridge upstairs and he reluctantly agreed to give us a cup full. With the bottle cap, I led the little nose to nutrients and it started wailing even more frantically, trying to find the source - but all the while continuing to suckle my index finger and arm ... desperate for something to come out. After a little teamwork, the little kitten and I managed to combine his attempt to suckle the plastic cap and my attempt to tip the right amount his way until next thing we knew, he was sipping down two cap fulls.
With a very reluctant farewell, we set him down and wished him well - off we went to bed. We talked about the realities of the island and life in general in many parts of Tanzania - the luxury we have to invest so much in the welfare of animals whereas many of the people here are just trying to put food in their own stomachs... but I can't let them off that easily when I see the wealth that does creep in here and there - more can be done for both humans and animals if the intention is strong enough.
The next morning, I was hoping sleep would have erased my thoughts of the kitten ... but of course, he was first on my mind. It was lashing rain and the dirtways between buildings were small streams - muddied and empty of people, of animals - no kitten in sight. We went up to our rooftop for breakfast and just as we finished our coffee, Laura heard the cries. I lept up and ran down three flights to the dirt below and poked around until the cries pulled me in their direction. Our little buddy was like a minnow in the ocean - so small in the big world, soaked to the bones and starving. I scooped him up, ran him to the rooftop and dried him with napkins. He cried for a minute and then burrowed his head between my knees, into my skirt and passed out - exhausted from fighting for his life.
It was our last day on the island and we were leaving in a matter of hours. I began searching the oracle - Google.com - for an animal welfare society on the island. I came across a seemingly (and ultimately) amazing organization named ZAASO - Zanzibar Animals Affection Society - run by a woman named Ana (Dutch, I think?). We hired a taxi and scooped our little Prince (his given name) into a taxi. After 20 minutes, we arrived at Zanzibari animal heaven and turned our baby over into the hands of Dr. Ramadan and his crew. The sanctuary had donkeys, dogs, cattle and goats that had been rescued and treated for a host of ailments from bush knife wound to collapse by overload ... We reloaded our taxi smiling, breathing easier and knowing our little Prince would grow to fight for life as a strong adult on the streets ... or perhaps better - he would become part of the family at the sactuary.
It's the Age of Malaria
It’s the age of Aquarius, age of Aquariuh-us … Aquarius! Get that song in your head and then substitute Malaria for Aquarius and you have the latest catchy tune that I’ve been singing lately (along with ‘Sweaty Crack’ sang to the famous Pheobe classic ‘Smelly Cat’ from the hit TV show Friends – TMI?) . Malaria… Malaria. Fortunately, it’s not because any of us have Malaria right now, but we’ve sure been joking enough about the day when, not if, one of us is diagnosed. Luckily – we know exactly the drug to take if we get it … Coartem. Recommended to us by our pal David, the American writer in Dar – who has had malaria 7 times in his life, including during the week we met him. In fact, it will be David that we blame when we are diagnosed as it was his idea to take us out for a drink at a bar in Dar that led to our demise (kidding, David – but it is your fault! haha)
So, we were just finished with our Malai Kofta and Vegetable Biriani (hostel is run by Indians) when the seats were being cleared out from under us – or so it felt – that we decided to move on… too early to go to bed but with limited options for a place to grab a glass of wine or a beer, David suggested a bar he knew of – an outdoor bar. We were hopeful and excited as we’d looked for a drink a few times prior only to find that most places don’t serve alcohol. We strolled out of the bustle and into a little side alley – very much an alley with a dead end at a dive bar with an enormous drop down screen showing a World Cup match between Mexico and Argentina. Los Africanos in the bar were all cheering for Argentina. We were cheering for Mexico, but really doing a lot more talking that watching.
As we sat and settled in, I was urged to pull my feet up under me by the sight of a healthy rat scurrying down the wall opposite me and into an open window in that neighboring building … too bad for those tenants. Luckily for them, their visitor came and went with enough frequency to give them some privacy. Eww! Conversation flowed quite nicely for a couple of hours, interrupted only by Argentina goals for which the rest of the bar assaulted us with bubucetas – those annoying horn toys that soccer fans love to blow.
Later that night in our room, Hadley freaked out when she looked down at her legs and realized she had served as the local fare that evening for the entire mosquito population of Dar es Salaam. The next day, upon inspection we discovered that Hadley had become similar in skin design to a Dr. Seuss character – someone do tell me which I might be thinking of.
When I took the picture of her little legs and froggy feet we burst out laughing – quite the image. Then, that night when I took a shower, we discovered that there were two types of mosquitoes at that bar in Dar – those that prefer chicken bones and those that prefer the fat of the bacon. My white buns were speckled with over 20 red spots – mosquito bites all over! To each his own as Hadley and I would carry the evidence. In all seriousness, she is on the Cadillac of Malaria meds and I am on the thrift store variety antibiotic prophylactic so we should hopefully be ok – but our meds will certainly be put to the test.
So, we were just finished with our Malai Kofta and Vegetable Biriani (hostel is run by Indians) when the seats were being cleared out from under us – or so it felt – that we decided to move on… too early to go to bed but with limited options for a place to grab a glass of wine or a beer, David suggested a bar he knew of – an outdoor bar. We were hopeful and excited as we’d looked for a drink a few times prior only to find that most places don’t serve alcohol. We strolled out of the bustle and into a little side alley – very much an alley with a dead end at a dive bar with an enormous drop down screen showing a World Cup match between Mexico and Argentina. Los Africanos in the bar were all cheering for Argentina. We were cheering for Mexico, but really doing a lot more talking that watching.
As we sat and settled in, I was urged to pull my feet up under me by the sight of a healthy rat scurrying down the wall opposite me and into an open window in that neighboring building … too bad for those tenants. Luckily for them, their visitor came and went with enough frequency to give them some privacy. Eww! Conversation flowed quite nicely for a couple of hours, interrupted only by Argentina goals for which the rest of the bar assaulted us with bubucetas – those annoying horn toys that soccer fans love to blow.
Later that night in our room, Hadley freaked out when she looked down at her legs and realized she had served as the local fare that evening for the entire mosquito population of Dar es Salaam. The next day, upon inspection we discovered that Hadley had become similar in skin design to a Dr. Seuss character – someone do tell me which I might be thinking of.
When I took the picture of her little legs and froggy feet we burst out laughing – quite the image. Then, that night when I took a shower, we discovered that there were two types of mosquitoes at that bar in Dar – those that prefer chicken bones and those that prefer the fat of the bacon. My white buns were speckled with over 20 red spots – mosquito bites all over! To each his own as Hadley and I would carry the evidence. In all seriousness, she is on the Cadillac of Malaria meds and I am on the thrift store variety antibiotic prophylactic so we should hopefully be ok – but our meds will certainly be put to the test.
Monday, June 28, 2010
US-Ireland-Italy-Egypt-Tanzania
This summer I have the great fortune of traveling with friends. Coming to Tanzania alone last summer was an adventure and made for some entertaining blog entries (I’m told) but it also made for mental exhaustion and some loneliness. This year, at this point, I am in the great company of Laura Fombona from Spain and Hadley Rampton from Salt Lake City, UT. Soon, I’ll be joined by Carter Jensen of Salt Lake City – if he continues to survive his many adventures … sleeping with hippos, rafting the Nile and climbing Mt. Kenya.
Summer 2010 - The journey began on June 19th with Hadley and I embarking a midnight flight from Salt Lake City. We spent the following day in Manhattan – walking around the upper East side, taking a stroll in Central Park, enjoying organic goodies in a café on Lexington Ave and journeying back to the airport via taxi and subway – an adventure in itself in NYC. That night, we took another midnight flight that dropped us into Dublin, Ireland at 10am. We got a car and drove south to my cousins in Wicklow where we strolled along the harbor, enjoyed a cappuccino at the end of “main street” in Wicklow town and then rounded off the family home evening with two bottles of delicious red wine, stories, laughs and rosy cheeks.
The next day, after sleeping in much later than planned – Hadley and I set off in our little Twingo for Galway on the West coast of Ireland. Three hours after departure, we arrived and enjoyed meandering along the restaurant-packed, cobblestone promenade through the center – dodging over-priced options by diving into a small side street for fabulous Indian food. After filling up in Galway, we hopped back in the car and drove an hour and a half south to the Burren mountains and the Cliffs of Moher.
We took several pictures from the point and then planned to stretch our legs by walking along the cliffs – only to be sent back in our tracks by signs warning of ‘death by wind’ that has apparently taken its fair share of people into the sea below. There were also signs that read: Need someone to talk to? … followed by a toll free number …. Woah! So, out of respect for those who have lost their lives on the cliff (that’s what the sign asked of us) we decided not to hop over the short stone barrier and onto the well-worn path.
Being 9pm, having nowhere to sleep and approaching our 4am check in time in Dublin, we decided to just drive through the night, back to the East coast.
We stopped into a wee pub in a wee town for a wee cup of coffee on our way back across the wee island to the capital. The men – ranging in age from 18 to 80 – were bellied up at the bar, sipping their pints and puzzling over the two odd birds at the bar drinking coffee and talking with funny accents. Meanwhile, we couldn’t tell if they were speaking in English or Irish … Later, in Dublin, we walked along the River Liffey and spotted (as in “we gotcha if you fall”) young girls as they stumbled out of bars and off their high heels into more cobblestone streets surrounding Temple Bar… there was sure to be some trouble for someone in these early morning hours, but we sensible wise 'older' women would be enjoying hummus and falafel in a sober spot letting the drunks be drunks and the innocent become less so.
Don’t go yet – we’re still en route to Africa! From Dublin, we took a short flight to Rome, Italy. We arrived in the morning, took a bus to the Termini terminal and a metro to the station closest to our B&B. We arrived in time for a nap, followed by Cuatro Formaggio pizza under the light of the Coliseum. We slept long and hard that night, not stirring for a single moped or gladiator singing Juliet up to our fourth floor window … ok, there were no gladiators – but we would have ignored them if they had come. The next morning, we blew it a bit … left our trip to the airport a bit late and found ourselves taking subway and train to the airport, arriving wet from sweat, hot with panic and last to our gate … to find (thankfully) that our flight was departing 30 minutes late! Phew!! After one uneventful stop-over in Cairo for a snack and a glimpse of the Japan-Denmark World Cup match, we were on our way to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania!!! At long last …
We arrived to Dar in the early early morning and my favorite little hotel had sent a driver as planned – seeing him with my name on little sign and greeting him with a light, bright “Mambo” reminded me what I’ve been looking forward to in these past weeks. Ahhh, Tanzania! Our first day in the country, Hadley and I … well, we slept … all day! We were absolutely exhausted from our world travels thus far. Our batteries needed recharging lest we catch malaria just from the sight of a mosquito due to our tired little bodies’ inability to even think about fighting back. Once in the sleep marathon, I asked Hadley - "Is it ok that we haven't eaten or had a drink of water in 14 hours? Are we just lying here dying?" I was delirous of course.
After sleeping for about 20+ hours with a waking moment here and there, we were ready for our African adventures! Dar es Salaam, the city from which all government goings-on take place, but which is actually not the capital (Dodoma is – news to me!), is a joy and a pain. It was so similar to the past two years I’ve been here – but I’ve heard things are taking a turn for the worse with the rich getting richer and the poor … yes, you can finish that sentence. There are many street people – adults and children, many of whom come in from villages to find something better only to be greeted by the sidewalk. Street vending has been cut off (made illegal) and most businesses are run by Arab and Indian Tanzanians, leaving many of the black Tanzanians to work for them. I won’t be here long enough to make a study, but it seems grim and only to become more grim - and I had a good reference point for these perspectives found in the tales of a young American writer we met who is in Dar refining his novel on the 2000 TZ elections.
On our second day in Dar, our friend Laura arrived from Spain. Our adventures in Dar mainly consisted of logistics. We found out that a flight to Kigoma would not be possible until July 1st, which is at least 3 days later than I was hoping – but flights are full. In the meantime, we decided to make our way over to Zanzibar to putter around stone town, take in the sea breeze and sandy beaches - if only with our eyes and toes. We’ve enjoyed more delectable Indian food, some tasty spiced coffee, another World Cup match here and there and a close call with sea sickness. Right now, I’m writing from the roof-top terrace of our off-the-beaten-path hostel, the hum of a generator accompanying my view of the rising full moon along with the voices of fish sellers in the evening market up the road. Brazil is currently crushing Chile and with every goal, the entire island of Zanzibar erupts with yells and horn blows traveling from coast to coast. The breeze is amazing and for the first time all day, my neck is dry and my eyes are heavy.
We’re all very excited to get to Kigoma and then on to the villages to see the children that anticipate our arrival, to brainstorm and strategize with the village council, and to put the fundraising dollars in motion - and of course, to share these important development stages of the summer project with everyone who's invested so much in Project Wezesha.
Summer 2010 - The journey began on June 19th with Hadley and I embarking a midnight flight from Salt Lake City. We spent the following day in Manhattan – walking around the upper East side, taking a stroll in Central Park, enjoying organic goodies in a café on Lexington Ave and journeying back to the airport via taxi and subway – an adventure in itself in NYC. That night, we took another midnight flight that dropped us into Dublin, Ireland at 10am. We got a car and drove south to my cousins in Wicklow where we strolled along the harbor, enjoyed a cappuccino at the end of “main street” in Wicklow town and then rounded off the family home evening with two bottles of delicious red wine, stories, laughs and rosy cheeks.
The next day, after sleeping in much later than planned – Hadley and I set off in our little Twingo for Galway on the West coast of Ireland. Three hours after departure, we arrived and enjoyed meandering along the restaurant-packed, cobblestone promenade through the center – dodging over-priced options by diving into a small side street for fabulous Indian food. After filling up in Galway, we hopped back in the car and drove an hour and a half south to the Burren mountains and the Cliffs of Moher.
We took several pictures from the point and then planned to stretch our legs by walking along the cliffs – only to be sent back in our tracks by signs warning of ‘death by wind’ that has apparently taken its fair share of people into the sea below. There were also signs that read: Need someone to talk to? … followed by a toll free number …. Woah! So, out of respect for those who have lost their lives on the cliff (that’s what the sign asked of us) we decided not to hop over the short stone barrier and onto the well-worn path.
Being 9pm, having nowhere to sleep and approaching our 4am check in time in Dublin, we decided to just drive through the night, back to the East coast.
We stopped into a wee pub in a wee town for a wee cup of coffee on our way back across the wee island to the capital. The men – ranging in age from 18 to 80 – were bellied up at the bar, sipping their pints and puzzling over the two odd birds at the bar drinking coffee and talking with funny accents. Meanwhile, we couldn’t tell if they were speaking in English or Irish … Later, in Dublin, we walked along the River Liffey and spotted (as in “we gotcha if you fall”) young girls as they stumbled out of bars and off their high heels into more cobblestone streets surrounding Temple Bar… there was sure to be some trouble for someone in these early morning hours, but we sensible wise 'older' women would be enjoying hummus and falafel in a sober spot letting the drunks be drunks and the innocent become less so.
Don’t go yet – we’re still en route to Africa! From Dublin, we took a short flight to Rome, Italy. We arrived in the morning, took a bus to the Termini terminal and a metro to the station closest to our B&B. We arrived in time for a nap, followed by Cuatro Formaggio pizza under the light of the Coliseum. We slept long and hard that night, not stirring for a single moped or gladiator singing Juliet up to our fourth floor window … ok, there were no gladiators – but we would have ignored them if they had come. The next morning, we blew it a bit … left our trip to the airport a bit late and found ourselves taking subway and train to the airport, arriving wet from sweat, hot with panic and last to our gate … to find (thankfully) that our flight was departing 30 minutes late! Phew!! After one uneventful stop-over in Cairo for a snack and a glimpse of the Japan-Denmark World Cup match, we were on our way to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania!!! At long last …
We arrived to Dar in the early early morning and my favorite little hotel had sent a driver as planned – seeing him with my name on little sign and greeting him with a light, bright “Mambo” reminded me what I’ve been looking forward to in these past weeks. Ahhh, Tanzania! Our first day in the country, Hadley and I … well, we slept … all day! We were absolutely exhausted from our world travels thus far. Our batteries needed recharging lest we catch malaria just from the sight of a mosquito due to our tired little bodies’ inability to even think about fighting back. Once in the sleep marathon, I asked Hadley - "Is it ok that we haven't eaten or had a drink of water in 14 hours? Are we just lying here dying?" I was delirous of course.
After sleeping for about 20+ hours with a waking moment here and there, we were ready for our African adventures! Dar es Salaam, the city from which all government goings-on take place, but which is actually not the capital (Dodoma is – news to me!), is a joy and a pain. It was so similar to the past two years I’ve been here – but I’ve heard things are taking a turn for the worse with the rich getting richer and the poor … yes, you can finish that sentence. There are many street people – adults and children, many of whom come in from villages to find something better only to be greeted by the sidewalk. Street vending has been cut off (made illegal) and most businesses are run by Arab and Indian Tanzanians, leaving many of the black Tanzanians to work for them. I won’t be here long enough to make a study, but it seems grim and only to become more grim - and I had a good reference point for these perspectives found in the tales of a young American writer we met who is in Dar refining his novel on the 2000 TZ elections.
On our second day in Dar, our friend Laura arrived from Spain. Our adventures in Dar mainly consisted of logistics. We found out that a flight to Kigoma would not be possible until July 1st, which is at least 3 days later than I was hoping – but flights are full. In the meantime, we decided to make our way over to Zanzibar to putter around stone town, take in the sea breeze and sandy beaches - if only with our eyes and toes. We’ve enjoyed more delectable Indian food, some tasty spiced coffee, another World Cup match here and there and a close call with sea sickness. Right now, I’m writing from the roof-top terrace of our off-the-beaten-path hostel, the hum of a generator accompanying my view of the rising full moon along with the voices of fish sellers in the evening market up the road. Brazil is currently crushing Chile and with every goal, the entire island of Zanzibar erupts with yells and horn blows traveling from coast to coast. The breeze is amazing and for the first time all day, my neck is dry and my eyes are heavy.
We’re all very excited to get to Kigoma and then on to the villages to see the children that anticipate our arrival, to brainstorm and strategize with the village council, and to put the fundraising dollars in motion - and of course, to share these important development stages of the summer project with everyone who's invested so much in Project Wezesha.
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