Yesterday, we had our final in Kiswahili. I was merrily translating sentences into future tense and deciding the correct usage of Amba- (roughly translates as who, whom, that or which), when i heard it - the unmistakable screech on small primates. We have monkeys all over campus. They dig in the rubbish bins, try to steal your lunch and laundry and screech at all hours of the waking dawn. During our exam, they little critters were having monkey Olympics in the tree just outside of the window. The windows here aren't solid panes. They are slats that can be opened to let in more air. Well, some of them are missing small panes like the on e by my desk. More than once I looked in the window sill after hearing a thud to see small black fingers and a little monkey face looking at me. It was slightly unnerving. If he had jumped through the window, he would have been in my lap. The window in the back of the room is missing even more panes. A monkey jumped in and sat at a desk in the back of the room. For the longest time, it sounded like there were pigs oinking outside. I wouldn't be surprised. There is lots of wildlife running around...then I saw the source of the noise. To put is as eloquently as Wendy, my classmate did, "They were doing like they do on the Discovery Channel." It was disgusting.
The campus in on "The Hill." It is a place where nature and urbanization meet. There are plenty of trees around and ample space for a monkey colony among other thins. It amuses me that locals take no notice of the baboon on campus. It's almost like being in the jungle without...I would say long drop toilets, but we have "squatty potties" and those are worse...the jungle without the big predators. Humans are the most dangerous thing besides the cats who try to bit your fingers at dinner if you put your hands under the table. (We have a large ferrel cat population on campus.) There are palm trees and other tropical fauna right next to the Internet cafe. It is completely unexpected. When you go out to eat, you get the choice of sitting outside as long as the monkeys aren't running the show. Otherwise, some of our cafes are as nice as any outdoor eatery in the states.
OK, this has gone on long enough. Stay safe and avoid the Discovery Channel.Trust me on this one.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
What else is there to say?
Just a little food for thought...and a laugh at my expense. This happened awhile ago, but can only now tell this story without becoming too red in the face.
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In Tanzania, we have to hand wash our clothes. Well I was doing this one day in the washroom. I had my music playing, headphones in of course. I'm stading at the sink washing my unmentionalbles and unrealized to me, I'm singing louder than I though. Security came by as I was wringing out my laundy. What do you say to a strange man who sees you washing your underwear and singing loudly..."Jambo!" (that means hello). And so life goes on in Tanzania... :)
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In Tanzania, we have to hand wash our clothes. Well I was doing this one day in the washroom. I had my music playing, headphones in of course. I'm stading at the sink washing my unmentionalbles and unrealized to me, I'm singing louder than I though. Security came by as I was wringing out my laundy. What do you say to a strange man who sees you washing your underwear and singing loudly..."Jambo!" (that means hello). And so life goes on in Tanzania... :)
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Keep you hands to yourself…
I found my self saying this to one of the kids in the Standard 6 class I work in at the elementary school. She was poking and hitting the girl in front of her in the head. As soon as it came out of my mouth, I realized how ridiculous it sounded. First of all, the majority of these kids in theory should have a decent grasp of English…reality is that is not so. Secondly, these kids have never been taught not to hit. They do what they see everyday. The teachers discipline them for everything from talking to misspelling vocabulary words. We were told in grading their exercise books, “make sure you mark the ones they get wrong so I can punish them later.” That translates into they will get lashes on the back of the hand or the wrist. When the behavior is really bad, it is on the thighs. In Tanzania, by the letter of the law, only the head master is allowed to dispense corporal punishment for serous offenses. The reality I see is that teachers regularly lash or hit their students. I’ve even seen one teacher corralling kids like cattle with a stick at least the size of my ring finger. It is challenging to sit back and watch. As a foreigner I can’t say much. I know that if I ever see the “corralling” action again, it will take a force of nature to keep me from intervening on behalf of the students.
Friday, August 22, 2008
When “please” doesn’t mean “please”
Coming to a foreign country, I’ve tried very hard to not be a typical American. As soon as I learned “Please” and “Thank You” I started using them. Today, I learned the most disturbing thing in Swahili class: the word I have been using to say please, “Tafadhali” does not mean something polite alone. It makes whatever I said previously sound like a command. My heart sank. I have been trying so hard to be kind and respectful and all along I’ve been insulting people. No one mentioned anything about it until today. The proper way to say please is “Tafadhali naomba...” So yes, I’ve been offending people for weeks. My first thought was “Why didn’t someone say something about this?” Instead of being kind, I’ve been bossing people around. I can say that I felt a wave on embarrassment. I know some of the people I speak Swahili with also speak fairly fluent English. My only thought is they didn’t want to discourage me from trying to speak Swahili and assumed that I’d figure it out in time. Now I feel like I have to be extra nice to make up for the fool I’ve been. I know it wasn’t intentional. My errors have been out of ignorance. I can say one thing for sure…when I meet with next year’s students, I plan on mentioning this.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Muzungu on Display
I've been called Muzungu (White Person) from the minute I landed in Tanzania. I'm not a stranger to it. I've kinda excepted it and slightly enjoy saying it to the obvious white tourist. When I'm feeling especially brave, I retort one of two ways...with a laugh of course: "Mafricans!" which basically points out the fact that they are African or "Wapi?" which means "Where?" It generally gets a laugh from all parities involved.
The first time it was strangely fun was the other morning at the market in Survey. I was with my Kiswahili tutor and she stopped to buy some bananas The cutest little girl probably two or three came up to me. I thought she wanted to hold my hand. Kids here do that. Instead she turned it over several times and stroked my skin and stared intently. Then she proceeded to lift up my pant leg to see that my legs were the same color as my hands. She didn't think that I was white all over because I was wearing chocolate brown pants. She kept saying Mzungu, mzungu. It was too cute. I bent down to talk with her. I told her my Swahili name - Dalila - and I became Dalila Mzungu. She wanted to touch my face and hair. Then she ran off to get her friends so they could touch me. All the while my tutor is laughing as well as all of the other adults in the vicinity. I was definitely the curiosity for the day. It was an odd occurrence. I'm just glad my whiteness didn't make her cry. Some of the rural babies I visited didn't know what to think of this white girl .
The first time it was strangely fun was the other morning at the market in Survey. I was with my Kiswahili tutor and she stopped to buy some bananas The cutest little girl probably two or three came up to me. I thought she wanted to hold my hand. Kids here do that. Instead she turned it over several times and stroked my skin and stared intently. Then she proceeded to lift up my pant leg to see that my legs were the same color as my hands. She didn't think that I was white all over because I was wearing chocolate brown pants. She kept saying Mzungu, mzungu. It was too cute. I bent down to talk with her. I told her my Swahili name - Dalila - and I became Dalila Mzungu. She wanted to touch my face and hair. Then she ran off to get her friends so they could touch me. All the while my tutor is laughing as well as all of the other adults in the vicinity. I was definitely the curiosity for the day. It was an odd occurrence. I'm just glad my whiteness didn't make her cry. Some of the rural babies I visited didn't know what to think of this white girl .
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
How many people can you fit in a minivan?
We call them dala dalas here. It's the public transportation system. The dala dalas are converted mini vans that have about 12 seats in them. Yes only twelve seats, but the last time I rode in one there were 29 of us. Children get passed through windows. You hold chickens and bags and you touch everybody. The last time I went to Bagamoyo, an hour away, I had a rather large gentlemen standing/crouching in front of me. His legs got tired so he sat in my lap...just plopped down. No asking or thank yous! The only rule is the door must be closed. Don't even ask for a seatbelt. You don't need one. You're packed in too tightly.
In theory, all of the buses are marked with the color of the city or hub they go to and the color for the place they come from. The conductor hustles you on and shakes coins in your face when you are supposed to pay. It's about 300 Tsh for a ride most anywhere in the city. To areas outside of town the fees to up steeply. It's the only affordable way to get around though private taxis are a last resort (if you are sick, after dark, or in a sketchy part of town).
It's all part of the Tanzanian experience. At first, I didn't like sitting in the middle or back. Now I've learned that if you are riding all the way to the hub, it is the place to sit. You are less likely to have a rump in your face or lap and no one will try to pick pocket you as you are stranger with your rear towards the window with the window open. You get to know your neighbors well. :)
In theory, all of the buses are marked with the color of the city or hub they go to and the color for the place they come from. The conductor hustles you on and shakes coins in your face when you are supposed to pay. It's about 300 Tsh for a ride most anywhere in the city. To areas outside of town the fees to up steeply. It's the only affordable way to get around though private taxis are a last resort (if you are sick, after dark, or in a sketchy part of town).
It's all part of the Tanzanian experience. At first, I didn't like sitting in the middle or back. Now I've learned that if you are riding all the way to the hub, it is the place to sit. You are less likely to have a rump in your face or lap and no one will try to pick pocket you as you are stranger with your rear towards the window with the window open. You get to know your neighbors well. :)
Friday, August 15, 2008
Social Expectations or Am I a Worrier?
I’ve discovered that some things I do that I’ve always considered considerate of others don’t have the same meaning here. My interactions with my cohort have proven to be challenging because I speak a whole different language, I feel at times. I find myself getting frustrated and I have to stop and reflect as to why I feel that way. Usually, within a few minutes I discover the source, but the feeling doesn’t always subside that fast.
Last night after one of those incidents, I stood for awhile in the hallway for the breeze, staring out at the trees. The only thing that floated in my mind is a excerpt from “The Remedy” by Jason Mraz. (*For ease of reading I’ll include my thoughts here and the full song at the end. You should check it out. J)
Because
The remedy is the experience.
This is a dangerous liaison
I say the comedy is that it's serious.
This is a strange enough new play on words
I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
The rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
When it all amounts to nothing in the end.
I won't worry my life away.
I won't worry my life away.
I find myself worrying (I call it thinking) too much…about others, about myself, about situations, about being proper. The overall felling I got from this entire experience is that in trusting God and others…something I’ve been working on a lot…I am free to be myself and find myself. I am heading to a restoration of me. Not the leader, in charge, together me, but the heart of who I was created to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Remedy – Jason Mraz
I saw fireworks from the freeway
And behind closed eyes I cannot make them go away
'Cause you were born on the fourth of July, freedom ring
Now something on the surface it stings
I said something on the surface
Well it kind of makes me nervous
Who says that you deserve this
And what kind of god would serve this?
We will cure this dirty old disease
If you've got the poison
I've got the remedy
The remedy is the experience.
This is a dangerous liaison
I say the comedy is that it's serious.
This is a strange enough new play on words
I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
The rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
When it all amounts to nothing in the end.
I won't worry my life away.
I won't worry my life away.
I heard two men talking on the radio
In a cross fire kind of reality show
Uncovering the ways to plan the next big attack
They were counting down the ways to stab
The brother in the be right back after this
The unavoidable kiss, where the minty fresh
Death breath is sure to outlast this catastrophy
Dance with me, because if you've got the poison, I
've got the remedy
The remedy is the experience.
This is a dangerous liaison
I say the comedy is that it's serious.
This is a strange enough new play on words
I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
The rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
When it all amounts to nothing in the end.
I won't worry my life away.
I won't worry my life away.
When I fall in love I take my time
There's no need to hurry when I'm making up my mind
You can turn off the sun but I'm still gonna shine and I'll tell you why
Because
The remedy is the experience.
This is a dangerous liaison
I say the comedy is that it's serious.
This is a strange enough new play on words
I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
The rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
When it all amounts to nothing in the end.
I won't worry my life away.
I won't and I won't and I won't
Last night after one of those incidents, I stood for awhile in the hallway for the breeze, staring out at the trees. The only thing that floated in my mind is a excerpt from “The Remedy” by Jason Mraz. (*For ease of reading I’ll include my thoughts here and the full song at the end. You should check it out. J)
Because
The remedy is the experience.
This is a dangerous liaison
I say the comedy is that it's serious.
This is a strange enough new play on words
I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
The rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
When it all amounts to nothing in the end.
I won't worry my life away.
I won't worry my life away.
I find myself worrying (I call it thinking) too much…about others, about myself, about situations, about being proper. The overall felling I got from this entire experience is that in trusting God and others…something I’ve been working on a lot…I am free to be myself and find myself. I am heading to a restoration of me. Not the leader, in charge, together me, but the heart of who I was created to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Remedy – Jason Mraz
I saw fireworks from the freeway
And behind closed eyes I cannot make them go away
'Cause you were born on the fourth of July, freedom ring
Now something on the surface it stings
I said something on the surface
Well it kind of makes me nervous
Who says that you deserve this
And what kind of god would serve this?
We will cure this dirty old disease
If you've got the poison
I've got the remedy
The remedy is the experience.
This is a dangerous liaison
I say the comedy is that it's serious.
This is a strange enough new play on words
I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
The rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
When it all amounts to nothing in the end.
I won't worry my life away.
I won't worry my life away.
I heard two men talking on the radio
In a cross fire kind of reality show
Uncovering the ways to plan the next big attack
They were counting down the ways to stab
The brother in the be right back after this
The unavoidable kiss, where the minty fresh
Death breath is sure to outlast this catastrophy
Dance with me, because if you've got the poison, I
've got the remedy
The remedy is the experience.
This is a dangerous liaison
I say the comedy is that it's serious.
This is a strange enough new play on words
I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
The rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
When it all amounts to nothing in the end.
I won't worry my life away.
I won't worry my life away.
When I fall in love I take my time
There's no need to hurry when I'm making up my mind
You can turn off the sun but I'm still gonna shine and I'll tell you why
Because
The remedy is the experience.
This is a dangerous liaison
I say the comedy is that it's serious.
This is a strange enough new play on words
I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
The rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
When it all amounts to nothing in the end.
I won't worry my life away.
I won't and I won't and I won't
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Maasai Shoukas: Made in China
Here's a little obervation from my trip to the boma...thought I would save it for a time when I had nothing interesting to write about. :)
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During Gemma’s lecture under a large tree in outside of the boma, she briefly mentioned the concept of globalization and what that means for the Maasai. The one thing that stuck in my mind is that you can now buy Maasai shoukas, traditional clothing, in the market and the package says “Made in China.” That took me a bit by surprise. What a contrast. Maasailand is about as far from anything Chinese I could picture. Now the fabrics they wear instead of cow hides are being produced thousands of miles away and imported by some company to be sold to the people who introduced the concept in the first place. What a small world. I wonder of the Chinese workers who make the fabrics understand what they are making and how far away it will go. Each of those fabrics are not just clothing, they are communication symbols about each individuals age set and rank. Globalization is evident also in the media they are exposed to. From the ads in the small shops to the music on the radio, outside ideas are infiltrating Maasai culture. Some of this is bound to happen as the world grows smaller and it becomes necessary to interact with the rest of the world. It would be interesting to see the progression of this process. As an outsider, it would be harder to observe than one in the culture from birth though that perspective.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
During Gemma’s lecture under a large tree in outside of the boma, she briefly mentioned the concept of globalization and what that means for the Maasai. The one thing that stuck in my mind is that you can now buy Maasai shoukas, traditional clothing, in the market and the package says “Made in China.” That took me a bit by surprise. What a contrast. Maasailand is about as far from anything Chinese I could picture. Now the fabrics they wear instead of cow hides are being produced thousands of miles away and imported by some company to be sold to the people who introduced the concept in the first place. What a small world. I wonder of the Chinese workers who make the fabrics understand what they are making and how far away it will go. Each of those fabrics are not just clothing, they are communication symbols about each individuals age set and rank. Globalization is evident also in the media they are exposed to. From the ads in the small shops to the music on the radio, outside ideas are infiltrating Maasai culture. Some of this is bound to happen as the world grows smaller and it becomes necessary to interact with the rest of the world. It would be interesting to see the progression of this process. As an outsider, it would be harder to observe than one in the culture from birth though that perspective.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Life Update!
Seeing as I am really far behind on my blog updates…I promise I’ll have more exciting thoughts and stories up soon….I thought you might want to know some general details about my life. It’s kinda boring, but it’s my everyday. Enjoy!
Travel: I haven’t gone too far since we came to the city. I’m still working out plans for my independent travel. I’ve got several extra days now (see the school section) so I need to fill them:
School: as of last night, the university isn’t opening for classes until the 29th of September. Originally, we were supposed to start on the 15th of September. With that said, I still have no Idea what classes I am taking and probably won’t until after the 29th as the class schedule is rarely finalized until after the start of classes. The other interesting fact…there are no text books! I’m a little nervous about this one.
Living arrangements: Currently, I am housed on the 9th floor (labeled the 8th Floor) of Hall Three. It’s the top floor of the building and the roof is one of the highest points in Dar. You can get a great view of the city. I can see the Indian Ocean from my balcony on a clear day. There is a really nice breeze. The air flow is the trade off for hiking that far up every day. Cold showers and water somewhat regularly. Hand wash the clothes and normally they dry overnight.
Food: Wali na maharage. Beans and rice…sometimes I get spinach with it. I’m little hesitant when I can’t see the meat before I order it. I like the food for the most part and there is no shortage of it if you are willing to pay. What I miss the most so far is dairy products. I have to one little store I know that sells milk and I don’t get cheese unless I go to a western style restaurant and even that is questionable.
Friends: The group I’m with is amazing. We all have a good time together. It’s been an adventure so far and I’m looking forward to more time with them all.
Umm, I think that’s all the major details. Do you have anything you are wondering about? Feel free to send me your questions and I’ll be happy to answer them.
Love and Stuff!
Travel: I haven’t gone too far since we came to the city. I’m still working out plans for my independent travel. I’ve got several extra days now (see the school section) so I need to fill them:
School: as of last night, the university isn’t opening for classes until the 29th of September. Originally, we were supposed to start on the 15th of September. With that said, I still have no Idea what classes I am taking and probably won’t until after the 29th as the class schedule is rarely finalized until after the start of classes. The other interesting fact…there are no text books! I’m a little nervous about this one.
Living arrangements: Currently, I am housed on the 9th floor (labeled the 8th Floor) of Hall Three. It’s the top floor of the building and the roof is one of the highest points in Dar. You can get a great view of the city. I can see the Indian Ocean from my balcony on a clear day. There is a really nice breeze. The air flow is the trade off for hiking that far up every day. Cold showers and water somewhat regularly. Hand wash the clothes and normally they dry overnight.
Food: Wali na maharage. Beans and rice…sometimes I get spinach with it. I’m little hesitant when I can’t see the meat before I order it. I like the food for the most part and there is no shortage of it if you are willing to pay. What I miss the most so far is dairy products. I have to one little store I know that sells milk and I don’t get cheese unless I go to a western style restaurant and even that is questionable.
Friends: The group I’m with is amazing. We all have a good time together. It’s been an adventure so far and I’m looking forward to more time with them all.
Umm, I think that’s all the major details. Do you have anything you are wondering about? Feel free to send me your questions and I’ll be happy to answer them.
Love and Stuff!
Monday, August 11, 2008
If I Went Home Tomorrow...
The possibility of the university shutting down for the fall was brought up in conversation today. Classes were already pushed back because of the lack of university funding. Talking to my roommate, we discussed virtually every option as to what we would do and what we’ve learned so far as well as reasons we would go home if classes were cancelled.
I can’t specifically say at this point what all I’ve learned. I do know a little more Kiswahili then when I started. I’ve cultivated a deeper relationship with God. I’ve met some interesting people. I’ve tried lots of new food. I’ve made new friends. I’ve had to laugh at myself…and I’ve almost been scared speechless.
I think it ultimately comes down to what is best for my finances and my education. Whatever happens, I really hope we have information soon as I need to plan one way or the other. Too, it’s hard to stay motivated to work on your language skills, when part of you believes that you’ll be home in three weeks.
There is so much I still want to do and see here though I know there is a tiny, tiny, part of me that misses what I know. I haven’t had any real homesickness or missed anybody immensely as of yet. I don’t know….Tomorrow we meet again with our professor and maybe she’ll have some answers for us. My brain is in hyper-overdrive until them trying to develop Plans C, D & E.
I can’t specifically say at this point what all I’ve learned. I do know a little more Kiswahili then when I started. I’ve cultivated a deeper relationship with God. I’ve met some interesting people. I’ve tried lots of new food. I’ve made new friends. I’ve had to laugh at myself…and I’ve almost been scared speechless.
I think it ultimately comes down to what is best for my finances and my education. Whatever happens, I really hope we have information soon as I need to plan one way or the other. Too, it’s hard to stay motivated to work on your language skills, when part of you believes that you’ll be home in three weeks.
There is so much I still want to do and see here though I know there is a tiny, tiny, part of me that misses what I know. I haven’t had any real homesickness or missed anybody immensely as of yet. I don’t know….Tomorrow we meet again with our professor and maybe she’ll have some answers for us. My brain is in hyper-overdrive until them trying to develop Plans C, D & E.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Shopping: Yikes!
I though shopping at a Western-style shopping center would bring me a little bit closer to home and help me feel a little more at ease…even if for only a half an hour. It proved to be one of the most stressful things I’ve done since I’ve been here. I wasn’t fending off people hawking all sorts of things with shouts of “Come in, Friend. Looking is free.” I, instead was lost in aisles of disorganized, overpriced imported items. For example, a simple thermal lunch sack, like the one I had in third grade, was Tsh 17,000 or four rolls of toilet paper for Tsh 9,000. The whole experience was one of elbowing past people to find what I was looking for. (Who puts stationary in the same aisle with candy and juice?) It was lines of foreigners and muzungu looking for their favorite shampoo. I thought I might have a panic attack. One of my friends later pointed out as I told her this story that it was a holiday weekend and everyone was probably out to get their shopping done before they had to go back to the work week. Who knows...
I haven’t felt the kind of stress that I did in the store since I left home. It wasn’t unknown anxiety, it was the hurried and hassle stress. I don’t like that feeling. Apparently I haven’t missed it. I think the only thing I’m going to like about Mlimani City Shopping Center is the book store and the movie theater. As much as the market at Mwenge unnerves me, I think I might be better off there.
I haven’t felt the kind of stress that I did in the store since I left home. It wasn’t unknown anxiety, it was the hurried and hassle stress. I don’t like that feeling. Apparently I haven’t missed it. I think the only thing I’m going to like about Mlimani City Shopping Center is the book store and the movie theater. As much as the market at Mwenge unnerves me, I think I might be better off there.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Malaria Mosquitoes
Malaria Mosquitoes
I got my first mosquito bite yesterday. I didn’t even notice until I rubbed my elbow and the itch started. It happened during our time with out Kiswahili tutor in the late morning. I thought the little critters were most active at dawn and dusk. Anyway, one found me. It wasn’t a big deal at first, and then I started thinking. That usually gets me in trouble. I found myself on several occasions looking at the vein in my arm pictured Plasmodium falciparum coursing through my blood stream. My thought-movie was in Technicolor and nifty animation like you’d see in House, M.D. or CSI. (My imagination was in overdrive.)
I have never had to worry about contagious disease like this before. The majority of people around me, Tanzanians that is, it’s a fact of life. Some put it like this, though I didn’t remember who said it: In the US, you get sick and assume it’s a cold or the flu. In Tanzania, you get sick and you treat it like malaria. I read a statistic that said that up to sixty percent of Tanzania’s adult population has asymptomatic malaria. That means that any given time, their blood would test positive for the parasite, yet show no physical symptoms of the disease. This is a positive for adults as their system apparently has enough immunity to keep a symptomatic infection at bay. Children, those hardest hit by malaria, do not have this advantage as they have had less exposure to the disease. Thinking about the depth and breadth of this issue can be overwhelming. The biggest hindrance to eradication in the country is funding. Funding is needed for many areas not just healthcare. It would take an overhaul of the nation’s public sanitation and water systems as well as additions to the system combined with universal malaria education and a public support of the project. The standing water virtually everywhere is the perfect breeding ground for these nasty pests. Eradication is a long way off in this country. Until then it’s about prevention and public awareness.
I got my first mosquito bite yesterday. I didn’t even notice until I rubbed my elbow and the itch started. It happened during our time with out Kiswahili tutor in the late morning. I thought the little critters were most active at dawn and dusk. Anyway, one found me. It wasn’t a big deal at first, and then I started thinking. That usually gets me in trouble. I found myself on several occasions looking at the vein in my arm pictured Plasmodium falciparum coursing through my blood stream. My thought-movie was in Technicolor and nifty animation like you’d see in House, M.D. or CSI. (My imagination was in overdrive.)
I have never had to worry about contagious disease like this before. The majority of people around me, Tanzanians that is, it’s a fact of life. Some put it like this, though I didn’t remember who said it: In the US, you get sick and assume it’s a cold or the flu. In Tanzania, you get sick and you treat it like malaria. I read a statistic that said that up to sixty percent of Tanzania’s adult population has asymptomatic malaria. That means that any given time, their blood would test positive for the parasite, yet show no physical symptoms of the disease. This is a positive for adults as their system apparently has enough immunity to keep a symptomatic infection at bay. Children, those hardest hit by malaria, do not have this advantage as they have had less exposure to the disease. Thinking about the depth and breadth of this issue can be overwhelming. The biggest hindrance to eradication in the country is funding. Funding is needed for many areas not just healthcare. It would take an overhaul of the nation’s public sanitation and water systems as well as additions to the system combined with universal malaria education and a public support of the project. The standing water virtually everywhere is the perfect breeding ground for these nasty pests. Eradication is a long way off in this country. Until then it’s about prevention and public awareness.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Extrovert on Vacation
I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to speak. My extrovert is in hibernation until January. I am really nervous about speaking the little Kiswahili I know. My experience has been once you make it a little ways into the greetings, the person you are talking to takes off at full speed and you’re left there nodding and trying to understand. At least when I was being spoken to in KiMaa, I could get by with mumbling, “Eehhh.” Not so much here. It seems as though those I meet, at least at the university are testing my ability to cope with their speech. I usually just sit back and smile. Even in the group it is an exercise in sorting out who, what, when, and how everyone speaks. Though speaking with those around me is far more challenging. I think I might be OK if there weren’t so many formalized greetings. I know many of the words that we’ve learned, but putting them into sentences is difficult. I’m more comfortable with sentences abou random things. I think all fo the greetings are uncomfortable because I’m talking to complete strangers, many of whom I’ll never see again. At home, it’s a cascual Hi with a smile as you pass someone; here is it a prescribed set of Hellos, What’s the News?, etc. It is far more intimate and personal than I like to be with people I have no connection to.
The loud, crazy, fun part of me misses those who know that part of me. I miss those people I can let my guard down with and just be. I do that well alone here, but what’s the point of being unguarded if you can’t share your truest self with anyone. I’m making progress. I just have to remember that I haven’t’ been here that long. Swahili still feels strange coming out of my mouth.
The loud, crazy, fun part of me misses those who know that part of me. I miss those people I can let my guard down with and just be. I do that well alone here, but what’s the point of being unguarded if you can’t share your truest self with anyone. I’m making progress. I just have to remember that I haven’t’ been here that long. Swahili still feels strange coming out of my mouth.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
You can call me Dalila.
My professor called it a baptism in Kiswahili. On second thought, it became more than that. It was me choosing to become a part of their culture in a simple way. I’ve always thought about what it would be like to have a different name as mine is fairly uncommon and I am frequently called something besides my name. It’s been even more frequent being in Tanzania. Only once or twice has it been really frustrating to not hear my name…said properly…or even be spoken to by name and not part of a general group. Back to the story…sitting in our first morning of language lessons, we were given a sheet of Swahili names to pick from. All of a sudden, I couldn’t pick a new name. It was scary to think about. I felt like I was asked to redefine myself in three minutes. It came to the wire and I had to make a choice. I chose Dalila. It means “proof” in Swahili. Somewhat suiting seeing my nature. There was another one I liked as well, but someone else picked it. I was too afraid to speak up first or else I would have a different name. I think it will all work out well. I still have to think about answering to that name. I miss hearing my name said. There is something about it that marks you as an individual. Coming from an more individualistic society, I think I expect to be recognized as an individual, as Shanea’, not Friend or Sister that I hear so frequently here. I think Ma’am or Miss would bother me less than the ambiguity of a general term.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Three days in a boma...I smell like goat!
Thursday through this morning we were at a home stay with a Maasai family. It was quite the adventure in more than one way.
Short version: Hiking 7k uphill in a skirt, milking a goat (I'm pretty good at it) slaughtering the goat (and watching people eat it raw), dancing with Maasai women until late, late, late, and then making it home. If you are still intrigued, read more details below.
On the way to the boma, we created our own road. Well, maybe one or two cars had gone before us. We stopped at the secondary school and decided to walk into the village from there. I was told it would be an hour. I didn't realize how long or how far that hour would take us. It was about 4k and I did it wearing a kanga (skirt type thing) over my pants. My range of motion was severely restricted. Once we made it into the village, Dodo, our cook made us lunch. Quite tasty for bush food. After our afternoon lecture, we were sent to journal "until the cows come home." That was a literal statement. We could sit in the yard until the goats came, but had to be moved by the time the cows came or they would trample us. Once the goats and sheep came in, we got to milk goats. It's a bit challenging since the teats are so tiny. I managed to get a few squirts out. Not enough for my tea though.
The sun promptly rises at 7am and sets at 7pm. After it was sufficiently dark, we laid out in the pasture watching the stars. I saw the Milky Way so clearly. The stars were amazing!
Friday morning we took off for the orpul, the sacred healing spot in Maasai medicine. It was quite the journey there...once again in a skirt...probably another 4 or 5k. (I'm an awful judge of distance, but it was in interesting trek on cow trails.)
Once there Gemma gave us a lecture on Maasai traditional medicine and we proceed with the goat slaughter. I was hoping to participate, but the warriors do it. It was less gruesome than I thought it would be. It was very systematic. The goat was killed by suffocation so there was no awful squealing or gurgling. I'll spare you the remainder of the details as I know I have squeamish readers. Basically we were asked to consume raw meat and organs followed by medicinal soup. I politely declined though I watched others including a five year old partake.
The roasted meat was really good. Surprisingly I like goat. After the eating and singing, the warriors made us these nifty goat skin rings/bracelets. It was cool until i put it on. The skin was still a bit bloody and kinda slimy. I wore it until I got back to the boma and couldn't take the smell anymore. It's dried now and I'll resume wearing it in a day or so. It's pretty cool looking.
Once we made it back to camp, barely before the goats, we had dinner and chatted. After it was sufficiently late, the warriors started chanting and the shoto began. It's an interesting process of the warriors jumping and chanting while the ladies call back and shake their huge beaded collars. I got kinda good at it. Basically it was dirty dancing Maasai style. It was an experience. That's all I'm gonna say.
OK, that's the somewhat longer version. I'm headed to dinner now. Goat...Yummy!
Short version: Hiking 7k uphill in a skirt, milking a goat (I'm pretty good at it) slaughtering the goat (and watching people eat it raw), dancing with Maasai women until late, late, late, and then making it home. If you are still intrigued, read more details below.
On the way to the boma, we created our own road. Well, maybe one or two cars had gone before us. We stopped at the secondary school and decided to walk into the village from there. I was told it would be an hour. I didn't realize how long or how far that hour would take us. It was about 4k and I did it wearing a kanga (skirt type thing) over my pants. My range of motion was severely restricted. Once we made it into the village, Dodo, our cook made us lunch. Quite tasty for bush food. After our afternoon lecture, we were sent to journal "until the cows come home." That was a literal statement. We could sit in the yard until the goats came, but had to be moved by the time the cows came or they would trample us. Once the goats and sheep came in, we got to milk goats. It's a bit challenging since the teats are so tiny. I managed to get a few squirts out. Not enough for my tea though.
The sun promptly rises at 7am and sets at 7pm. After it was sufficiently dark, we laid out in the pasture watching the stars. I saw the Milky Way so clearly. The stars were amazing!
Friday morning we took off for the orpul, the sacred healing spot in Maasai medicine. It was quite the journey there...once again in a skirt...probably another 4 or 5k. (I'm an awful judge of distance, but it was in interesting trek on cow trails.)
Once there Gemma gave us a lecture on Maasai traditional medicine and we proceed with the goat slaughter. I was hoping to participate, but the warriors do it. It was less gruesome than I thought it would be. It was very systematic. The goat was killed by suffocation so there was no awful squealing or gurgling. I'll spare you the remainder of the details as I know I have squeamish readers. Basically we were asked to consume raw meat and organs followed by medicinal soup. I politely declined though I watched others including a five year old partake.
The roasted meat was really good. Surprisingly I like goat. After the eating and singing, the warriors made us these nifty goat skin rings/bracelets. It was cool until i put it on. The skin was still a bit bloody and kinda slimy. I wore it until I got back to the boma and couldn't take the smell anymore. It's dried now and I'll resume wearing it in a day or so. It's pretty cool looking.
Once we made it back to camp, barely before the goats, we had dinner and chatted. After it was sufficiently late, the warriors started chanting and the shoto began. It's an interesting process of the warriors jumping and chanting while the ladies call back and shake their huge beaded collars. I got kinda good at it. Basically it was dirty dancing Maasai style. It was an experience. That's all I'm gonna say.
OK, that's the somewhat longer version. I'm headed to dinner now. Goat...Yummy!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Dancing!
Tonight we danced with the Maasai. There was something pretty amazing about it. I’m not sure of the best way to describe how the experience felt; it was a little strange at first, yet once I started to take the whole context in, I felt like I was connecting with something from in me. At first it was awkward as I was challenged to use parts of my body that I normally do not use or at least move in the same fashion. I mastered the basic rhythm and then got thrown in the circle by one of the ladies. It was definitely fun, but I felt so aware of my every move. Trying to copy their style without accidentally adding my own interpretation as a dancer that might be interpreted differently than my intentions was something I had to consciously think about. I was captivated by the dancers. I see why this ritual is seen as a display of power and sexuality from the men and women alike. It was freeing to be able to join in and for a few minutes, as awkward as I felt in my movement, not be an outsider. I was part of the group. I was dancing with, not at, for or around, with the Maasai. I did it. It will always be a memory. There was no way to describe the etherealness of the scene and the sounds of the chanting. It is something to be experienced.
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