From TX to TZ via WA

Things I Could Buy Out of the Car/Bus/Dala Dala Window...

2008-12-15T06:33:00.000-08:00

This is by no stretch of the imagination a complete list. It is the things that I observed and remembered to write down. There were always new things to see every time I went out.

Welcome Mats
Bras
Kites
Jewelry
Cow Boy Hats
Underwear
Coat Racks
Radio/TV Antennas
Jack Fruit
Chickens
Coconut Grinders
Peanuts
Cashews
Shoes
Knives
Spears
Fruits & Vegetables*
Spices
Newspapers
Hangers (Plastic & Wooden)
Pillows
Electrified Bug Zappers
Mirrors
Artwork
Chewing Gum
Biscuits
Samosas
Toothpaste
Puppies
Flashlights
Fabric
Tape Measure
Baskets
Levels
Whole Pineapples
Belts
Candies
Caution Triangles
Jump Ropes
Balls
Purses
CD Cases
Cassette Cleaners
Exercise Springs
Steering Wheel Covers
Soccer Balls
Photo Frames
Socks
Towels Maps
Dictionaries
Car Decals
Seat Covers
Stools
Spoons
Hard Boiled Eggs
Cane Knives
Sugar Cane
Candle Sticks
Plums
A Small Child**

Notes:
* This includes a varieties of veggie and fruits, tomatoes, bell peppers, onions, bags of oranges, bunches of bananas. The fruits or vegetables that are listed separately are of special note.

** The Small child was really the opportunity to take a photo of the child. The Maasai Mammas would hold the babies and pose for a picture if you would give them money.

At Home!

2008-12-15T06:27:00.000-08:00

I made it home. It was a long interesting flight. The second half was rather lonley as I flew alone because teh rest of the group headed home to Minnesota or Washington. I slept really well my first night at home. I was so tired. I think i may be able to beat the jetlag. We'll see how today goes. Dad wants to make today a marathon shopping day. YIKES! He wants to go to Wal-Mart and the Mall. I told him we would see how I'm feeling about the whole thing. My first meal home was Mexican food with real sour cream and it was glorious. I didn't get sick either. Thank you Lactaid. Anyway, I still have half of it in the refirgerator. Lunch!

I hope all of you will keep reading for a bit. I plan on making updates and commentary about readjustment. My aim is to keep it focused on my re-entry process. Look for an offshooot blog comming in later months about life in general and the beginning of nurisng school and fundraising for Nkoanrua.

Check the photo page over the next week as I will be uploading lots of pictures now that I have a reliable internet connection that is fast. I forgot how nice it is.

Have a great day!

The First Step

2008-12-11T09:00:00.000-08:00

On my trip back to Arusha, I made a point to meet with Steven Ndosi again. We have been communicating via e-mail regarding our joint project proposal. We met to discuss the logistics of getting the Maternal Child Health Clinic running again. The building is in serious disrepair and needs to be torn down. To make it usable again, it needs to be completely renovated from the foundation up. From what I’ve been told, once the structure is repaired, the government will send more staff. The ward only has one government sponsored midwife at this point and she is very overworked and undersupplied because the government will not send anymore staff as well as minimal supplies because they consider the facility inadequate. The ward is responsible for rebuilding the structure if they want the government to send the supplies and staff.

This is something I have been thinking about for a long time...since my first visit to Nkoanrua. This “wild idea” as Steven has taken to calling it has only grown in me as I have been working on my research paper. I am excited to get home and start the actual foot work for this project. Since I’ve been to the site and talked with some of the players, I saw first hand the need for these services. I’ve discovered the passion for making a difference in women’s lives. Doing something for them makes a difference in the quality of life for the entire community.

I am so wary of disappointing these people, but I know that I can do something to make a difference. The things I’ve learned this semester in my classes have provided valuable insight into the cultural basis for healthcare and some of the obstacles to making quality care a reality. My aim is to not be seen as an outside donor but a partner. From what Steven said, the village and ward are prepared to contribute to the building effort with supplies and labor.

It is encouraging to see these people rally together to better themselves. They have already invested in so much. I am eager to see them continue to invest in their advancement for the betterment of them all.

In this little community, the village council plays an important part in decisions that are made about the community. It’s comparable to neighborhood organizations at home though this one is far more connected to the government.

There is much planning and prep work to be done. This meeting was the first step. I now am charged to go home and start the process of building my team and making all of the things Steven and I talked about a reality. Because of this project, I may be back in Tanzania sooner than later.

Almost Home

2008-12-10T21:09:00.000-08:00

I find my self looking at the calendar seeing how close I am to boarding a plane. It seems too surreal. I’ve been here as long as I have though it feels like I should have months to go. There has been so much I have absorbed from this environment and other things in me I’ve had to weed out. So much of this trip has been a personal journey, something that can’t be quantified and summed up in less than a thousand words. There are times that I have not even had words for what my heart would feel towards Tanzania and the people here. I can physically see the needs of people and intellectually process some of the factors that contribute to it yet there is so much that I do not understand as an outsider with such a limited cultural perspective. None the less, I am still moved to do something about it. I’m not entirely sure what form that will take or what that means. I do know the measure of Tanzania I take with me home - not just in my suitcase either. Interactions with individuals, families, and communities have left indelible marks on my personal and career aspirations. I’ve had a clear picture for awhile about the types of things I want to see happen in my lifetime within my career and personal involvement. I think I have found the place for that to happen.

Being in an environment where I am frequently faced with situations and conversations that challenge my personal boundaries and beliefs, I have had to do a lot of introspection and evaluation. I have had to choose to change and grow based on the information I have been presented with and what I have seen for my self. This has been a deeply personal journey. Combining what I’ve learned and experienced here coupled with the things that I had to deal with at home and in myself, it is challenging to sum it up in a pretty paragraph or two.

I know going home is not going to be as rosy as I like to imagine it. I will have plenty of things to continue thinking about. With the MCHC project for Nkoanrua, Tanzania will never be far from my thoughts and heart. After meeting with the Director of Nursing at Muhimbili National Hospital, I know I have an internship waiting if I want it and I have friends that I can always visit.

I’ve met amazing people here who have significantly contributed to my learning journey. Other students have challenged my thoughts as I have theirs. There have been many lively discussions over a plate of beans and rice. For some of us we rarely agree. Others we share a few points. Mostly I take a lot of flack for being an American, voting for McCain, and refusing to talk bad about the government. All the way around though my interactions with other international students have been growing ones. I haven’t had as many Tanzanian friendships as I would have liked. With classes starting late, lack of a roommate for such a long time and then early campus closure, I had limited interaction with the women on campus.
I look forward to carrying home my more global perspective that comes not only from living abroad brut also from interacting with other member of the international community in my little Petri dish here.

Counting down!

2008-12-10T14:39:00.000-08:00

My time here is almost up. I have two nights and two and a half days left in Tanzania. I am taking my last final exam tomorrow. I have one textile design to finish and then I am officially done. I have one journal entry to write and then I am finally done with LCCT stuff too. The last thing I have to do is my research paper which I got an extension on. I hope to have it done by he end of the year so it doesn't carry over into my J_term classes.

I'm excited to come home. I'll still have plenty to write about though so keep checking back here every few days as I will continue writing about my re-introduction to so many things I have lived without for a while as well as cultural observations I'll be making.

I miss all of you terribly and I can't wait to see you!

The End of Poverty

2008-12-10T13:09:00.000-08:00

I recently read The End of Poverty by Jeffrey Sachs. It was an interesting concept to explore while living in a developing country. Many of the principles described in the book were field tested in Kenya. A few of them were also tested here. The most fascinating part was the small amount of money that was invested in communities to improve their standard of living and make them self-sufficient.

Reading these studies through, I can not help but think about how some of these principles could be applied to truly end poverty. It is a matter of money and will on the part of the communities. Money is the big key. It would take huge levels of international cooperation to make it happen but it is possible. One person could theoretically fund a village agriculture subsistence revolution with the money he or she could leave as an interchange to the project – I’m talking about $30,000 USD. It seems like a lot of money but in the grand scheme of things it isn’t. There are so many practical ways to make a real impact in the lives of communities to help bring them out of poverty and into something more than mere subsistence.

It seems that poverty is a reoccurring theme in this journal entry set. It is a major theme in everyday life here. It affects everything.

I might be crazy to dream that someday things will be different. I believe that they can be. Being in a mixed group of international students, there are a variety of opinions of development and aid interventions and what is ok and what too much interference with local culture is. There have been many lively discussions revolving around this topic. There seems to be as many opinions as there are people. For something to be done there must be some cross borders conversations and much cooperation, concession and evaluation of what is really needed not what is the easiest to do.

I think there is a solution to the end of poverty. I may not see it happen in my lifetime, but I believe that my peers and I will be the catalyst to see a change in generations to come. It will not be an effort led by governments and organizations but one that starts with people, individuals who want to see a change for the better in the human condition. It may be one community at a time and not one country at a time but it will be effective.

Controversial Statement?

2008-12-09T12:06:00.000-08:00

“I couldn’t live here and be white.”

That was a statement made by someone a few days ago during a conversation between her and me. I’m not sure how I feel about that statement. In her interactions she has aimed to avoid everything that is associated with the mzungu community. She openly expresses disdain anytime any of us do things that do that she disapproves of and thinks isn’t “Tanzanian” enough. It’s been an interesting situation at times.

It has been interesting to watch the group and other international students navigate the social system here and their perceived role as mzungu. Responses have been across the board. It is a fascinating situation to observe. People have responded in so many of different ways. There have been responses of frustration, anger and acceptance. Generally, as the semester has gone on people have become more positive.

I am somewhere in the middle. I think I have struck some peace with the fact that I am undeniably mzungu in Tanzania. I know that I will never be Tanzanian. My skin color will always make me stick out. There is absolutely no getting around that. I have decided that I can minimize the amount of attention I draw to myself. I have to pick what I say, do and where I go. I cannot negate the fact that some people will always treat me differently because of my ethnicity.

Back to the original statement....it left me puzzled for several reasons. First, I’m not sure exactly if that statement comes with conditions and secondly, what has the last few months been...a vacation? The whole thing is a bit too strange for me. I struggled with her viewpoint because it seemed as if she despised the fact that she wasn’t Tanzanian. It is something we know coming here is that we will be a minority in most situations. Intellectually knowing it is far different than understanding what it feels like and anticipating how you will react.

This is one of those things that can be hard to comment on earlier because at least I’ve felt like I need ore time to gain an understanding and a perspective. There is such a history with the way mzungu are treated. Some of it is a spillover from colonialism and the missionary era. Other bits are from the interactions with tourists. There are the things like kids shouting “Give me money” as you walk past or taxi drivers yelling out the window that they have a mzungu in the car so other cars should move. It can be embarrassing and annoying. I cannot change the behavior though. It is something that is bigger than me and my short stay here.

Fairer Than Me

2008-12-08T12:05:00.000-08:00

In virtually every paper I pick up there is a story about the situation of albinos in Tanzania. Apparently the level of violence against them has escalated in the last year or so. Due to traditional beliefs, there are many albinos that have been killed or disfigured for their body parts. There is the belief that certain body parts bring fortune to the bearer as well as take part in ceremonies for healing. There was recently a march by the albino society in Dar to lobby for tighter protection for them from law enforcement agencies. The situation in the city is a bit different than rural areas. I think there is less fear among them as there is more of a group that can lobby for their protection versus isolated communities where there are usually far smaller numbers.

There is a disproportionately high number of albinos in Tanzania. Considering the average composition of skin tone in East Africa, it is easy to understand why the albinos stick out. From the conversations I’ve had with others here, part of the situation is that albinos marry other albinos. Since it is a genetic condition, when they have children, it is passed on increasing numbers. The condition is currently classified as a disability by the Tanzanian government allowing them additional protection and benefits.

There are a number of albinos present on campus, as to be expected. I happen to be fair enough upon arrival and even now to more than once hear, “Mambo, Albino!” in my direction. After I looked around I realized that I was the person the comment was directed at not someone behind me. I told a few of my friends about the incident and some of them laughed and others were concerned. I chalk the whole thing up to a case of mistaken identity.

With the situation and the violence against the minority albinos, it is a case of discrimination and misunderstanding. There is a simple case of genetics not a form of bewitchment or curse. That simple explanation makes the condition something that is manageable and preventable in a sense. Tanzania has a long way to go to curb the social suspicion and causes of violence against albinos.

I don’t know the best comparison to this kind of discrimination from my own culture though I’m sure cases exist. Obviously we’ve had racial discrimination but I don’t think such a widespread problem with discrimination based on a medical condition. I can say that there has been much legislation enacted to protect people with all kinds of disabilities.

The US has a decent system in place to help people with all kids of disabilities whether through financial support or occupational therapy and job modification to allow them to work. In Tanzania there is very little of this support in place. There are a few NGOs that work with physically handicapped people to give them marketable job skills.

To see a change in the way albinos are treated along with others who are considered disabled, it will take a socio-cultural change. These people are seen as something that is not to be valued and that they have no contribution to make because they are different. To instigate these changes, it is something that will take time and tolerance education. There is a need to lead people to an understanding that disabilities and differences are not always deficits.

Market Habits & Food

2008-12-07T11:58:00.000-08:00

Most people go food shopping everyday. Vegetables do not stay fresh for days on end without insect infestation. If a family wants meat for meal, it has to be purchased that day. Most families do not have the ability to preserve meat via refrigeration. It is a fairly new concept among families who can afford it.

Shopping is not only a necessary activity but also a social interaction. Virtually every transaction in the traditional market system requires that you talk with and to the vendor that you are purchasing from. Most people exhibit some vendor loyalty so that a relationship is formed with the vendor. Also, there are others out shopping in the market so interactions with friends and neighbors occur there.

Another contributing factor to the market seems to be that people generally work on a day by day basis. If a person only makes enough money to live day-to-day, then it makes sense that they cannot stockpile food. Once a person makes his/her wages for the day then it is possible to buy dinner and breakfast for the next morning.

It seems that income affects more than where you live and what you eat. It also affects how you eat. The rhythm of working, shopping, cooking and eating are all interconnected. Work leads to money that allows a person to shop for groceries then cook and eat them. Without working on any given day, some families are left without food to eat that night. Even if they do not go completely hungry, the amount of food available is significantly reduced.

Cooking is another part in this cycle. It is a time consuming process that is absolutely necessary. Eating out is expensive and for most families the cost of eating out one meal can feed them for several days. It in theory could be one person’s job to cook for a family. It could be an all day task.

The socioeconomic status I come from allows my family and me the luxury of shopping for a weeks worth of food at one time. We can buy meat and vegetables as well as other goods and preserve them for almost time indefinite. The concept of only having enough money for one meal at a time is something that I cannot even begin to conceptualize. I know that eating out at home and in Tanzania is expensive but I can still afford to eat out and still have money for meals the next day.

Food and cooking is a life necessity. The entire system here has challenged my concepts about the way I cook and eat and the way other people do those activities. It is a cornerstone to culture since eating is a necessary life sustaining activity. Food from region to region varies obviously as what is available in the region due to agricultural and climate conditions dictate. Regardless, people eat...when they have money. It may not be convenient or cheap but food is available. Tanzania doesn’t have food shortage from what I can see. The shortage is the funds for people to purchase food.

Children & Their ”Work”

2008-12-06T05:37:00.000-08:00

I see children working everywhere. Not just housework either. I see them selling peanuts on street corners and peddling newspapers to passersby. They sell candy of the ferry and shine shoes at the dala dala stand. These children are everywhere. Because I see then during school hours, I am left to assume that they are not attending school. They have been sent out by their families to earn a living or contribute to family household care. In rural areas, it is common to see children, young children, herding animals for the family, sometimes several kilometers from their house. I was astounded more than once to see a boy as young as five out herding goats all day. Frequently children are exposed to dangerous situations and subsistence through the work they perform

These families are dependant on the labor these small ones do whether it is the actual task they perform or the money they make. Poverty takes children out of school and away from an education that can defeat the cycle of poverty for them. It seems to be an unending cycle because if these children do not finish standard seven they are not eligible for vocational training programs or even a driver’s license. They stay in the cycle of poverty subsistence farming or running small businesses that provide meager income. They may make enough to feed themselves but not enough to improve their living condition or send their children to school. It is a perpetuating cycle. Intervention of some sort is needed. Who is to say what will be the best if anything will be effective.

There is an issue of child rights that comes into play in each of their work environments. Children are being put in dangerous and harmful situations. Their work environment is not only the things that are harmful; when children are out of the supervision of people who are responsible for them, they are more likely to be exploited by people who would take advantage of them. This leads to further harms and increases the likelihood of violence against them.

Child labor laws have been passed but enforcing them is a challenge...like many other laws here. There is not the value placed on an official childhood here. At home, many steps are taken to preserve then sanctity of childhood. Adults spend much of their time and energy to give children a childhood experience. Everything from toys to Little League is geared to extending and preserving childhood. There are still holes in the system, and children still can be exploited, but there is more of a safety net in place and far harsher punishments for those who would harm children.

Seeing more child protection in Tanzania is a matter of a perspective shift. Understanding why the current system is the way it is takes a cultural understanding that I can’t confirm that I have at this point. I’m not sure why children are put in dangerous labor situations and denied an education. My best guess is that it is all due to poverty. It seems to be the root cause and contributing factor to many of these situations where children are set-up to be in the poverty cycle for the rest of their lives. There are the few cases that break out of the mold but it seems to take an extraordinary outside factor to make it happen.

Medical Personnel & My Preferences: Social Constructs

2008-12-05T05:34:00.000-08:00

This is from awhile ago. After two doctors visits and multiple tests, it was concluded that I had a mild malaria infection. Nothing super serious but I had mild symptoms. I'll get tested again when I get home to be safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve been feeling kind of crappy for a few days. When I look at the timeline of my last run-in with a herd of mosquitoes along with the day I missed my anti-malarial dose, there is a chance I could be malarial. ICK! I’d rather catch it early than wait until my fever is ridiculous and I’m vomiting uncontrollably. I headed to the school health center. I briefly saw the doctor and he sent me for a malaria test. I had the little finger prick. It wasn’t a needle; it was a razor blade thing. The lab tech gashed my finger and smeared my blood on a slide. It was the most painful thing I have felt in a long time. After I nearly passed out, the results were in. I had a parasite count of 2. Not bad but officially malaria positive. I became a bit skeptical about the results when I saw how many other tests they did and the fact that my slide wasn’t marked. I wasn’t confident that the results hadn’t been mixed up. I was feeling bad, but I could explain it with other things. I decided to go to the IST Clinic to get retested.

On the way there, I found an interesting and slightly disturbing thought running through my brain. I want to go somewhere that I know I will be seen and asked questions about my care. I want to see a real doctor.” Having had several encounters with the student health center and a private Tanzanian-run hospital here, there is a lot I’ve taken for granted at home. I anticipate that I will be asked pertinent questions like, “What are your symptoms?,” “How long has this been going on?”, etc. Or after I have explained what is going on the practitioner asks follow-up questions to make sure that he/she has an accurate picture of what I described.

I’m at the place where my feeling awful has me looking for an answer and I’m finding myself wanting the system I know and one I feel will fix me. With this thought, every sociology lecture I’ve sat through this semester came rushing to my mind. My version of health care is my social construct where I have my expectations of what the practitioner should do and the things that I should do or say to help him/her treat me appropriately. Those same roles are no where near the same here. (Having written about this before, the important distinction that I think I need to make here is that this time around, I am seeing the situation from a broader social perspective not a comparison contrast of what I know.) The role of biomedicine is relatively new in Tanzania from a historical perspective. People are slowly coming into the system. The rural areas have made a slower leap towards modern medicine. Medical pluralism is still very common in the city as well as the rural communities. More people than will admit still see traditional healers for treatment. There are several seemingly vibrant practices not far from campus. The idea of an informed patient is not something that is embraced. The thought is that the doctors and nurses are the smart ones. It is the patient’s role to listen and do only what they are told. There is very little expectation for anything for much else than the doctor spending less than five minutes with you and sending you home with a large packet of pills. The expectations of lab tests and physical exams for anything else than obvious wounds are minimal at best. My brain has been programmed by years of treatment in the American system that when I go in with various systems, I will usually have some lab tests performed and a physical examination. The doctor is to play the role of detective not dictator of disease. It was and still is a challenge for me to see this system as well as be a patient it in without applying my cultural biases and expectations. This is further compounded by the amount of knowledge I have regarding the American medical system because of my major and personal interest.

10 Days!

2008-12-04T06:25:00.000-08:00

Hey All!
Just a little update...more journal entries to come soon!

I'll be home in little over a week....well back in Texas that is. It's crazy to think that this is almost over. I'm headed to Arusha in the morning. I'm meeting with some people about a development project ad delivering livestock. It should be exciting. Hopefully the rain has stopped and we can get to where we need to. Otherwise it is a 2 and a half hour hike in to the place and I'll be hering 5+ goats and a cow in the mud that might just pass my knees! It should be an adventure. When it's safe, I'll pull out the camera. :)

Take care until I see you all!

Student Unrest

2008-11-30T06:43:00.000-08:00

Its day three of the student strikes and I’m not feeling so comfortable being around campus. Sara and I took off for the morning. This has left me with lots of time to think about what is going on and why. As I keep reading the newspapers, each day there is a little more about why the students are striking. It’s far less hush hush than it was a week ago.

Loan money is at the center of the controversy. The students want the policy of cost sharing implemented a few years go by the government discontinued. As of today they are calling for the resignation of the Minster of Education over some of his policies.

So far things have been peaceful. I don’t trust that they will remain so. It’s easy for people who are frustrated to do things they otherwise wouldn’t when they are in a large group. I hope nothing happens but I don’t want to accidentally end up in the middle of something.

Watching all of this makes me thankful that we have student government systems in place at home to work closely with our universities so things rarely if ever get to this point.

While most people are focusing on the students themselves, I am thinking about the other people around campus this will impact. If the campus is closed the two large cafeterias will close leaving 60 or so people without a job. There are the duka owners who will close up shop because the foreign students cannot generate enough business for them to keep an income. The university will cut back on cleaning staff sending more people home without a job. Catering services cease in on campus cafes and dala dala drivers see decreased business because these former employees as well as students aren’t coming to campus daily.

The students striking have a huge economic impact on the community surrounding the university. The shutting of the university affects families across Dar as the breadwinners have to look elsewhere for work or business opportunities. In such a tight job market, those may be few and far between.

This whole thing is something I’ve been dreading since the topic first came up because someone would ask me how I feel about it. The truth is that I feel bad for the students, but it seems really unreasonable to ask an already heavily indebted government to foot the bill for even more of their education. I can see pouring money into fields where professionals are needed – teachers, nurses, engineers – those kinds of things, but is there a critical need for such a large group of sociologists or cultural heritage managers. I’m glad that people have the right to choose what they want to study, but is it the government’s responsibility to pay for your degree in art?

This brings up a whole other issue. Who is collection on the loans that have been paid out? From the people I’ve talked to there is little to no government follow through in this area. The firs round of students who got loan should be out of university now. It’s time they start paying back into the system so that money can be used for current students instead of the government “borrowing” from other budget sectors putting them further in debt.
I’m not enough of an economist or a business minded individual to completely understand the system but there seems to be so many hiccups. I have very little commentary left because the whole thing is frustrating because I watch my friends loose their chance at an education because the university is disrupted as well as see the government go further in debt giving loans with money they don’t have.

Kids will be Kids

2008-11-29T06:32:00.000-08:00

On my way to Kigamboni, I spotted the cutest little girl in the ferry terminal. She was three or four and decked out in a tattered pink party dress with yellow and red beads around her neck and ruffled socks on her feet. She was contentedly dancing around when she spotted her brother. She skipped over and hit him on the head and poked him in the ribs.

This scene could have taken place anywhere in where in the world. I just happened to see it in Tanzania. Kids are kids everywhere. They dance and sing for their own entertainment, play in their dirt, and pick on their siblings.

Culture dictates some actions with children though some behaviors are universal. Playing with the kids at Tumamoyo led to some of the same games I play with my preschool class at home. Language isn’t’ necessary to play the “I got your nose” game or peek-a-boo around a tree. It’s comforting to be halfway around the world at still be able to interact with some of the people I find most dear – children. They have a special place in my heart.

Watching these kids and others it is easy to see that kids have similar behavior everywhere. Despite cultural conditioning and parental preferences, there is still the urge to pick on a sibling or pick their nose in public. Seeing this makes my heart believe in the human condition. We all start out innocent and good. It is the environment we are raised in as well as personal choice that shape who we become.

The kids in Tanzania are as special as kids anywhere. Though the longer I am here, the more I see the need for improvements regarding their security, education, and healthcare. The government is making big improvements in education though the rural areas need more schools. Even more than schools built, the schools that exist need teachers. The country has a teacher shortage of an imaginable magnitude. In terms of security, it is a matter of child rights. There are families that are too poor to send their children to school so they work usually doing things that are dangerous for their small size or expose them to toxins such as house cleaning. There is not a system in place to remove children from excessively abusive parents or relatives either. The government is hesitant to step in because it is still seen as somewhat of a family issue. Healthcare is guaranteed to be free up to age five but what happens after that? Not a lot unless the families can afford it.

Even though I’m not the biggest fan of the way the government in the States handles welfare and child programs, there is at least more access here. It is our responsibility as adults to safeguard children to the best of our ability everywhere. They are the ones who will be next to lead the country and care for us when we are old.
I look forward to watching how the Tanzanian government and social system change during the course of my lifetime to be better protectors and advocates of children.

Branding – A Different Perspective

2008-11-28T06:23:00.000-08:00

When it comes to the influence of Western marketing and brands in Tanzania, some are more recognized than others. Phat Farm, Heineken, Coca Cola & Nieviea are well known. Dairy Queen is not.

My seminar professor came into the room last seminar wearing a polo shirt. The logo caught my eye. It was a Dairy Queen uniform shirt. I had a hard time taking him seriously after that. Growing up in a town where the dairy Queen is the local hangout and the ridicule of teenage employees I have a different perspective on this brand.

Some companies pour major dollars into advertising in Tanzania, namely beverage, tobacco and telecom companies. These are the respected and known. Had my professor known what logo he was wearing, my guess is that he wouldn’t have chosen that shirt from the market…or would he.

There are some things that I’ve seen on clothing that amaze me. People buy whatever they can afford and what they like in the market. There are some things that get printed on clothing that shouldn’t be allowed outside of the US. So many of the things that our pop culture puts out ends up on bodies here that have not idea what the shirt they are wearing really says. Most of these things end up here in the second hand clothing market.

Advertising avenues can be really bold in Tanzania. Businesses are panted in telecom company logos and colors. Temporary fences are plastered with ads. Bus tickets even have mini ads for beverage companies on them. Ads are everywhere but not in the same way as home. There are fewer billboards and variety of ads on television. There are only a few companies that advertise on television. Most of those are telecom are beverage companies and they have a broad client base and can appeal to those with more money to spend on luxuries like upgraded phone service and imported beer. The average round of ads is those plastered up at dala dala stop shelters and painted on buildings. I find the ones in the middle of the clock towers most interesting. It’s basically proclaiming, “The current time is XX:XX and go buy a Coke.” It was shocking to see at first because I expected the clock tower to be some sort of monument. In reality it’s a clock with an ad on it.

Advertising here as loud and colorful as it can be seems less intrusive because I have few brands being shouted loudly. The brands that can afford to advertise have respect with people and obviously are well known. Watching TV at home or reading a magazine, I see ads for hundreds of different types of products and they are all vying to catch my attention. Reflection on this I think they do because there are so many choices. Here it is easy to ignore ads because they are usually for Zain, Vodacom, Tigo, Coca Cola or some sort of beer. With little variety in product there is rarely something new to look at.

Where Clothes are Reborn

2008-11-27T05:47:00.000-08:00

During orientation at the Tengeru market, Chris and I took a walk. The part of the market we chose to explore was the clothing sector. There was aisle after aisle with tables piled high with all kids of clothing. There were stalls with only jeans, others children’s clothes and other stall selling undergarments and outerwear. The stalls seemed unending. I wondered if this was something unique to Tengeru. When we came to Dar Es Salaam, we visited an area called Big Brother. It is another open air clothing market selling second hand clothes from stores in the States, mostly. I found jeans that still had Value Village tags and jackets with Good Will labels. Tanzania is one of the places where unwanted clothing gets a second life.

When in Kiboroloni, I saw how these vendors end up with such large amounts of clothing. The items are bundled by type – pants, shirts, jackets, or category – women’s, children’s, and men’s – and then baled. They get covered with large feed sack type bags and banded like hay. The business owners buy the clothes by the bale and then are left to sell what ever is in the set. Some trading goes on between vendors.

The most fascinating things in the types of t-shirts I’ve seen. Some of the stranger ones include a Royal Canadian Mounted Police training camp shirt; another from Pacific Northwest Kinetics Center. My favorite though was the Hong Kong Jewish Center shirt. I keep hoping to see a Street Rock t-shirt, but I have yet to be so lucky. (Street Rock is a company I previously worked for. We screen printed our own shirts, too.)

Walking through big Brother or the market in Tengeru, I can see styles from years ago that are just making it here. Nothing seems to go out of style. Clots are worn until they are falling apart, usually after they’ve been passed on a few times. The pieces are then used to make other things or are tuned into rags. Very little goes to waste. There is not a disposable clothing market here.

I know already that I have to leave clothes behind to get my things to fit in my bags on the way home. I planned it that way. I know that whatever I leave will be used by someone for something.

While there is a fashion conscious segment of the population which is evident in more urban areas, the majority of people just need clothes in general. Ladies wear kangas over most everything. Men use the t-shirts, shorts and jeans for work. Second hand suits and dresses are donned by less well off people who need business attire for their jobs. Clothing is viewed as a necessity and not purchased as a luxury by most. There isn’t enough income to be fashion conscious. There are styles of dress that are more popular. By styles, I mean conservative over not so and lades will buy dresses almost any day over pants. Big sleeves and floral prints along with colors seem to be popular. Any dress that is lacy and frilly won’t last long in the shops as someone with snatch it up. Sunday mornings in church look like a boutique exploded. If you look carefully though you can see the alternations that have been made because sometimes the thread or zippers don’t match. Holes have been carefully stitched up. The dress is still worn because it is the best that they have.

It’s nice being in a place where cleanliness and tidy ness matter, not the label in your shirt.

It's really Thanksgiving?!?

2008-11-27T01:39:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving all!

Here things are just like any other day. Tanzania does not celebrate our Thanksgiving holiday. So far my plans include and exam and a paper to write today. Later tonight, I think I'm heading out for Chinese food and maybe a movie. I'll decide that later.

It's hard to believe that it is already Thanksgiving. That means that Christmas is just around the corner. I'll be home for Christmas but just before. I'll busy myself with baking as I've missed my round of Thanksgiving baking.

Have a fantastic holiday! I'll see all of you soon. My thoughts and prayers are with you on this holiday. Off to class and an exam...

Love & Stuff!

I am the swatter of death….

2008-11-26T05:11:00.000-08:00

“I am the thing of nightmares. I am the swatter of death. The thing you should fear in the night. I make death come silently and quick. I will stalk and smash your children. Buzz near and you shall meet your end.”

The previous was the monologue running through my head at 3am as I sat up in my hotel room in Morogoro swatting mosquitoes. I had checked into what seemed like a nice hotel. Unfortunately my mosquito net didn’t really fit the bed. It was an awkward size. It was either dragging on my face or my feet were sticking out. That left me huddled in the corner of my bet with my head lamp on the spiffy red light setting, newspaper in my right and cell phone in the left. I was texting home like mad as I sat up killing the bugs. Their buzzing so loud and bites so frequent that sleep was something I was dreaming about. On my way home as I worked to contain my scratching of the previous night’s attack, I had a run in with flies. They seem to have come out of everywhere. Just a few weeks ago, the occasional fanning motion over your plate was necessary to shoo away the unwanted diners. Now they are everywhere all of the time. It seems like they just popped up and they aren’t phased by swishing hands or ponytails. They sit and spit on my food and walk on my skin with their grubby little legs.

When I made it back to Dar, I saw the same problem. Watching the mzungu in the cafeteria is amusing. We are all swatting and fanning like crazy. I can only imagine what the Tanzanians are thinking. I rarely see them raise a hand to the pests They seem completely un-phased by the whole thing. In talking with Kate, we’ve decided that we need fly swatters and we are going on a rampage. Then we concluded that they would come reincarnate; they don’t really seem to die even when you squish them.

Having not grown up with many insects, I’m not so comfortable sharing my personal space with small vermin. When we did have a bug problem, there were sprays, candles, creams, nets, and swatters. The average person here just ignores the buzzing and continues on with their activities. I don’t know if I could ever be acclimated to that. I’m far more accepting than I was. I draw the line though at the fly trying to crawl down my drinking straw to seal some of my soda.

Insects are a part of life in Tanzania. Like a previously stated, there are some things I can tolerate. The baby termites that live in my desk have an agreement with me: they can walk along the wall and under the desk ledge but my bed is off limits. They seem fairly respectful of this. Occasionally there is a rogue who meets an early end. The homes I’ve visited are not necessarily proactive about insects either. When the ants are parading not the sink they get washed away. No pesticide is use. I think the mentality of they just will come back is prevalent. I’ve seen this to be true. I’ve sprayed my closet more than twice and I still have spiders that like the top shelf. I’ve just decided not to put things up there. Leave them alone and they leave me alone. Part of me misses the awful smell of insecticide once a month (the manager would come and spray our apartment when I was living at home). I felt a little safer opening cupboards and drawers. For now I keep dong the double check: first the handle, then look again. Then open the drawer gingerly.

Making A Living: The Art of Entrepreneurship

2008-11-25T04:48:00.000-08:00

Yesterday one of my professors made an interesting comment during lecture. She said “People are moving to the cities because they believe they can earn a living even if it is selling water.”

The number of street vendors, small business owners, and machingas is something I’ve thought about before. Her statement returned me to those thoughts.

Everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, there is someone selling something. Through bus windows and on street corners, there are people making a living by selling things almost anything you can imagine. I can buy a variety of things fro the guy strolling though an intersection with a box of merchandise on his head. If I put my arm out of a dala dala window at any stendi or major intersection at least two men will come up offering to sell me bottled water. It’s such a foreign thought that these men support themselves by selling bottle of cold water that they buy on credit to passersby all day long. It is such a meager subsistence. What happens if he has a family? Probably all of the able bodied adults in the house work to make something. I can’t help but wonder what if he can afford to send his children to school. If he or anyone in his family get sick, treatment from conventional health care is more than likely out of the question.

I have to applaud their ingenuity of these vendors as well as their tenacity. Any place there is an opportunity to sell goods, someone is. They work day after day in the rain and tropical sun peddling their wares to earn a living. These individuals have to make money everyday or there is no food on the table tomorrow. Savings are slim if present.

I remember my first retail job. It was awful! Sears and I should have never met. It’s not that I wasn’t good at it, but I was so bored. It took more energy to work a five hour shift at Sears than an eleven hour day at my previous job that was mentally demanding. If I had to make ends meet for the rest of my life selling things, I could do it because that’s what I had to do. I would be miserable. My version of retail was far more tame than this pattern here. At Sears I had to run the till, fold some shirts and put up with old men asking whether I liked their boxer or brief selection more.
In Tanzania retail sales, in the form of petty vendors and traders, are a whole different extreme. It is a never-ending cycle of sell goods and buy more stock to sell to pay off the debt to buy more inventory. It seems to be an endless system where it is hard to get far enough ahead to leave the system for something else. I’m sure it’s possible but unless you have a really hot commodity then financial help from family or fiends may be necessary to buy your way out and move on. It seems certainly possible to make a living, but what standard of living is afforded? It seems unfair to criticize the system when I have no other foreseeable alternative to fix it. It’s too big off a mess for me. I’ll stick to health care issues. Economics are over my head!

My Cross-Cultural Observation Specimen

2008-11-24T05:43:00.000-08:00

I witnessed the most interesting blend of cultures while I was in Game. Heading to the checkout with my laundry washing powder and chocolate bar, the lady who was walking the same direction became my cross cultural observation specimen. I was tempted to pull out a notebook and take notes but that could have been taken as rude or just plain weird. I’m already enough of an oddity.

She was dressed in designer jeans and nice blouse with a kanga tied around the top half of her jeans. Her newborn was strapped to her hop by a kanga sling characteristic of Tanzanian women, a diaper bag on her shoulder and carrying packages of diapers in her hands. This image I a bit confusing.

What I saw I interpreted like this: This is a woman in Tanzania’s emerging affluent middle class. She is combining her modern dress with traditional dress. Even though she chooses to use disposable diapers instead of a cloth diaper, she keeps with her culture in using the kanga to carry the baby. She chooses to carry a diaper bag for the baby’s things, something I’ve never seen other Tanzanian women do. Is it a symbol of affluence or convenience? I don’t know the contents of said bag so it is hard to comment.

I wonder how many more there are like her - women who are still tied to their upbringing yet have the ability to do something different. Does she have disagreements with her mother or mother-in-law about the way she cares for her baby because her choices differ from theirs? What does her husband say about her choices? Does he care if the child is raised with a more Western mindset or traditional? It seems fair to conclude that they are more likely than not to have more conveniences in their home and are able to afford better medical care. How did her pregnancy and delivery compare to other women in Tanzania? Does she breastfeed exclusively or did she decide for the pricy option of formula? I have more questions than I could ever ask. I’m just left to wonder and take mental notes until I can discreetly pull out my notebook.

The similarities I see are: She cares for her baby like any mother would. She keeps touching its cheek and adjusting its little hat. This baby looks happy and well care for. It’s cooing and looking content. Mom is with family who also periodically looks at and makes faces at the baby. They seem to want to be involved in the little one’s life.

Babies are babies everywhere. In reading my Developmental Psychology text, I’ve had a chance to explore parenting from a cultural perspective. It’s true that the culture in which this child is raised will more than likely make him/her more social and relationally oriented and generally more reserved. Universally, this baby will go through a phase of role playing to learn about the world and have to learn the dangers of stairs. It is seems so ordinary to see a baby yet it’s a wonder to watch them grow. This mom has the responsibility of guiding this child through life to figure out who he/she is in relationship to the world and his/her immediate family. It is up to this child’s parents like all parents to help their children shape their mindset and find their place in society regardless of the culture they come from.

Instant vs. Instant

2008-11-23T05:29:00.000-08:00

One of my lectures made an interesting comment a few days ago. He said something to the effect of “Tanzania has become an instant society. We have instant news, instant coffee and fast food.” I had to contain a chuckle. If he thinks that those tings in a Tanzanian context are “instant,” what does that make my corner of the world? The reality is “instant news” is CNN for half an hour broadcast a few times a day and local news nightly. “Instant coffee” is king of true; it the granules you dissolve in hot water. Fast food is a laughable concept. When I think about “instant” in this context it is CNN, MSNBC, and Fox available 24/7, Starbucks in less than three minutes, and McDonald’s with the goal of the minute and a half drive through. Instant is such a contextual word!

While the culture is changing in Tanzania to be faster paced and convenience oriented it is nothing compared to the hustle and bustle I left behind several months ago. Going home I am left to ponder how I will adjust back into this lifestyle. From what others have said it comes naturally. The bigger question is do I want to go back to this way of living? Tanzania has put the brakes on my personality in many ways. Waiting is something I am much better at now. Just today I stood for 20 minutes waiting for a dala dala. I would have never done that before. Here there is no other option so you just wait. It’s amazing how much time I can use up by just sitting and watching and thinking about nothing. It’s really relaxing.

With the speeding up of the Tanzanian lifestyle, especially in urban areas, it is causing a bit of a generation clash. These are to be expected as one group transitions with new technology and culture changes. Even so, this one seems to be a bit more pronounced. Young people walk around connected to their friends via cell phones and text messages. They are on the move to get places and see things. They are following more media trends in their lifestyle choices. Even though these changes are taking place I feel like they are happening in Tanzania more slowly than they have in other parts of the world. People, whether for reasons of apprehension or lack of finances, seem to be interested in the changes taking place in their society yet are slow to join in. It seems that the financial situation has a lot to do with it.

The average Tanzanian has no comparison point for the pace of life outside of Tanzania unless they have traveled there. There are few sub cultures based around workplaces, schools or community organizations that have adapted the Western pace. The biggest contributing factor to that is they still have to interact with the rest of Tanzania that is not on their timetable.

Going home the effects of my time in Tanzania on my scheduling and lifestyle remain to be seen. Will I take more time getting from place to place? Will I schedule back to back appointments leaving little room for deviation from my schedule? How will my friends and family react to my adjusted concept of time? I think all remains to be seen. It’ll have to be a re-entry blog.

Crusades in Developing Countires by Foreign Evangelists

2008-11-22T03:15:00.000-08:00

I’ve seen many ads since I’ve been in Tanzania for crusades by foreign evangelists. I don’t think that I like it. Mass crusades seem to play on individuals emotions and create converts without discipleship. In a country where so many claim to be Christian, it is tough to find someone who can explain the concept of salvation. Something more is needed. Discipleship is the thing that creates changed lives. It is frustrating to see so much money being spent on big crusades when the same amount could more efficiently be spent on pastors’ salaries so they can do more discipleship oriented activities. New converts need a personal connection to help their decision become a transformed life.

The same funds could also be spent on relief projects. Its been said over and over that people don’t care what you know unless they know how much you care. What better way to share your life and apply the teachings of the Gospel than meeting basic needs? Areas of education, healthcare, sanitation and food relief are all things that meet basic needs. People are far more receptive to a Gospel they see making a difference in their lives, without any strings attached, than they are to the overwhelming emotional push. If the goal is to create long term converts and not just feel good about ourselves for doing “mission work” then it’s time to do something that actually matters!

I happen to believe that the God I serve is one who loves us unconditionally and calls us as believers to serve each other in humility in love. It’s never ok to ask someone to change their beliefs in order to receive aid. That is manipulation and predatory not unconditional love and acceptance.

How different would Tanzania be if missionaries years ago had embraced more of that philosophy? Yes, many good things were done and are still being done though I still wonder. Allowing people to retain their cultural identity is possible and being a Christian. Being Westernized is not a symbol of salvation. The same philosophy has been repeated in countries around the world. The ethocentricism and ignorance of it are astounding. I think most of these errors were results of ignorance. People didn’t take the time to learn about the communities they wanted to evangelize. No life sharing and laboring together happened. It was a take over and mini brainwashing. In trying to do something good, great harm occurred.

Organizations still send out missionaries. In the past I was more in favor of it than I am now. I think the modern “missionary” should be one who goes with the expressed purpose of living a life that is an example to others. Out of that comes the opportunity to share your beliefs. Whether it be education, business, forestry or some other occupation, living and working among the people you are trying to reach is hard but the most rewarding and effective. The serious evangelism should be done by nationals. They already know the language and the culture. They have a level of trust with locals because they are a part of the community. So much can be accomplished with time and relationship. It is necessary to meet the call of the “Great Commission.” I hope this idea spreads. It is necessary to do what is best for those we are giving our lives for not what is self-serving.

I think Paul puts it beautifully in 1 Thessalonians 2:8-9 (NKJV) “… we were well pleased to impart to you not only the gospel of God, but also our own lives, because you had become dear to us. For you remember, brethren, our labor and toil; for laboring night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you, we preached to you the gospel of God.”

I think he had it right then. It is time to go back to this model and be effective!

The Survival Mentality

2008-11-21T02:57:00.000-08:00

This is from a few days ago. Today is the 24 day mark! I arrive back in Dallas for the long drive home so soon! I'll be back in Washington after the first of the year. Don't worry...you'll get to see me. After all I'll need help moving into the dorm. :) I'll even take you out for Chinese food afterwards. Let me know if you are on Team Move Shanea In!

Love you all!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In talking with my friend Sala, the other day, she made the comment that there are parts of Africa you never hear about. She wasn’t talking about forgotten districts or countries, but modern urban centers. Close to my dorm is a Western style shopping complex, Mlimani City, complete with department stores and a movie theater.

We were at Mlilmani City and she made the remark that she would have to bring her camera and take pictures because her family at home wouldn’t believe that this was really in Africa and so close to her.

We can go there, enjoy air conditioning and see the latest block buster. It is not so for most Tanzanians. The prices are beyond their means. There is the section of society though that embraces it as part of their regular lifestyle.

Mlimani City, this shopping center, isn’t far from people and communities where malnutrition and sickness happen more often than not and kids are denied an education because their parents can’t afford uniforms. It is the clash of income strata and cultures. The school I volunteered at is just behind the shopping center. I had students in my class that were told not to come back until they had better uniforms and others who were using pencil nubs because their families cannot or will not buy them pencils for class. A pencil barely costs a few hundred shillings the equivalent of thirty cents. One example, is a lady who does all of my tailoring and dress making. She lives in a one–room house with her niece that she is raising. They share a bed and cook in the alley behind their house. They have very little. Their small home is all she has. The front porch has been turned into her workshop where she sews for the neighborhood. She is a fortunate lady even with the little she has. She makes enough money to send her niece to school and keep a meager diet on the table. The people living further down the street are not so fortunate. The family there has older children who have left school to sell items on the street corner to help supplement the income for the family.

It’s such a contrast of worlds! There are luxury automobiles on the streets in downtown Dar. These weren’t things that I imagined or read about before coming here. The media portrays the image of everyone is starving and sick when it’s not completely true. There is most certainly an affluent minority.

Dar is like any other major city I’ve ever visited. There are very affluent areas and there are slums. It is easy to see the difference when you “cross the tracks.” Some of these areas are just as friendly as the more tourist friendly areas though others…let’s just say I ended up in one such place by accident and ended up fending off a would-be mugger. The worst parts of Dar still have cholera outbreaks because there is one pit toilet shared by four or five families and when it rains they drain it into the street.

The thing I remember here is that urban centers in the States may not have cholera outbreaks though there are entire communities that are modern slums. There are also rural communities that live in abject poverty and are the poorest of the poor. The biggest challenge for this group of impoverished people is that a large portion live in secluded communities and out of sight. They become people who are easy to forget. It’s hard to imagine that people in America still go hungry but they do. There was an article I read on the CNN website recently that highlighted the same issue. We are a wealthy nation yet we forget to care for the poorest of our poor. The challenging part is to help those who need the aid and screen out those who are able of taking care of themselves yet choose not to.

The Africa No One Talks About

2008-11-20T02:55:00.000-08:00

In talking with my friend Sala, the other day, she made the comment that there are parts of Africa you never hear about. She wasn’t talking about forgotten districts or countries, but modern urban centers. Close to my dorm is a Western style shopping complex, Mlimani City, complete with department stores and a movie theater. We were at Mlilmani City and she made the remark that she would have to bring her camera and take pictures because her family at home wouldn’t believe that this was really in Africa and so close to her.

We can go there, enjoy air conditioning and see the latest block buster. It is not so for most Tanzanians. The prices are beyond their means. There is the section of society though that embraces it as part of their regular lifestyle.

Mlimani City, this shopping center, isn’t far from people and communities where malnutrition and sickness happen more often than not and kids are denied an education because their parents can’t afford uniforms. It is the clash of income strata and cultures. The school I volunteered at is just behind the shopping center. I had students in my class that were told not to come back until they had better uniforms and others who were using pencil nubs because their families cannot or will not buy them pencils for class. A pencil barely costs a few hundred shillings the equivalent of thirty cents. One example, is a lady who does all of my tailoring and dress making. She lives in a one–room house with her niece that she is raising. They share a bed and cook in the alley behind their house. They have very little. Their small home is all she has. The front porch has been turned into her workshop where she sews for the neighborhood. She is a fortunate lady even with the little she has. She makes enough money to send her niece to school and keep a meager diet on the table. The people living further down the street are not so fortunate. The family there has older children who have left school to sell items on the street corner to help supplement the income for the family.

It’s such a contrast of worlds! There are luxury automobiles on the streets in downtown Dar. These weren’t things that I imagined or read about before coming here. The media portrays the image of everyone is starving and sick when it’s not completely true. There is most certainly an affluent minority.

Dar is like any other major city I’ve ever visited. There are very affluent areas and there are slums. It is easy to see the difference when you “cross the tracks.” Some of these areas are just as friendly as the more tourist friendly areas though others…let’s just say I ended up in one such place by accident and ended up fending off a would-be mugger. The worst parts of Dar still have cholera outbreaks because there is one pit toilet shared by four or five families and when it rains they drain it into the street.

The thing I remember here is that urban centers in the States may not have cholera outbreaks though there are entire communities that are modern slums. There are also rural communities that live in abject poverty and are the poorest of the poor. The biggest challenge for this group of impoverished people is that a large portion live in secluded communities and out of sight. They become people who are easy to forget. It’s hard to imagine that people in America still go hungry but they do. There was an article I read on the CNN website recently that highlighted the same issue. We are a wealthy nation yet we forget to care for the poorest of our poor. The challenging part is to help those who need the aid and screen out those who are able of taking care of themselves yet choose not to.

Election Day

2008-11-19T01:37:00.000-08:00

We decided at 6:30 in the morning to brave the monsoon and head to the embassy to watch the election results. It had been pouring buckets most of the night and the streets were flooded. We made the call and Obedi showed up 20 minutes later. The five of us piled into his taxi and headed for the embassy. A boat might have been more effective because of all of the roads and intersections that were flooded.

Once we arrived at the embassy, we were escorted into the main lobby of the building where the election party was in full swing. By the time we made it there CNN & MSNBC had called the race. “President-Elect Barack Obama” was scrolling across the bottom of the screen. We waited to hear both of the speeches. I was impressed by both and shed a few tears during both. I was secretly hoping that John McCain would win so I would probably be the only one cheering in the middle of the embassy party.

Making a point to be there for the election results was one of those life moments. If I hadn’t gone, I probably would have regretted it for a long time. It’s a story that is now mine. When I get asked in 20 years “where were you when you got the news of Barack Obama?” I can respond, “At the US embassy in Tanzania.” It’s a little more fun that “watching CNN at home.”

American politics leading up to the election was often a conversation topic with Tanzanians. The obvious candidate favorite was Obama. There were shirts declaring “Tanzanians for Obama,” kangas with his face on them, and plenty of newspaper space devoted to his campaign. Once people found out that I was American, they wanted to talk politics. Tanzanians are impressed that a black man could become President. “America must truly be a place where anything is possible” is something I’ve heard more than once.

Tanzanians are also interested in America because historically America has been interested in Tanzania. The US through USAID, mainly, sends millions of dollars to the country for relief and education programs. The Peace Corps sends volunteers to teach in the schools and work in the hospitals. There are also numerous mission organizations working in Tanzania in religion as well as healthcare and education. There is a definite connection of personnel and finances between the US and Tanzania. It makes sense that Tanzanians are interested in what happens with our government. The government is the one that approves the foreign aid budget and programs that fund so much of the work here directly via USAID and the Peace Corps, and indirectly via the World Food Programme and other UN affiliates.

There has been a bit of worry from some Tanzanians I’ve talked with. They are concerned that because of his Kenyan roots, he will cut funding to Tanzania and send the money to Kenya. Who knows at this point but they still like him.

Being a Recipient

2008-11-18T02:00:00.000-08:00

Going to Tumamoyo was a really great experience. I look forward to going again. We splint the kids into two groups for tutoring. I took the girls and Chris took the boys. My little ladies, Rose, Esther, Happy, and Farajhe were eager to get into their lessons. The thing I discovered first is that they are excellent listeners and are able to repeat nearly verbatim the things I would read aloud. It gives the appearance of the ability to read when in fact they cannot decipher the words. When I asked them to read the questions out loud, they could not. When they answer questions in their workbooks individually, they match the words from the questions with the words in the story and answer the next line because it is usually the answer to the question. When the next line wasn’t the answer, I discovered what was going on. These girls have a long way to go to be able to pass their exams. I know they can do it; it’s going to take a lot of work.

During their lessons the group from Citi Bank came. They were very late but we were happy they made it. The biggest gift they brought was a pick-up truck full of food – rice, beans, sugar, salt, milk, and cooking oil – to be distributed to the children’s families.

Watching the volunteers unload the food, I felt like and insider for the first time in a really long time. I knew what was going on. I wasn’t the one staring wide-eyes trying to understand the meaning of what I saw and figure it out. For a split second, I felt role reversal. I could see the situation with perspective of the people being helped, not the one coming to help. I felt so grateful because I had an understanding of that those bags of beans meant to those kids. It means one more decent meal to keep them healthier one more day. It is one more chance to take in important vitamins to keep bones and eyes strong.

I’ve seen a system that works at Tumamoyo. Those kids are eager to learn and get something more out of life for themselves. They want to learn and the Mama Mkubwas are committing to seeing them through.

This is not a system that would work at home. It relies too much on people knowing their neighbors and having a sense of community in a neighborhood. In Tanzania, and other places the Salvation Army has piloted, the curriculum, it works. Tumamoyo is one of those non-governmental organizations that work and is really effective. The board has found what works and is culturally appropriate and is applying it to get results. The cookie cutter approach of foreigners coming in with a plan didn’t happen. This group has grown into its own and decided to work within the boundaries of the culture it serves not make the people conform to a different set of values. From seeing the sometimes disastrous results of well meaning organizations I think that it would serve many of them well to step back and evaluate what works in the community versus what makes people feel good about their involvement in other places. Ultimately, humanitarian work isn’t about making workers and donors feel good it is about getting results to help the people the projects are intended for.

Update about Campus Life...I'm Back

2008-11-17T00:32:00.000-08:00

So classes are somewhat back in session today. I'm supposed to meet with my professors to set up new class times. Some of them will be quick intensives others like my textile class will sun weekly for the rest of the semester. I'm only here 27 more days so it isn't too terribly important how many classes I get in. As of now it won't be many.

I returned to campus Sunday afternoon after spending the weekend away. I went to Morogoro then to the beach. It was a relaxing weekend and I ate well. I've discovered that I travel on my stomach most of the time. If I know I'll get fed well, I'm there! i had the best lasagna I've had in a long time besides my own.

Coming home I was greeted by a closet full of spiders and a return case of the mildew/fungus. My suitcase contracted a growth in transit. I though I had eradicated it but apparently not. I'll be spending a large part of tonight cleaning out my closet and killing bugs.

Take care and keep your eyes peeled for a new set of posts about Morogoro to be coming soon!

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Post Blog Update:

I met with several of my professors so far - 3 of 4. They want to cram a semester's worth of material into 2 weeks. Intensives with each of them. My workload just skyrocketed. The nice part is my classes are small so I can ask questions. The hard part is that I have to be very prepared since in most cases there are fewer than 5 of us to generate the discussion after the lecture.

This has put a huge wrench in my plans to deliver the cows and goats to the boma as well as meet with the village leaders where I was hoping to help with the maternity ward construction next week as I have an exam scheduled for Monday. Grrrrr! I'm feeling a teeny bit of stress as all of this is mounting on top of my paper. I'm pretty far along in it but there is still lots to do.

Zanzibar: Idd Festival

2008-11-16T00:46:00.000-08:00

Our first night in Stonetown was the first night if the Idd celebrations. The community was celebrating the end of Ramadan, the period reflection and fasting for the Islamic community.
We headed over to the field, Mnazi Moja grounds, not far down from out hotel. From the outside it looked like any American street festival. There were tents everywhere, lights, and the smell of cooking food. Once I was inside the festival area, I saw similarities and differences. The similarities were pretty obvious. There were lots of children running around vendors of various kinds set-up selling all sorts of things. The main items for sale were food, specifically chipsi and kabobs, and lots of toys. There were no game booths and there were whole families playing together, dressed in their best clothes. All of the little girls were dressed up like princesses and brothers were dressed in little matching outfits. There was more sparkle on the ladies headscarves and dresses than a Vegas stage show. As we meandered through the festival grounds everyone was in a celebratory mood. Friendly smiling faces asked us over and over if this was our first Idd celebration. It was a nice evening out in Stonetown. It was a great chance to see interactions among families and the general community.

It felt safe and comfortable to be in the middle of this crowd. I’ve discovered that anywhere that children are present and safe, I feel safe. I enjoyed the time mixing and blending in a tiny bit. Most people were so busy with their celebrations that little attention was paid to us by adults. The children on the other hand were fascinated by the sight of three mzungu women walking through the crowd. They followed us asking for candy and money and giggling excitedly.

It felt a teeny bit like home too. I missed the Greek Festival and the Puyallup Fair this fall. It was my bit of the fall festivities. Not quite the same at home, but enough to help me not miss it so much.

This festival is one more piece of socialization that is used to reinforce cultural identity. Creating and reinforcing the culture and religious identity. The community seems to be really close knit. Part of that closeness is the shared occasions and close living quarters. When you live stacked on top of one another and squished in side by side, it is hard not to encounter people. In doing so you learn about their lives.

Current American suburbs have nice partitions that keep people from bumping into each other and communicating. It takes effort to cross the barriers. In Tanzania, and definitely in Stonetown, it is expected that you know your neighbors and communicate with them. The environment and culture are conducive to it.

Going home, and taking part oft his experience with me means making a point to chat with the girls who live on my floor, leaving my door open to invite passersby to say hello, and remembering important days and making them special. It isn’t something that is foreign to me. I know that recently, I’ve let life crowd out people and focus me on tasks. I want to be a relational person. Being in the situations reminds me that there is a different way to live.

Mori: Multiple Families & Polygamy

2008-11-15T00:49:00.000-08:00

Coming to Tanzania I knew that I would meet polygamous families. I didn’t quite understand the dynamics of the whole situation. In most cases the families I’ve meet don’t openly live with their multiple wives. The multiple wives live in different communities in the same area. The men rotate as they please and send finances occasionally to support the family. In the specific case I know the best, the other wives are aware of each other, though it is a bit of a chilly relationship. Most communities know that some men take more than one wife. I find the most fascinating cases to be the ones where the second or third wife was taken at the first wife’s request. She decided that there is more house or farm work than she wants to do or there are more children to be birthed and the first wife doesn’t want to have to do it.

The one specific family I met in Mori was the husband and the second wife. This wife had the younger children. The first wife lives several villages over and has an older set of children. These children have moved away and send money to their father that is supposed to do to their mother. The father uses the money to support the second family as he frequents the local bar to the children’s dismay. He took this second wife because he wanted to not because the first wife asked for him to.

The other family I met was more open with the living situation and the multiple wives. In the Maasai boma, the leader had three wives. All of them live in the same area. Their children play together and they socialize. The relationship among them seems far warmer than the other family. My guess is that it is more socially acceptable and open to have multiple wives in this culture. Even though the other group permits it, it isn’t as warmly received or the norm.

I think both of these are extreme examples of the spectrum of polygamy that exists in Tanzania. They are simply my experiences with the people I’ve met here. Both of these along with the monogamous couples I’ve met have provided an interesting insight to Tanzanian family relationships. Each of them are very unique though the culture is evident in the distribution of household labor and social roles.

Watching families here it is easy to see the expectation that even if the woman is employed outside of the home, she is to take a major role in domestic life, including cooking and cleaning. The women are also expected to play hostess while the man sits back and socializes or is not present.

I’m not sure exactly what conclusions to draw except that families at home have different interaction patterns as well as some similarities. It is more interesting to sit back and watch not analyze the situations. The most interesting families to watch are those who have adapted to more Western styles while still retaining a large amount of their traditional practices.

Mori: What's One More?

2008-11-14T06:50:00.000-08:00

In Mori, there are many families that have taken in children of relatives. This situation isn’t that uncommon in Tanzania. It’s is also something that regularly happens in Dar es Salaam. Relatives wanting something better for their children send them to the city to live with an uncle or cousin that has a decent paying job hoping that their child can get into a decent school and or get a job to make money for the family. There is also the absorption of orphans and abandoned children. In Mori we met a great little grandmotherly lady who has taken in several of her grandchildren because the parents, either because of death or finances, could no longer support them or wanted them. She in one on thousands across Tanzania and Africa as a whole that has done this. It is this philosophy that expands families and illustrates the importance of family connection and networks. This is such a family oriented society. Almost anyone can tell you a long list of people they are related to. It is this system that keeps many children out of orphanages and off of the streets. The hardest part to see is the problem with HIV/AIDS and the number of children left behind. These extended family networks are strained at the amount of children that are being left. Then there are those who have no one to turn to. They end up being street children.

The extended family concept proves useful for university students too. My roommate is from Dodoma. She didn’t have a room at the university immediately. She stayed with her uncle in town who was able to accommodate her for several months until the University Housing Authority gave her a room assignment. Her extended family network made it possible for her to go to school even though the university could not accommodate her at the time. I don’t know if that is something that most people in the US have the ability to do. Even if there is a relative that lives close, whether or not they would take you in would be the question.

This concept of extended family is something that is challenging the traditional orphanage/children’s home model in Tanzania. For years NGOs, specifically churches, have set-up shelters and homes for orphaned children. These centers provide a standard of living, in most cases, beyond the village norm and standard. When these children become legal adults at 18 they are put out of the home and back into a life they haven’t known for years. This system is failing these children by failing to prepare them for real life. The extended family network needs to be utilized and supported instead of the shelter system. There are one or two organizations currently using this system, though it should be the focus of more programs. At this point those using this system of support or the extended family in the form of counselors and school fees for the “displaced” children have seen major successes.

Looking at these types of programs that challenge the traditional “help the orphan” mentality is an issue that needs to be addressed by foreign donors. It’s not about doing what feels good for us; it is about addressing the real needs of children and preparing them for adult life.

Strikes & Closed Univeristy

2008-11-13T04:37:00.000-08:00

Hey All!

Just a little update. I'll be writing more about this all as I have time to process it and access to an Internet connection.

After three days of student strikes, the University closed to Tanzanian students. They had four hours to clear their rooms and leave campus or face military removal. It was interesting. I was off campus when it happened so I came back to a ghost town and a line of cars trying to clear security.

My program coordinator called last night and asked us to leave campus until we were assured that it is safer than it is now. I'm in Morogoro as I type this. More travel to come.

For now, we don't have classes. Supposedly they are to continue on Monday. We'll see about that. It could be an independent study semester. I can keep myself busy with my research paper.

Well I'll write more as I know more. Until them enjoy my posts about "normal" life in Tanzania!

Mori: Remembering the Dead

2008-11-12T07:00:00.000-08:00

Everyplace we visited in Mori either on the way or once we got to the place, the first thing we did was visit the graves. We were required to take plant clippings from nearby plans and place them in the planter onto of the grave. It was easy to see who had been buried the longest by the amount of vegetation on the grave. The one time we came close to forgetting, it was a big deal. We had already left for our walk. We had to go back and place the plants and pay our respects. The other important aspect was placing the clippings in the order which the people had passed away – the most recent death was honored last. Unfortunately, some of the graves we visited were only weeks old. Most of them were close to the family homesteads that we visited. Others were in remote parts that were once settled, but have since been abandoned. These plots were far off of the normal path and required quite a trek to reach them. It was necessary though since the people buried there were relatives of the people we were visiting.

It is an important custom to pay this respect to passed family members. It seems that the people we were visiting had a deep respect for what the legacy their family left. By honoring where they come from, the also carve out an identity for who they are now. I think some of it stems from their pre-Christian heritage. The stories of these people are passed on from one group to another. In this small community, most of which does not have electricity, entertainment is in the form of stories. Not so much formal storytelling that comes to mind, but stories that are shared as part of everyday life. There is a ceremonial aspect as well. Whether it is wearing a funeral kanga to mark the passing of a loved one or the planting of vegetation on the grave, it is a way to commemorate the contribution left and reinforce the linage.

There is not the same culture at home. As strange as this may sound the main objection I have to being buried when I die is that in 20 or 30 years someone will still be coming to leave flowers. Based on trends I’ve seen that is a virtual impossibility. I’ve been out to visit the site of the last funeral I officiated. As sweet as that lady was, it looked like no one had been out there in a while. There is not the same respect paid the passed loved ones as here. Another factor that plays into this in my culture is that the places people are buried are usually far from where their relatives live as opposed to being close to where their family lives. It requires a special trip to visit the burial site. Instead of visiting the place where the loved one is buried, stories and photos can be used to share the person’s life. There is even a different perspective on death. It is seen as finality and something negative. In Tanzania culture, death seems to be seen as part of life, an inevitability that comes after a long life. Though this even that seems to be changing as HIV/AIDS infections rise. American culture seems for forward looking compared to Tanzanian culture. It seems like the majority of each generation sets out to do it better than the one before without taking the item to reflect on what could be learned from those who have gone before us.

A Village Perspective on Female Circumcision

2008-11-10T05:01:00.000-08:00

Just a heads up...the following entry contains discussion of adult subject matter and medical prodecures. Please use judgement when sharing with others.
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In my Society, Culture and Health class, the topic of female circumcision, also known as female genital mutilation, came up. My professor shared with us this case study and village view point before we began our discussion into the dimensions of health:

There is a set of villages in Tanzania who still practice female circumcision. When they are asked what the significance is of this act, there is a surprising answer. They believe that all people are born as men. The differentiation occurs when the women are circumcised. They believe that if the clitoris is not removed then it would grow out to become a small penis, and the entire village would be male.

In looking at the trend to stop female circumcision because of the medical complications and reduced quality of life that goes along with it, the cultural implications must also be taken into account. Changing the ritual of circumcision means confronting years of tradition and family experience. Circumcision is seen as a rite of passage and a definition of a woman’s place in the community. For these communities if female circumcision is stopped, there needs to be another cultural practice put in place. Otherwise the traditional roles of men and women will be confused in addition to changing marriage patterns. The men would object to marrying uncircumcised women because technically, from their viewpoint, they are still male.

What I’m familiar with regarding female circumcision is the gruesome accounts and horrifying results of the procedure. I’ve never been presented with the reasons why cultures have practiced female circumcision historically other than men wanting to exercise control over women. Yes, female circumcision can and does have horrific side effects and outcomes for women. On the other hand, it’s more about culture and less about brutality in more cases than not.

When female circumcision is removed form a community a new rite of passage needs to be instituted so less culture impact is felt. It is tradition and ritual that holds many communities together. The harm needs to be diffused with education from respected sources in the community and the idea of a small culture needs to be embraced.

My viewpoint as an outsider and me who has not and will not be circumcised is more or less a subjective analysis because I cannot even imagine or undergoing such a procedure. Having researched women’s issues in Tanzania and other countries, I am a definite advocate against female circumcision because of its repercussions. Knowing all of this though, I have to acknowledge that it will be something that is hard to eliminate. As a future healthcare provider, I will inevitably see patients who have undergone the procedure. There is a chance that I could end up working in a community that insists on practice in this in the future. How am I to persuade them to change their behavior when generations of women have undergone the procedure and have had little to no negative impact? (Yes, I have previously stated the horrors of this. There are ways to make the procedure “safer” reducing the risk of infection and proper stitching to avoid future tearing during intercourse and childbirth. That does not negate other side effects though which will not be discussed here. If you have questions, please e-mail me and we can discuss it that way.) This task calls on me has a health care professional and cultural learner to find a way to help diffuse the harm without removing identity. It is easy to say that it needs to be done by someone. It’s a completely different task when you think about it in terms of “How would I handle it?”

Scary Stacks

2008-11-08T05:00:00.000-08:00

Printed materials have their own unique value. The library at the university is fairly scarce on virtually everything except East African History. Since my research paper is about healthcare, I have become familiar with the science collection. I consulted the card catalog, the kind with 3x5 cards, and was greeted by spiders. The next time I went to the library the power was back on so I consulted the computerized catalog. When my key word search yielded only five books, I tried multiple other word combinations. None of them turned up anything better. I decided to try and find the area that the few books I turned up might be. After combing row after row of dusty mis-shelved and unlabeled books, I gave up looking for anything specific. I found a section that looked promising. I skimmed the ten or twelve shelves reading titles and synopsis to find books that may be useful for my paper. I was excited to find an entire shelf of World Health Organization manuals on various subjects. When I looked at the copyright dates, 1986 – 1989, they were reshelved. The only other semi-recent publication was copies of the American Journal of Public Health from 2003.

Printed resources are necessary for learning in the Western education system. I think that I started write book reports in the third grade. Current teachers in Tanzania see little value in books. The mentality is that they made it through school without books, why are they necessary now.

My professors assign readings for books that are supposed to be in the library yet there is one copy that has been lifted by previous year’s students. There are four card catalog computers available for 15,000 students. It is common to spend more time looking for books than actually reading them. At this point I have yet to find any of the books that I need for any of my classes. The books I need are MIA. The few readings I have been able to get my hands on are from the professor’s personal collection and they have been photocopied.

Going home I have a new appreciation for the Mordvelt collection at PLU. I will complain less about the cost of books. Buying books means I don’t have to violate international copyright laws. Here students, when they find books, are expected to photo copy whole volumes of texts. It is hard on my conscience.

Students here are supposedly attending one of the best universities in East Africa and most of them can’t get their books for assigned readings. What is available in most cases in horribly out of date. For example, in my Sociology of Development class, all of the texts cited on the syllabus as references are from pre-1980. On the issue of development there are certainly more contemporary writings. Students and professors can’t get them here. They are either too expensive or just unavailable. Most of the departments have little to no budget for curriculum development and text purchases. More than one account has been given of professors that come to the US on the LCCT exchange and spend their money on books to bring back and not much else because there is such a lack of information.

This is challenging thought when this university is putting out professionals that aren’t even reading up-to-date journals.

Feeling Pretty

2008-11-06T06:45:00.000-08:00

I’ve reached the ”hump” mark in my trip. As much as I love Tanzania, there are a few things I am really missing. I the past few days I’ve been thinking a bit about one particular topic and numerous other female international students have made the same remark to me: “It has been a long time since I’ve felt pretty.” It is generally in the context of having the opportunity and the necessary elements to dress up and such. I put on my nicer clothes to go to church, but it’s not the same. I miss being able to do something with my hair besides put it up in a pony tail or a bun. I miss my favorite bottle of perfume and pearls. I know all of those things will be there when I get home, though coming from a lifestyle that allows me to have the opportunity to get dressed up I am missing it.

It is possible to feel “attractive” because you get attention as a white female in Tanzania. The attention for being the exception to the norm doesn’t make me feel pretty. Here I guess I should define “pretty” and “attractive.” Pretty is when you feel good about yourself and you do it for you only. The “attractive” term is when someone else notices or you spend time courting to receive attention externally. These are my definitions for the context of this discussion.

There are definite standards for female behavior and dress on campus. The majority of the ladies conform to the social norm. Most of the international students including myself don’t dress nearly as nice and the girls on campus. Generally, I don’t care too much. My feet hurt just watching them hike all over campus in heels. The conditions here are not very conducive to me wanting to dress in uber fashionable wear and stylish shoes everyday. I’m more of a functional gal. Without dressing in the same manner, the majority of us still seem to attract attention because we obviously stick out. The things that are considered “in” here are several seasons off what is popular in the States or would never even be fashion appropriate. It is a sight to see sometimes. Their style of dress does not take me away from what I’ve grown up with at home. It seems that a fashion bug has swept the younger girls around the area. It is such an issue that some of them give up meals in order to have the money to buy the “in” clothes and accessories. Other young ladies take up the company of older men or other male students in order for them to foot the bill for their fashion needs.

The broad culture, American fashion, puts major emphasis on the styles and appearance of young women. The community I come from takes a bit of a different approach, but there is still the opportunity and expectation of a certain level of dress. Realizing how much I miss some of my little personal treats is a bit surprising to me. I’ve apparently internalized more of the culture values that I thought. It seems that I haven’t had the occasion before to think about it. I am comfortable with who I am and the image I present in Tanzania. I am more conservative than most of my cohort of international students as a whole and I wear trousers more often. This has been a point of much discussion. I am stuck though by my little routines that I’ve used to feel better about my personal appearance. More than once here when I’ve gone to do interview for my research paper, I’ve caught myself wishing for my favorite heels and dress suit.

Zanzibar: Eye to Eye with the Fish

2008-11-05T06:42:00.000-08:00

This is the first in a series about my trip to Zanzibar I took in early October. I have a few photos up. Unfortunatley the ones from described in the following entry were not usable as the underwater camera malfunctioned. Grrrrr! More to come about Zanzibar soon!
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Snorkeling in Zanzibar was amazing! The ocean was really choppy and I bobbed around like a cork. It was so nice. The Indian Ocean was warm and smooth, yet saltier than I expected. The first place we went was called The Aquarium. It is a huge circular reef inside of a depression. There were lots of fish to see. I never knew that purple and turquoise striped fish existed, but I saw them with my own eyes. The mist interesting discovery squished between my fingers. There were tiny jelly fish blobs in the water. The ones I touched didn’t sting though. They felt like a cross between Jell-O and snot. Because the waves were strong I could glide along and see new coral growth on the reef after years of dynamite fishing without fining much. The line greens were brilliant and the schools of small sliver fish were shimmering.

Our second spot was on another reef about 30 minutes by boat away. Here the waves were even stronger. It was hard to keep a course fining along. If I stopped for even a second I was off course. This was the length of the trip that exhausted me. This trail had great sea cucumbers and brightly colored starfish. There were also this nifty black fish that had a peacock feather pattern on its back fin in orange and yellow. There were also lots of black spiny sea slug type things. Depth perception in water is tricky. More than once the waves pushed me over large sponge coral. In my fear of harming them with my fins because they were so close, or so I thought, I spread out snow angel style to let the waves carry me over the corals. We were hoping to see turtles but after much swimming, they were no where to be found.

I was really pleased with the company we chose. One Ocean is a top rated PADI dive center. They were professional and reasonably prices. The others from our group who went snorkeling decided to rent a boat from a guy on the beach. I suggested that they not do it because of safety and environmental concerns. I know with One Ocean they are responsible and accountable for the environmental impact they cause. They also have emergency network services and safety training. The guy from the beach has none of these things. It is an issue of being responsible to your customers and being a safe citizen. The guy is probably just trying to feed his family but the ethics I question. He is taking responsibility for people he has no ability to help in an emergency. While the other group was out the next day, I was worried. If something went wrong no one knew where they were. There is also the issue of environmental responsibility.

With such a fragile ecosystem it makes sense to invest in companies who are caring for it. In running this type of business, it is necessary to honor the need to protect the environment because without it there is no business.

The coolest part of my snorkeling adventure was not the mild seasickness. It was my encounter with a black bug-eyed fish. His shimmering scales caught my eyes. I paused fining to stare at him to see what he was doing. This fish looked me in the eye as I slowly passed over. It was an Old West style showdown. I’d hardly call it fair though as I was 20 times his size. I can only wonder what crossed it’s mid as it swam away.

I hope this amazing reef is protected for ears to come and continues to flourish. So many other people need to see this type of environment to understand the need to protect it and do something about the warming of the world’s oceans. The littlest temperature change can kill off species and allow others to thrive throwing off the natural balance of the ecosystem. I’m not a big Save the World shouter, but there is a definitely need for the US as well as other countries and us as individuals to set-up and reduce pollution. Whether it is green house gas emissions or water pollution that affects the world’s waterways, it is our individual responsibility to do something about it. I might not be able to change the nation’s perspective or behavior but I can change mine.

Educating the Deaf

2008-11-04T09:30:00.000-08:00

This morning I met the one sign interpreter employed by UDSM. He has two students that he is responsible for. This is the first year that the university has provided accommodation for hearing impaired students. In talking with him, we discussed the deaf education program in Tanzania. There really isn’t one. There is a shortage of interpreters because there is no where in Africa to be trained as an interpreter. There is very little access for most deaf children to learn sign. If they do learn sign there are no interpreters available in the public school system and very few interpreters for hire if the parents can afford it. The deaf children, who are completely capable in every other way, are forever at an educational disadvantage because they start behind in the educational system. Only recently has there been any action directed at educating deaf children in the traditional education system.

From what Thomas told me, any of the training that has been done has been from American interpreters that want to increase hearing impaired education in Tanzania. Of the children I’ve met in Tanzania that are hearing impaired, only one has had a cochlear implant, a surgically inserted hearing aid. I have no idea what it costs here, but I’m sure that only the wealthiest families can afford the procedure and maintenance along with the doctor’s fees. I have to wonder if families with hearing impaired children in rural areas even know that there is such a procedure available to help their children regain their hearing.

In the US, the public school system is required to provide accommodation to special needs students whether it is in class interpreters or special classes. The health system from the time a disability is discovered accommodations are made and information provided to help parents help their children. There are play groups to teach toddlers and parents sign language.

The changes in educating special needs children in Tanzania are slow coming, but they are coming. So far great strides have been made in educating the blind. Even the university is accommodating many blind students. The hard part to watch is the number of students that are being excluded from the educational system now. The government is making slow strides in legislation and funding for special needs education and funding for educational programs. The problem is not only with visually and hearing impaired children, it is for children and adults with physical disabilities as well. There is little assistance for anyone with disabilities. There are few options for employment. Many disabled people are reduced to begging.

Oh the smells!

2008-11-03T06:15:00.000-08:00

It's been three days now and the whole of Dar Es salaam is without water. A main pump on the river where Dar gets it's water from had a major mechanical failure. It's been interesting. We've been without water before. In that case you go to the emergency tanks downstairs and fill your bucket. Now there isn't even that water. It's been used or diverted to health care facilities. I've learned how to take a shower with less than 2 quarts of water. The smells are stacking up. We're our of our reserve water to flush the toilets. It's been an adventure. One of the girls on my floor has malaria...the kind with vomiting and such. No flushing here. I miss air freshener and running water.

It should be back on in a few days. Until then the whole city is in need of a shower.

Mori: Meaning of a Bride Price

2008-11-03T05:28:00.000-08:00

I’ve heard so many jokes and references it bride prices since I’ve been in Tanzania that I’ve lost count. Some of them were from others outside of our group. Admittedly most of it is internal and a bit of a running joke as to “our value” when approached by men. It provides for interesting conversation as to what our “worth” is. I’ve always viewed the bride price and buying a wife or a woman who does housework for you and keeps your bed warm without any real relationship.

After discussing it with women who have been part of negotiations for the bride price for their relatives I have a different perspective. The process of negotiating a bride price involved getting commitments from the family of the groom in term of items or finances. These items are not what determine the bride’s worth as a person. These items show the commitment of the families to support the union and the children it produces. If even one family member has reservations about the marriage, their potion of the bride price can be withheld as a sign of disapproval or concern. From what I was told, the bride and groom can go ahead and get married, if they choose, but it is seen as an unwise choice. They risk not having support for their children in the form of land and a family inheritance. This becomes a serious issue for the couple. This relationship and exchange in the form on a bride price seals the two families together. One lady I spoke with said that divorce would be a mess because of the things that would have to be returned. Also, the children of the marriage become part of the husband’s family. Since children are your retirement plan and long life insurance, loosing those children in a divorce is a very undesirable outcome.

The exchange of this bride is the melding of two families. It is seen like that at home too, though here it takes on a whole different dimension of permanent. I have to wonder if more families were involved in the marriages I’ve known that haven’t made it, would the outcome be different. The people who know you best are your family. They, usually, can provide the best insight into situations and provide and outside perspective that is necessary.

As much as the bride price is part of the culture, it is something that is also subject to change as the time change. Once fathers may have requested livestock, now cars could be requested. Some families make the bride price as a symbolic gesture and honor to tradition without actually expecting huge sums.

In places where a large bride price is still expected and young men have much haste to get married; there is a way around the system. The young man “kidnaps” the girl of his choice. Of course, usually she is in on the plot too. The next morning you send word to the girl’s parents and your relatives that she is OK and negotiations being. Usually the man’s family frowns on this act because they are left to pay virtually whatever the bride’s family demands as she has already been taken.

As much protection this system seems to offer the new couple, I can’t imagine having to begin or be in one of the conversations for one of my relatives. I think it would be even more nerve wracking if it was about me.

Mori: Tourism, Porters, and Kilimanjaro

2008-11-02T07:22:00.000-08:00

We hiked up to the entrance of Kilimanjaro National Park today. It was a bit of a hike up from the hotel we started at to the park gates. It wasn’t so far as it was steep and a bit of a rough path. All long the way the children were shouting “Hellos” and “Jambos.” It was a very scenic trip thought I could definitely feel the altitude. Our guide kept telling us “Pole, pole!” We were eager to get up to the views.

Once we made it to the park and through the gate, I saw a crowd of men standing at the far end of the park. Our guide said that the men that were waiting were porters that were waiting for new groups of would-be climbers to come through the park so they could have work. Some of them wait several days before they get a job. Once they are hired they are gone for at least five days. Ideally the climb should take seven to be as safe as possible for the climbers and staff. I was amazed to see the way the majority of these men are dressed. T-shirts and jeans with second hand tennis shoes or sandals with a ball cap were the normal outfit. I saw no sign of appropriate footwear or warmer clothes as it is below freezing at tow of the last stops on the way to the summit. The bags they were carrying for the most part were sports duffels. They would put the handles over their shoulders like back pack straps. Even the luggage was substandard. These men were climbing without adequate gear. The only thing that is a bit redeeming is that on the Marangu side, there is a paved path up to one of the mid range huts/overnight camps. It is used by the porters instead of the mountain path. It is also used by emergency vehicles in the event a climber is injured or requires immediate evacuation. He or she can be brought down to the summit fairly quickly.

The porters are limited to the amount of weight they can carry. On their way through the gate their loads are weighed. The porters are only allowed to carry a specific weight limit (50 kg?). The guidelines were established to protect the porters. Many people were willing to pay extra for the porters to carry additional weight reducing the cost of additional porters. Many of them were being injured this way. After several years of hauling bags that were too heavy, they incurred back injuries that prevent them from working anymore in other labor. Many porters have been injured working on the mountain. They make good wages for a few years then they are crippled for the remainder of their lives. The increased income they made by carrying extra weight becomes pointless.

The park is on the side of the mountain known as Marangu. The Marangu route is known as the Coca-Cola route because of the number of tourists that go up to the summit that way. Machingas sell souvenirs to tourists. There are many small eateries and guest houses just outside of the gate as well. I met several girls who made a summit attempt and the one thing they mentioned several times was how crowded the route up was.

There is a definite influx of tourists’ dollars into the community and there is money to be made for anyone who is willing to work with the tourists in pre or post trip services as well as those who work on the hike up and back. As challenging as it is to see what seems like the exploitations of locals, the communities around the area are dependent on tourists for money, labor and the tax revenue they generate. Tourists need the services and the communities need the labor. Without the cash generated many of the individuals who run small businesses would be subsistence farmers or own small shops eking out a living selling goods to their surrounding community.

The porter situation seems like a bit of the day laborer set-up in some area of the states before all of the immigration reforms and crack downs. Workers would wait in a public place, gas station or restaurant, for people to come through and hire them for the day for yard work or construction. At least in the case of the porters, there is a bit of a protection system set-up.

My Experience with the Tanzanian Health Care System

2008-10-30T06:02:00.000-07:00

I recently had my first and hopefully only experience with the Tanzanian health care system. It started at the University Health Services Clinic. When I made it in to the office to be seen by the doctor, I was asked to describe my condition. On my description only I was referred to Mikocheni Hospital. I made it there after a bit of a journey Friday afternoon, only to be asked to come back in the morning. Saturday I returned to the hospital and checked in. I waited for awhile. I knew the doctor was in but I didn’t know how I would know it was my turn. I waited for about an hour and a half before the other ladies waiting by the door motioned me in. I sat down at another desk to describe what was going on. The doctor, the Director General of the hospital, took my word for it and sent me to another nurse who would take me to “the theater” to take care of my issue.

I was led into the next building and up a bunch of stairs to a hospital room. After about a half an hour a nurse came in to get my papers. At this point I had a million questions, none of which the nurse would answer. She kept demanding that I sign the papers. When I wouldn’t she would leave the room and come back fifteen minutes later telling me to sign the papers again and not answering my questions. More than once I tried to leave. She kept telling me “Don’t Worry!” Eventually I ended up wrapped in a sheet, sitting in a room alone for about an hour.

As I was about to be put under anesthesia, I realized how many things hadn’t been done. I had not been weighed, asked about current allergies or medications, or even examined. I was about to have a surgical procedure done without ever being examined before I was put on the table. Before I knew it I was out cold and then waking up with my feet hanging off the end of the stretcher being rolled into the recovery room. A bit later I was more conscious, I looked about and had to try to remember where I was. A few minutes later Chris showed up. It was nice to see a friendly face after a day of confusion, pain and tears.

My experience was so differenct from anything I’ve ever experienced or will ever experience in the states. There were so many procedures and protocols what were not followed that I am accustomed to. At one point I contemplated writing my allergies on my chest in Sharpie because it is the one writing instrument I had in my purse. Coming into the Tanzanian healthcare system, I brought with me all of my previous experience and ideas about what type of care I should receive and how I should be treated. None my expectations or preconceptions about how I would be treated as a patient were honored. The whole process does not encourage patients to be informed about their own health and ask questions about their treatment. On the whole as different as the system is it works for the majority of the people here. The viewpoint is just so different. At home, patients are encouraged to be informed about their own health and ask questions to be somewhat in charge of their own health. Patients in Tanzania take the doctor’s word as law. My doctor and nurses didn’t know what to think when I was asking questions. They weren’t willing to provide information only reassurance. It wasn’t a language barrier either. My doctor spoke English very well. He seemed uncomfortable answering the questions I had. He only provided reassurance that I would be OK and the staff could handle my situation.

Since I hope to one day work with the Tanzanian healthcare system, it was a good experience for me to be a patient. I have a new appreciation for what I know and love at home in my University Health Center.

A Really Boring Update

2008-10-21T05:20:00.000-07:00

Hey All!

I know it's been awhile since I've put up a post. I've been a bit under the weather and life on campus has been really busy since all of my classes are running now. I'm working out the last of the scheduling conflicts. There will be lots of interesting reading to come including my encounter with the Tanzanian health care system. Yes I'm OK now...it will be a fun story to tell. Miss you all! Thanks for the comments!

Hair

2008-10-16T03:52:00.000-07:00

Having more than an inch of hair here is the exception not the norm. Men and women both generally keep their hair short. In Dar es Salaam, I see more women wit longer hair or extensions than I have in other places. It is quite common to see little girls and boys with their hair shorn short. To tell boys from girls in my class I have to look at what they are wearing – girls in skirts and boys in shorts.

Me, having long hair, is a conversation starter. I’ve been asked, “why don’t you cut your hair?” and “how do you get it to grow so long?” among others. I’ve discovered that in crowded places like markets, it is best if I wear it up in a bun or I get the occasional tug from the curious passerby or the school girl who was dared by her friends. I’m not sure if the tugging is to feel it or to see if it is a wig. Either way it is not something I will get used to. While in Mori, Mama Macha’s wifi, sister-in-law, who is a deaf mute even gestured to me that I needed a hair cut. She had only seen it up in a bun. When I took it down, as now it is past my shoulders, she was amazed and gestured even more excitedly that I needed a hair cut. My head should look like hers with hair that was barely noticeable.

Most of the women in Mori wore some sort of head covering, especially headscarves all of the time. IN church this was a definite trend. I think I only saw one or two uncovered heads. The rest were intricately wrapped in printed kangas, sparkly scarves or tattered dress hats. The need to feel pretty is universal and whatever mechanism is available to enhance beauty to a cultural or personal standard will be employed. I use my hair as a decoration per se. It is something that I spend time on to enhance my appearance. Without hair, the ladies use their headscarves for the same reason.

In this culture, for most people there is so much work to be done that there is little time left to devote to doing a child’s hair. As well as hair products and care are a luxury that not everyone can afford.

I’ve been told that all mzungu look the same. I have to admit that I have had a hard time telling Tanzanians apart, especially men, unless I have talked with them and seen them more than once. At home I can walk into class survey the room, and go to my next class and pick out people who were in my previous class by face not by the way they are dressed. I think it has to do with hair or the lack there of. I have discovered that I and most of my cohort recognize people by “reading” their faces top down: hair, then eyes, nose, and mouth. In a culture where there is little or no hair to use as a recognition clue it is challenging to pick out faces. I have to reprogram the way I remember faces. It is a subtle difference though when it comes to making friends and remembering them it is important. Another thing I’ve noticed is that I can pick out varying subtle shades of Caucasian people. When it comes to darker skin, I am not as good at noticing the differences. I guessing that it comes from interacting with and having to recognize those differences. Skin tone is another factor in recognizing people. The more time I spend here, the easier the differences are to see. It is something that you have to train you eyes to see whether you do it from birth or make a choice to see the difference.

Fast Food in Tanzania

2008-10-14T06:25:00.000-07:00

The title would be an oxymoron if phrases could be an oxymoron. There is no such thing as “fast food” in traditional Tanzania. Well, there is a single dish I have found, chipsi mayai, fries cooked into scrambled eggs, that could be considered “fast food” though it is cooked to order and can take awhile. There are restaurants with “fast food” in the name yet it is a sit down restaurant where you get a menu and a server.

The best example of this is The Silver Spoon by my dorm. I popped in one day for a quick meal on my way to a movie. Let’s just say I missed the previews and a good portion of the introduction. I went to the counter to order and was directed to a table. A lady in a very clean and pressed green and yellow uniform came to my table and brought me a menu and took my drink order. Realizing that this was going to take a bit of time, I caved to the daily special of beef lasagna (I was craving cheese!). I presumed it was already made and sitting in a warmer in the kitchen…nope. I waited for my very own personal sized lasagna to be made. Upon delivery to my table, after a considerable wait, I unwrapped my napkin enclosed silverware and proceeded to chow down on my pseudo-Italian dish. It was fantastic until the last bite…it tasted like soap. My best guess is that some other individual ordered the lasagna before right before me and in their haste to wash someone forgot to rinse.

Reflecting on this after my movie, I concluded that even “convenience food” in Tanzania is a chance to meet someone...in my story it was my server who chatted with me about why I was in Dar and where I come form. I have to confess that at home I am guilty of eating my share of fast food – the kind you order through a speaker out of your car window. From the time I pick up my “meal” at the next window from the hand that flung it at me to the time I reach the next stop light could have eaten half of the bag’s contents. Eating food was simply a task to be done. Honestly, for me who considers eating to be a social event, I was quite lonely eating my to-go meals. Reflecting on the months before I came here, eating like that several times a week was unhealthier for my soul than my body.

Eating in Tanzania is never lonely. Where I am searching for a seat in the cafeteria or venturing out to most restaurants there are always lots of people. Sometimes I try to go ear alone. It’s something I enjoyed occasionally at home. It gave me a chance to breathe. People generally didn’t bother the lady who went to a busy restaurant at dinner and ordered a table for one. There are times here that I try to eat alone. The only way so far that I have found to somewhat succeed is to by bread and soup mix or cheese at Shoprite and eat in my room. That usually doesn’t last long because someone comes and knocks on my door wondering why I didn’t come to dinner.

Mori: Mzungu Parade

2008-10-12T03:48:00.000-07:00

This is the first of several entries about my trip to Mori, a little homestead on the slopes of Kilimanjaro. Keep watching for more tales of Mori to come soon!

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Going to Mori, I knew that it was going to be a big thing for the small community to have so many guests. I didn't think about how much of a spectacle we would be. It started in Kiboroloni...not exactly a tourist destination. When eleven mzungu got off the bus in this small place there were many raised eyebrows. Since it is on the way to a Kilimanjaro base camp, they probably thought that we were just lost. Our ride to Mori was waiting for us though when we got off of the bus. I knew we were going in a Land Rover. I didn't know that the back was open and we were standing in the back along with the luggage holding on to the roll bars on the way up the hill. As we went along, more and more people piled in with us. By the time we got half way up the path there were about twenty people in the back. It was loads of fun, yet there were some huge bruises involved. Every time we hit a bump...and there were lots of them...I smashed my ribs or hips into the bars. Ouch! All along the way, small children came running out of driveways and down the street telling, "Mzungu, Mzungu! Good morning! Hello!" Then they would yell to their friends and siblings in the house something the equivalent of "Come see this strange thing!" It's not everyday that white people come in mass through the village standing in the back of a truck. It didn't help that our driver kept honking his horn - sometimes to get livestock out of the road and other times for attention.

Once we got to the house, there were a host of people waiting to see us. For the remainder of the evening, anytime I looked at the fence, I could see little sets of eyes peering in at us. I felt a little like Marco, my fish might if he had complex feelings. Our compound felt a bit like a fish bowl and we were being watched to see if we would do any tricks. It wasn’t a bad feeling, I just haven’t ever felt like I was so watched in a curious way before. Our host jokingly told us, “They (the community) think that we stand on our heads when we are home.” This of course was not a literal statement. It was meant as we are different and there is so few mzungu that come through that we are a bit of a curiosity. I am generally not a person who draws attention to herself. Having this much curiosity directed my way was a new experience. Being in the community and trying to talk with children who wanted to practice their English also was an adventure. We would make it through the Hellos and Good Mornings before they started giggling uncontrollably.

During the week, we ate the same food they did, washed our clothes and fetched water from the spring. Our host would report to us at night the things she heard during the day about us. Most things were casual statements of amazement. Our cooks apologize for making us their kinds of foods. They assumed that we wouldn’t eat it or like it. Most of what they cooked was good. There was one thing, mtindi, which is a little bit different. It is their version of yogurt. It tasted more like runny sour cream with chunks in it. I liked it but not with rice and ugali. It would have been better with tortilla chips. I think by the end of the week, the community around us realized that we were content to be there and participate in daily life. The kids were always amused by the sight of us moving around town on foot or in the back of the Land Rover.

The Supernatural in the Natural

2008-10-10T13:43:00.000-07:00

This entry is from the 6th...this is the first chance I've had to get online. See you all soon!!!!!!

Today was supposed to be the first day of class. I reported to room ARD for SO: 264 – Introduction to Medical Sociology and Anthropology promptly at 12:55pm. Class started at one o’clock. Being on time was a benefit because my professor is a punctual man and made a scene of everyone who was late. This class is an overview of healthcare in relationship to cultural and social systems and norms. I’m really interested in taking it.

My professor this afternoon made an interesting statement in his introduction to medical pluralism. In the context of talking about alternative healthcare systems, he used a personal example. He stated, “In my life I have never taken a malaria tablet. When the doctors tell me I have malaria, I say that I am going to pray. It is an attack on my body.” I wasn’t the least bit bothered by it. The rest of my international cohort made it the topic of the day…almost in a mocking way. I finally mentioned that I was amused by the fact they seemed so bothered by his comment. It is his belief given in the context of saying that it was his method. I think I am less bothered by this because I come from a community that believes in healing. (Personally, I would take the malaria tablet and pray. The side effects are nasty.)

This leads me to an observation. Most of the students I am lumped in a group with are really skeptical about matters dealing with the supernatural in reference to God or witchcraft. This is not the only time I’ve seen this though the comments following class today led me to much thought. This culture is one that embraces the supernatural in the form of God or witchcraft. It is in the media, pop culture, lifestyles and conversation. Coming to Tanzania, it is necessary to have some concept of the effect of supernatural beliefs in the day to day lives of the people. Using the supernatural to explain things from malaria in infertility or a bad business day is common. Coming from the background I do, it has given me the ability to have conversations with people about these views. When something good happens, it is usually attributed to God. When it is a negative event or series of events, it is the result of witchcraft, probably a close family member or friend who is jealous of success or possessions.

Even the legal system is facing the issues of the supernatural. Recently there have been several articles in the news about people being killed because their neighbors considered them witches casting spells against them. One such story from The Guardian recently…A man was murdered by his neighbors because they thought he was a witch when they found him in their back yard. They proceeded to kill him by stuffing twenty, yes twenty, green bananas in his rectum. The courts ruled that this was a justifiable killing because the man had a reputation in the community of using witchcraft and the individuals who assaulted him were protecting their families and property. On the other hand supernatural healing is embraced as a reality because it is the only hope some people have. Not having access to the same kinds and caliber of medicine available in the West, people frequently turn to prayer because something that is considered a treatable illness elsewhere is life threatening here.

In this culture, in the context of health and healing a full discussion needs to include all of the avenues that people use to achieve and maintain health. Yes, it is different and some of the practices here would never fly legally in other countries, yet in this context it is culturally appropriate. To conduct humanitarian work here especially in the health sector workers need knowledge of these traditional beliefs and practices to be able to adequately give care and education to their patients. I see this as an opportunity to learn how to communicate cross culturally and learn how to do it effectively.

Hmmmmm………

2008-10-08T15:46:00.001-07:00

I had lunch with a friend of mine recently and the topic of the Maasai came up. I was telling her about the boma I visited and how self sufficient the people were. I left the boma with a different view than I went with. Looking at it with a Western mentality, it is easy to say that they are resistant to change and that they will be either be forced to change or be left out and that some “civilization” is needed along with “modern conveniences.” It is true that a clean drinking water source is needed and more of the community could benefit from advanced medical care as well as the rates of literacy improved. On the other hand, I met some really happy families that are poor in a monetary sense, yet they don’t need as much currency for exchange as you might think. As their lives bleed into more of the contemporary scene, funds are needed for school fees and veterinary services but for the most part there is still plenty of bartering and trading that I could see.

The point that I’m coming to is that the Tanzanian lady I was having lunch called them “savage” and “backwards.” She said, “There is something not right with the way they live. They need to change.” I was bothered by hearing one Tanzanian call another those terms. I know that that this individuals’ family, or at least some of them, live in a similar fashion and she didn’t see anything wrong with that. The whole thing was very strange.

Education will allow future generations to choose if they want to continue in the traditional way of life. It is a matter of choice. Literacy gives the population a chance to know about other subsistence strategies and cultures. From that knowledge, the individual can make an informed choice to change their lifestyle or to continue as they have.

I know that at home individuals have differing opinions of others that are not like themselves. I don’t like that when I’m at home. It was even more challenging to listen to when not that long ago many groups in Tanzania lived as the Maasai still do. It is easy to see little you need to be removed from someone to be able to criticize the differences.

The Supernatural in the Natural

2008-10-06T07:04:00.000-07:00

Today was supposed to be the first day of class. I reported to room ARD for SO: 264 – Introduction to Medical Sociology and Anthropology promptly at 12:55pm. Class started at one o’clock. Being on time was a benefit because my professor is a punctual man and made a scene of everyone who was late. This class is an overview of healthcare in relationship to cultural and social systems and norms. I’m really interested in taking it.

My professor this afternoon made an interesting statement in his introduction to medical pluralism. In the context of talking about alternative healthcare systems, he used a personal example. He stated, “In my life I have never taken a malaria tablet. When the doctors tell me I have malaria, I say that I am going to pray. It is an attack on my body.” I wasn’t the least bit bothered by it. The rest of my international cohort made it the topic of the day…almost in a mocking way. I finally mentioned that I was amused by the fact they seemed so bothered by his comment. It is his belief given in the context of saying that it was his method. I think I am less bothered by this because I come from a community that believes in healing. (Personally, I would take the malaria tablet and pray. The side effects are nasty.)

This leads me to an observation. Most of the students I am lumped in a group with are really skeptical about matters dealing with the supernatural in reference to God or witchcraft. This is not the only time I’ve seen this though the comments following class today led me to much thought. This culture is one that embraces the supernatural in the form of God or witchcraft. It is in the media, pop culture, lifestyles and conversation. Coming to Tanzania, it is necessary to have some concept of the effect of supernatural beliefs in the day to day lives of the people. Using the supernatural to explain things from malaria in infertility or a bad business day is common. Coming from the background I do, it has given me the ability to have conversations with people about these views. When something good happens, it is usually attributed to God. When it is a negative event or series of events, it is the result of witchcraft, probably a close family member or friend who is jealous of success or possessions.

More to come later…running out of rented computer time.

Crossing Over: The Challenge of the Other Side

2008-10-04T10:15:00.000-07:00

Coming to Tanzania, I had no idea that they drive on the opposite of the road than we do in the US. The first time in the car was an interesting experience. Driving or even riding in a car in Tanzania can be scary enough. It was even more so until my brain realized that we were not driving into oncoming traffic. This whole arrangement has caused a few other changes in my behavior as well. On campus and basically everywhere else, people walk down the sidewalk or road on the side that they would be driving on. The same is true going up and down the stairs and aisles in the supermarket. For example at home I would walk down the right side of the sidewalk. I try to do that here and I have to step around people until I remember that I should be on the other side. Most days I forget until I’ve nearly run into someone. When walking in groups, I frequently feel one of my team member’s hands on my shoulders moving me into the appropriate “lane.”

Going home is will involve learning how to do these little things over. I never realized how much of an impact which side of the road I drive on has on other social situations and how ingrained it is to be on the appropriate sided of the foot traffic flow. Maybe it’s not the driving that affects the other things, but it is the most obvious option see. Seeing as how almost everything is researched these days, I’m sure I could Google it and come up with an acceptable answer.

Live from Zanzibar!

2008-10-04T06:17:00.000-07:00

I'm in Zanzibar and have been for the last few days. It's been amazing! I'll have to come back sometime soon. Stonetown grows on you. More stories to come soon...snorkeling, Idd festival, shopping and spring rolls with cinnamon. Stay tuned! Miss you all lots!

Tanzanian Toys: Recycled Treasures

2008-10-01T09:56:00.000-07:00

I spotted a little boy today playing with the most interesting toy. It was a small, narrow board with four water bottle cap wheels. On either end of the board was a half of small water bottle that had been anchored to the board. He would push this make shift car with a stick by putting it inside the front bottle half. He was having more fun pushing this small thing around than I’ve seen in a long time. It wasn’t the sturdiest toy, nor did it roll straight. Nonetheless, he was having fun pushing the thing around. The reason this stuck with me is that I had previously had a conversation about what is was going to be like going home at Christmas. I’m dreading it a bit. I like Christmas, but I find the holidays and the shopping and busyness that go with it to be a bit overwhelming. I know that at some point I am going to brave the crowds to buy clothes seeing that I have very few left in Washington since they were stolen and I don’t have any clothes to wear in Texas while I am home. Back to the point, I will see numerous families clamoring to buy the latest gadget for their youngsters that will probably be forgotten by April and the credit card bill will still need to be paid. The kid I saw was having more fun with something that could be considered trash than most kids will ever play with the toys they have in their toy box. I’m not anti-stuff, but I think this puts it in perspective and is a reminder that sometimes simpler is better. I remember my sister having more fun with a milk jug and clothes pins than her toys. I am more resolved than ever to make my life and the things that come from it simpler.

Daffodil Vs. Yellow

2008-09-29T12:13:00.000-07:00

As part of my own language learning, I have been investigating the color words in Swahili. I couldn’t find some of them in the dictionary. I questioned my tutor about this and it let to a rather interesting conversation. After she defined the some terms that I wanted and were easy to name; then, we came to colors like pink, purple, orange, brown, and maroon. I discovered that Swahili traditionally doesn’t have words for these colors and several others. They are borrowed from other languages – English, Arabic, and German – mainly. She said that orange is frequently referred to as “color of the fruit (oranges)”; it is translated basically in that phrase. Pink is pinki, brown is the color of coffee, and my favorite amusing term, maroon, is damu na mzee, literally the blood of old people. The color universals that I discussed in anthropology last semester are true here. There are definite words for red, black, and white. The rest of the color words vary within Swahili and the tribal languages, if they exist at all.

Having done graphic design at home, I’ve learned to distinguish the slightest differences in colors. To my eye, there is a difference between aqua and pool as well as tangerine and orange zest. Looking at fabrics in the market, I take those color terms with me. I see khaki and mocha kitenges with turquoise and lime accents. If you asked the shop keeper to name those colors you would hear, brown, blue and green. My eye can see those differences and I know physiologically an eye is an eye unless it’s been damaged. Does knowledge of color activate more rods and cones in the eye or is it awareness to those subtle differences?

The story my tutor shared with us to illustrate the lack of color words is quite humorous and it goes a something like this: “My sister got married last year. It was my responsibility to buy all of the flowers and the decorations. She told me her wedding colors were pink and white and that the bridesmaids dresses were pink, so I bought pink everything. Since she lives far away, she didn’t see anything until I came a few days before the wedding with the things I had purchased. I bought pink like the kind on roses or baby blankets. The dresses were maroon. We used what we had, though when I think about it until a few years ago I would have called maroon pink as well because I hadn’t learned a word for that color.”

This leads me to the thought that many of the words I use to describe colors are a product of wealth. Why else would I need to know the difference in the names between three different shades of blue unless I had time to think about it or use those terms in home decorating or design?

I’d love to take a rural Tanzanian into Home Depot to look at all of the paint chips and samples. I’d have to ask what colors he/she saw. Then, upon this individual’s return home, if he/she started seeing colors differently since new color words were added to the vocabulary and an opportunity was given to see distinctions labeled in color difference.

Coming Soon!

2008-09-28T06:31:00.000-07:00

Hey All! I know I've been promising blogs about my trip north to Kilimanjaro. I'm really far behind. Internet here has been touch and go. With the addition of students on campus the wait for the Internet cafe is ever increasing. I'm going to get there soon. Until then, check out the photo link and leave me comments on older entries or send me e-mails. I miss you all See you soon! ~ Shanea'

Campus Cleanliness & Society’s Rubbish

2008-09-24T07:34:00.000-07:00

For this being a “developing nation” I’m really impressed by how clean the university campus is. Virtually every morning, I come downstairs to a crew doing yard work around my building. The rest of the campus is the same way. There are always crews of men and women cutting grass, raking leaves, or sweeping sidewalks everywhere I go on campus. There is also a group of people who almost continually monitor the restroom in the middle of campus. That could be true because the water goes out so frequently and the hand flush buckets have to be filled somehow. From what I’ve seen and imagined I thought that I would have to endure heaps of rubbish and clogged gutters. It’s been a pleasant surprise to not have to see those things. The surrounding city areas aren’t as clean, yet part of me was expecting something far worse.

Leaving campus things are a little different. Based on where you are, you could see gutters full of rubbish and large pools of standing water or well maintained streets. It is all based on what part of town you are in. The more touristy parts of town or the better neighborhoods are more likely to be better maintained...not much different from home.

I don’t think that I will ever grow accustomed to throwing fruit rubbish on the ground or the amount of littering I see other people do. Off of campus a little piece of me wants to walk around with one of those “picker-upper” things and just pick up the trash. The problem comes down to where does it go once it’s in the bin. The city has a bit of a waste removal system. Many residents burn their garbage…what little they make that isn’t compost able or reusable. People here are so thrifty. I see many things being reused. Plastic bags from bread get rinsed and dried to be used to get meat from the butcher. Blue Band margarine containers become parts for children’s toys. Soles are cut off of shoes to make stoppers for sinks and tubs. It is truly unconventional recycling.

Campus Safety Vs. Auxilliary Police

2008-09-20T15:00:00.000-07:00

At PLU, we have a fantastic campus safety department. They handle building lock ups and monitor parking lots. They also do write ups for alcohol on campus and noise violations. At UDSM, we also have campus safety, but it's a little different. The local security/militia trains one or two days a week - complete with long runs and chants. It looks like a military work out. Then there are the guns. In addition to the physical training they receive, they also get arms training. When they are doing their training near the soccer field, it is easy to see the wooden rifles stacked not too far away. It is quite normal to see a man in full military dress on my way to class, armed to the teeth with an automatic rifle sitting outside of the mail drop across from the bank that is by the cafeteria. They are all over campus. I think my favorite is the lady who sits outside of our building. She looks likes your grandma, but I'd never cross her since the man sitting next to her has a sawed off shotgun. Yes, I'm safe. :)

It’s an entirely different perspective on keeping students safe. It seems like more of their security is a display as part of prevention than dealing with actual incidents. The other observation is the only residence hall I’ve seen security in front of is our hall. I’m curious to see if that changes once school starts and more halls have students living in them or if the security is here because this is the hall where international students live and thieves assume that we all have rooms full of valuables? Over all I feel safer during the day when I can see around me. Nights are a little sketchy since the campus is open and it is so large. I’ve met my fair share of interesting individuals with mental health issues on campus. They just seem to wander around all day. Luckily, I’ve only met them in the day light.

The Darfur Problem Lecture: My Response as an American & a Global Citizen

2008-09-17T21:15:00.000-07:00

Just as a beginning note, this has the potential to be controversial....

Sitting in this lecture, I had an interesting perspective. I think a long time ago I overcame the view that American does no wrong. Listening to how the American government’s unfounded reports were the cause of so much of the Darfur hysteria in the US wasn’t shocking as a fact that it happened. It did frustrate me that supposedly educated people, the Senate, would vote on an issue and label a conflict with a word as serious as genocide before they had many, if any, facts. Only after the senate voted on this issue, was a study commissioned. Then that study was basically called hogwash by the audit office. How much different could the international response had been if the information in the WHO report was more publicized than the term genocide.(The WHO listed the causes of the majority of the casualties as lack of public health facilities and systems – sanitation and clean water namely.) There could have been a more humanitarian response that addressed the issued of the mass of people. Those issues are still a problem today and are still taking lives. Yes there was a civil conflict and probably some indirect death due to the conflict, though I still see evidence that there was a better way to handle it.

I left not offended or frustrated as others did. I wish some of that information could be repeated to my peers at home in a way that would click for them. I want to see not a continued fundraising response for advocacy groups or a call for government and military involvement. I want to see these areas and nations who are closer to the conflict empowered to do something practical about it. Practicality is not only a shipment of weapons and barbed wire, but also shovels and pipes to put in latrines and a well.

I felt a little foolish after this lecture because I have given financial support to the Save Darfur Coalition. If I had known then what I know now, they wouldn’t have gotten my money. I’ve checked out some of the sources the speaker cited and I see that he interpreted them accurately. The entire Darfur issue gives people a chance to do something that makes them feel good because they don’t see themselves as having a direct responsibility to those people for causing their situation unlike the conflict in Iraq. I probably take a different stance on the Iraq War than the presenter did. People are more hesitant to give to causes that directly benefit the Iraqi citizens because in a round about way, I think they are seen as a threat and by giving to them, we have to acknowledge our role in their current situation. This is something that is far too complicated to continue writing about as I have strong opinions all of the way around for numerous reasons.

That Song Found Me Here!

2008-09-15T10:17:00.000-07:00

Our handbook suggested that we not bring mp3 players because “we are in Tanzania to be in Tanzania.” Translated and put in context it was referring to the fact that we should be tuned into our environment, not to mention the fact that having a piece of gear like that marks us as a tourist, a target for robbery, and puts a visual wealth barrier between us and those around us. There have been numerous times on this trip that if I had closed my eyes, what I heard was no different than that at home. Driving through the market district in Arusha, I could hear “Drive Me Crazy” by Britney Spears or in the dala dala “Love in This Club” by Chris Brown was being blasted. It is such a contrast to what I expected. I was hoping to hear some lovely Tanzanian tunes. Occasionally they float by my ears, yet from the time I wake up until I go to bed, at any given time I can hear, “No Air,” “Umbrella,” or some other catchy Top 40 tune of the Rap/R&B variety being played.

I think what was the strangest and disconcerting was my ride on the Dar Express. I was contentedly watching the countryside roll by and then I heard it…”I Kissed A Girl” by Katy Perry. I distinctly remember thinking as the song came on the radio on the way to the airport, “I’m so glad I’m not going to have to hear that song for months!” It found me in Tanzania and interrupted my nice thoughts!

On a deeper note, I’ve had to think about the impact this style of music brings with it. Tanzania, Dar Es Salaam especially, carries an evident Western influence. I have to wonder what effect this rush of media is having on mainstream or more traditional Tanzanian culture. I’ve seen the influx of media even in my few short years in American culture – the progression of musical lyrics, the slow slide down in visual content and ads popping up everywhere for everything. . I wonder if things will follow the same path here? It’s been said that input equals output. If Tanzanian youth are being exposed to more outside influences than ever, will their lifestyle quickly follow suit or is the culture here strong enough to withstand the Western media influence? I hear the difference in Tanzanian hip hop and what is being “imported.” The lyrics communicate a different message and the videos are far different. The Tanzanian style reflects more wholesome values. I’m sure that there are exceptions, but I have seen very few.

I hear and see Western media and its influence, specifically music in this case, in so many places. I think one of the most memorable was in Eluwai. We are in the middle of the boma and one of the men had a radio turned on and I caught a few notes of a catchy pop tune I know. It was more than out of place. It was alien in the setting. I’m sure to them it isn’t a big thing, but it was a complete jaw dropper for me.

Sniff, Sniff

2008-09-12T23:40:00.000-07:00

Having a computer the last few days has been therapy to my soul. Not for the contact with home, but for the opportunity to play music I know. My mp3 player stopped working correctly on the way here. I discovered though that I could still load the files onto a computer. I’ve been able to listen to my favorite songs. All of the tunes I brought for this trip are ones that evoke memories of some kind. I knew that at some point I would the songs that have gotten me through the last year or so. It not just the music either, but also the movement I’ve been able to put with it. I didn’t realize how much I miss the sounds of home. I miss those little things…sounds that are familiar, being able to listen to the news in a language you understand, understanding the conversation that goes on around you, and almost the most important – smells. I miss the smells of home. Certain smells are more powerful than any words. Smelling Jeremy’s cologne or my favorite perfume, neither of which I brought with me, is more comforting that almost anything. I’d almost give a finger to be able to smell those things. It is such a comfort to be able to recognize something that is yours. It’s like snuggling into your favorite duvet and taking a deep breath. It smells like you, your home, your favorite meals, and your laundry soap. I love some of the smells of Tanzania, but I haven’t found anything yet that compares to the smells of home.

Alphabet Revision

2008-09-10T06:48:00.000-07:00

Just a little funny from the field.

While chatting with a lady who does field research, she mentioned this conference she went to on FGM (Female Genital Mutilation) and HIV in Kenya a few years ago. She took her daughter, who at the time was about three. Thinking that she was too young to remember any of it, she was shocked to come home and here her little girl singing the alphabet with a revision.
“A, B, C, D, E, F, G, M, H, I, V, J, K L,….”

I laughed my socks off.

If you don’t get it, sing the above pattern aloud and re-read the first sentence…Now you’re laughing! :)

Today I Have A Desire...

2008-09-08T09:07:00.000-07:00

I know that this will never happen as long as I am in Tanzania, yet I feel the need to dream. I would like to go from my dorm to my destination without being hassled by semi-flirtatious men or good natured citizens who keep trying to teach me Swahili. It’s not that I don’t know a lot of words; I just don’t feel like having a long pointless from my perspective conversation. This culture is completely relationship oriented and it can be very tiring. I miss being able to go from point A to B and not having to talk to a single unknown soul. It feels so pointless from my Western perspective. For Tanznaians, all of this builds relationship and you many need something from that individual so it pays to be kind to them and this is in general a very friendly culture. I just want space to breathe and be without fearing that I am being rude. I feel the obligation to always talk and be open because if not I feel like the rude American. In reality, if I don’t hear a greeting or quickly pass someone on the walkway, I am probably deep in thought as my brain has been occupied since I’ve been here. This is probably my most negative journal entry yet, but it is how I feel today. It is part of my learning. I will not change a culture and I don’t realistically expect them to change for me. My options are to accept it and be bubbly, ignore people and fulfill the stereotype, or get over the thought that I might offend someone and try my best within reason.

I think the whole thing would be easier if I knew more people around me. I know so few Tanzanian students. All of the ones that I’ve met so far end up asking for my phone number or for me to “visit” them. This male dominated campus wears on my brain and nerves. After seeing some of the trouble the other girls have had, I’ve decided to be very leery of all of the men here. I’d rather avoid the situation than have to make up a story or deal with someone who is persistent. It’s not well understood that we did not come to Tanzania to get married. I understand that I am somewhat of an anomaly here. I’m 24 and single with no children. It’s not as bad around the university as it is in the outlying areas. The women wonder why I don’t have children and a house at home. I’m beyond the age of marriage. I should have babies or so I’ve been told. In the end, I’ve almost reached the conclusion to exclusively befriend women on campus with the exception of a few international students for various reasons.

I really could just lock myself in the library today and be content…if I could find what I am looking for. Hopefully my search for information will not be in vain.

Meeting Other International Students

2008-09-06T13:23:00.000-07:00

As more international students have been arriving on campus, it’s been interesting to meet them. Some jump right in and start trying things. Others have the look of shock for days and are petrified of everything. I think it would be interesting, if not also embarrassing, to be able to see myself when I first came. I’ve been here over a month now and I’m feeling a lot more at ease. I can navigate parts of the area by myself. I feel fairly comfortable around campus. The only thing that can unnerve me and probably always will is the persistent man asking for my phone number or asking me, “his friend,” to come visit. I don’t trust their intentions one bit nor am I interested in anything of the sort. The open markets bother me less. I’m still not a fan of long bargaining conversations. I feel like such a cheapskate when I try to get the price too low. I’ll bargain a bit, but I’m not as determined as other people in my group.

As one who has been here bit, I feel like an unofficial ambassador to incoming international students. When they look lost, I feel the need to ask if I can help them find something or explain the cafeteria menu because it is all in Swahili. I’ve met several students so far that were told to meet at the LINKS office, yet they have no idea where that is, let alone where they are in relationship to anything else of campus.

I think I had the look of shock and probably exhaustion when I arrived in country. I’d almost like to do it all over again to see it with fresh eyes. I can say that I am very happy our program has an orientation like it does. From speaking with other students from different programs, they didn’t get hardly anything as to a country orientation. Even if we only had done the pre-departure reading, we were way ahead of the curve once we arrived. I don’t think I could do what some of these people do. They come alone. The LINKS office drops them off at the dorm and then they are on their own. How overwhelming! I can say we, LCCT, have it good.

What I've been pondering.

2008-09-03T10:25:00.000-07:00

This is from a few days ago. By now we all know that Tanzanian electricity and Internet aren't the most predictable things.

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09.01.2008 7:45 pm

I feel more than ever that I am headed down the right track with what I am doing and where I am going. I laid in bed last night after reading half of Three Cups of Tea and wept. I read the story of a man who is pursuing his passion to change the lives of individuals and he is doing it so simply. I started thinking about the thought that has been swimming around in my head and heart for weeks; after seeing the state of the maternity ward in Steven’s village outside of Arusha, I want to do something about it. As my thoughts wandered through plans, lists and questions, my heart felt full and complete. The tears flowed and my thoughts drifted to a scripture that I’ve learned well. The whole passage has been relevant to me at times in the last two years and provided comfort in very uncomfortable times. For the first time in a long time, I saw an alternative interpretation to the scripture I’ve been clinging to for a long time Isaiah 54:1
“’Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud you have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married,’ says the Lord”.

Until last night I’ve looked at that verse with a different perspective. Last night when sleep evaded me and my heart was exposed in the stillness of my room, I heard it differently. Yes, I have not labored with a child, but I have the opportunity to leave a legacy to a community of mothers. I know not the joy of having a child, yet I hope to never feel the grief of loosing one. I know how I felt after Mom “miscarried” the twins. That loss is big enough for me. I still think about them sometimes and what it would be like to have a younger brother and sister a bit older than my youngest sister. They would be eleven or so now. I, as one who has not labored can sing with joy in my heart for I will be able to know that I had a part in the lives of all of the women and children my dream will help. It is completely daunting, humbling and overwhelming. I can’t shake it though. It feels like the right thing to do. I trust my heart on this one. I have no idea how it will happen, I just know that it needs to. At the same time I wept at my new understanding of the dream in my heart, I felt completely humbled that God has chosen me.

I start now down the road of planning and praying. I know that it could become consuming and overwhelming. I start this journey knowing that it will not be just me that makes this happen. There are people I am to partner with. I believe that part of the dream that has always been a seed in my heart has been watered by the people of Tanzania.

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“There will be nothing left but memories and legacy that God breathes life into. My life’s goal is bigger than me; I start the journey and then pass on the torch when the time is right.”

First Day Teaching

2008-09-03T10:19:00.000-07:00

This is from Friday. I just got electricity back today so I'm a little behind. Apologies!

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The day before yesterday I ran into my teacher for the first time since I actually met her. I went back to the school several times to set up a time. I left notes and phone messages to no avail. I started helping someone else as I needed some time in the classroom. She was excited to see me and explained why she hadn’t been around. She asked me to come teach today to meet the class and set-up times for when I come back in October to teach.

Once in class, I introduced myself and told the kids a bit about my family and where I come from. After the teacher left, I ran out of ideas. I told them all their vocabulary could understand. I began the lesson where the teacher told me that she left off. The class is so far behind the other standard five classes. My teacher has missed so much class time and teaching English doesn’t seem to be a priority to her. The students were enthusiastic to learn. There were only four books in the class and they snickered and laughed as I tried to explain sequence words. The class has excellent repetition skills, but their ability to understand what they are reading is so minimal. It is a challenge to work with this class. The best way to teach English is to do it through a conversation. There is only one of me and 45 of them. I hope that I can make a difference for them. I see the value of English here and how necessary it is if they are to continue their education to the secondary level. If these kids pass their standard seven exams they will be put in English speaking classrooms. Where they are now in their language skills, they can’t even ask for a cup of water. It’s so challenging to see. I understand the importance of knowing English for these kids. It’s frustrating to see that the lower level teachers just don’t care. They know that these kids need English skills to go to secondary school and university. It’s even helpful making their way around the city as more tourists come and go and companies need English speakers. Caroline and I discussed the situation and she said that many of the teachers have poor English skills themselves and so aren’t able to teach the material. This whole arm of the educational system seems broken and it looks like no one is trying o fix it.

Meeting Other International Students

2008-09-03T00:12:00.000-07:00

Fishermen on the Coast

2008-09-02T11:10:00.000-07:00

Going through my photos from Bagamoyo, I came across this picture and it caused me to think a lot. From where I was standing, I could see modern hotels and boats, yet there were these vessels. They looked like something out of parables I’ve read. There was one sitting on the shore that wasn’t being used anymore. I could see the pieces that were worked together to make the boat float. Tar in the cracks and over patches in the body, keeps the water out and the boat afloat. I saw the workers repair their nets and putting them in the boats on the way out to gather the morning’s catch.

Seeing these boats and their owners gave me, what felt like, a glimpse into the past. In reality, this is the way these men and so many others in this community make their living everyday. It is the means of feeding their family and sending their children to school. This is a snapshot of reality. It isn’t some far off time. It is just a few days ago and happened again today whether someone was there to capture it on film or not. This way of life is so far removed from my own existence. It is not something I understand at all. This ritual must be carried on day after day to bring in a harvest to feed hungry bellies. There is no rest. It is an existence that for the most part is day to day. I don’t even know how to begin to connect with that. I work a job as a student that puts funds in my bank account that allows me to mostly pick when I work and how much that is. I can travel across the world and be an observer into another way of life.

Small Grasping Fingers and Pig Noises

2008-08-30T10:07:00.000-07:00

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.

What else is there to say?

2008-08-24T15:08:00.000-07:00

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... :)

Keep you hands to yourself…

2008-08-23T13:30:00.001-07:00

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.

When “please” doesn’t mean “please”

2008-08-22T11:15:00.000-07:00

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.

Muzungu on Display

2008-08-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

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 .

How many people can you fit in a minivan?

2008-08-20T06:10:00.000-07:00

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. :)

Social Expectations or Am I a Worrier?

2008-08-15T12:39:00.000-07:00

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

Maasai Shoukas: Made in China

2008-08-13T21:13:00.000-07:00

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. :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.

Life Update!

2008-08-12T09:07:00.000-07:00

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!

If I Went Home Tomorrow...

2008-08-11T23:56:00.000-07:00

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.

Shopping: Yikes!

2008-08-10T19:48:00.000-07:00

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.

Malaria Mosquitoes

2008-08-07T21:39:00.000-07:00

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.

Extrovert on Vacation

2008-08-06T20:39:00.000-07:00

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.

You can call me Dalila.

2008-08-05T16:45:00.000-07:00

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.

Three days in a boma...I smell like goat!

2008-08-02T08:43:00.000-07:00

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!

Dancing!

2008-08-01T23:56:00.000-07:00

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.

Milking Goats and Cows…I think I like the supermarket

2008-07-31T18:15:00.000-07:00

After trying my hand at milking, I’ve decided that I like getting my milk from the market. It’s not that I didn’t get milk from the goat like a few others, it’s just very labor intensive for very little milk. I’m a fan of dairy products and the little milk I thin I could get from a herd of cows or goats probably wouldn’t sustain me. This perspective makes dairy products as I know them in the west a luxury. I don’t have to milk the animal then churn it into butter or wait for it to curdle into cheese. I walk into the store, select and my desired item from rows of similar items. The women who milk these animals daily put a lot of labor into getting the bit of milk that is used in food or for their children. I have even more admiration for them as it is part of their life. It’s not easy and there is never a vacation from those duties. They must be milked or they will stop producing..

I just walk to the market and shell out the cash. I think I’ve got it easy…and there’s no hair in my milk.

Grace, Hope and Happiness

2008-07-30T21:45:00.000-07:00

I knew we were going to an AIDS hospice. I somehow missed the detail that most of the patients were children. It was a little gut wrenching. I had too swallow a few tears. Most of the kids were gone to school so we headed to the day care. It is a facility specifically for kids who are HIV/AIDS orphans or are positive themselves. There is a broad range of ages. The focus is getting kids ready to start school. Many of the older kids have never been in school. They receive meals and medication for their condition. The daycare staff works with home health care workers and the families to get the kids to a doctor's office regularly for checkups and medication refills as the government provides free ARVs (anti-retrovirals). After they sang their songs for us and we played a bit, we divided up into different rooms to work on letters and number. I think I was in one of the younger classes, but it is challenging to determine ages as all of the kids look much younger than they are due to various reasons.

There was one little girl (I found out later that it was a girl. I thought she was a boy because of the way she was dressed) in my class who caught my heart. She seemed to be hard of hearing and much younger than the rest of the kids. She was one only one who was not understanding how we were writing the letter A and the number 2. The entire time i was there she didn't make a sound. I decided to spend some time with her. I felt a huge need to pray. Not loudly or obnoxiously, but just to myself as we wrote our numbers. I had to confront the question if I thought God is big enough to heal her. I know He is, but I was challenged to pray that way. Even now, it will continue. I know that He has a plan for her life no matter what the condition or how long or short.

At WAMATA, a local organization for AIDS patients and community resources, we met three women who were living with HIV/AIDS. Upon meeting them, I discovered that their names either were or translated to Grace, Hope and Happiness. Hearing their stories gave me hope for others like them and also inspired me to be a better health care provider to patients I will have like them. They were the most wonderful women who were welcoming and gracious. they made me smile.

Lions, Flamingos, and Orangutangs, oh my!

2008-07-29T10:31:00.000-07:00

Yes I went on Safari. Yes it was cool. Yes you weren't there...haha. Just kidding. Wish you all had been. Check out my pics. they are pretty good for how far away the animals were. Some of the animals were really close to the side of the road like the zebras and lions. I was sad that I didn't see any giraffes in the crater, but I saw them on the way out! There is a lot I could say about tourism and the economy and the pros and cons, but I'll save that for a later date.

The coolest part of the whole day was the morning as we were descending into the crater. There was this foggy mist that hung over the edge of the trees and the rim of the crater. A specific passage came to mind. See it quoted below and then I can explain the relevance.

Genesis 1:1-2 In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.

The clouds hovering over the crater made me wonder what the earth looked like during the creation process. It would have been a sight to see. God said and it happened. Pretty nifty.

What Tanzanian Hip Hop Sounds Like...and how I got married

2008-07-28T22:35:00.000-07:00

Today we went to this place called Aang Serian - House of Pace. They have numerous projects, but the one we were involved with is called DIRA. Check out their video on YouTube. They take youth you have talent and interested in music, specifically hip hop, and have them set their traditional tribal songs to urban beats. They also convey themes about FGM, HIV, politics, children's rights, etc. They were pretty good from what I could understand and what was translated for me.

From there we headed to Karatu. It's just outside of the Crater conservation area. We checked into the Lutheran Hostel which was very nice. Everyone went on a walk while I stayed behind to journal in the courtyard. After a few minutes Chris comes to the main gate and calls me over. He's got seven adorable kids with him. It didn't take much convincing to have me walk with him to take these kids home. (Where they came from is a whole other very long story not too relevant to this one.) On our way back, we were stopped by this man who chatted us up. Eventually he asked us for a scholarship to send his daughter to school. Funds for that sort of thinking are in short supply here. He invited us back to his place and of course Chris said that we would come. It would have been rude not to go. I went along nervously and reluctantly, but I trust him and his Swahili is much better than mine. The long and short of it...in the end, the guy asked Chris if I was his wife. He didn't say no which was for my benefit and that's how I became his third wife. His first is a Uzbek gal he met last fall and the second is a girl named Siri that is on the trip with us. Now it is the standing joke that I am the third wife.

And that is that...more about the crater later. :)

What an example!

2008-07-27T18:00:00.000-07:00

Today we went to our facilitator's church. It is an off shoot of a local Lutheran church. Very cute and far out in the sticks. Having never been to a Lutheran service, I was in for something completely new. The majority of the service was conducted in Kimeru which I know none of and the message was in Kiswahili. I only caught a few words here and there. The pastor greeted us and we had to introduce ourselves to the congregation of about 220 in broken Kiswahili.

Even though I understood very little of what was going on, I completely felt God's presence there. I was moved by the love, grace and compassion I saw in the people. They also were big givers: four offerings total and i think everyone gave something even if it was just 100 shillings.

After the service, there is an auction every week of items people bring. The proceeds are used to buy building materials as they are trying to finish their church still. We all brought something and my fabric went for 12000 shillings. Quite the pretty penny...and I thought no one would like it. :)

After church, we were sent out with different families for lunch and a "get to know the village" time. My host family was nice. Mama and Baba were quiet, but kind. The village tour was interesting. The highlight for me was seeing the village dispensary and the closed maternity ward. The maternity ward is over 75 years old. It was recently closed because it is falling apart. When women in the village need to have a baby, they either walk 3km to the next clinic or hope a birth attendant can get to their house. I think I'd like to help build them a new one. It's surprisingly inexpensive by our standards. It's something I will be praying about.

Apa, Sopa. Takwenya, Iko.

2008-07-26T23:15:00.000-07:00

This is going to be more lackluster than usual. I'm tired and don't have many words though I hope you enjoy my little journey.

Saturday morning bright and early we set out for visits. First, we went to Peace House Secondary School. It was nice and their mission and projects are cool, but the best part is the Volunteer Coordinator that we were touring with is from Daingerfield - right down the road from my home town.

From there we started on the longest drive so far to Mondouli. We stopped there for water then headed to the Maasai market/homestead of Mondouli Jou. It was a long way up this hill on the bumpiest road yet complete with hairpin turns. It is market day so all along the way there are people dragging animals and carts of goods to market. Coming up the drive a Masaai market is something to see. The landscape is brown with hits of green against the bluest sky, then you see red...lots of it. Warriors dressed in traditional fabric and women with full beaded regalia selling vegetables. The long and short of it is that we went to the market and got strange looks as usual. I think I even got cussed out in Kimaa, but since I couldn't understand her, I'm only guessing.

We went on a long tour of the area; up and down and back again. It was something to see. Most notably was the drinking water source: a small pond in a rocky alcove covered with green slime and pollen. Yum. It was rather depressing to see. Small kids were hauling this water up the hill for drinking and cooking with. The only thing I could think about was doing a culture to see what was growing in it. I probably don't need to know.

To explain the title: those works are traditional Kimaa greeting and their replies. There is a whole host of rules that go along with who you say what to when and what the appropriate response is.

The day was absolutely gorgeous though. And I'm out of words... :)

Beating Flowers and Beeping Bugs

2008-07-25T22:56:00.000-07:00

I think I should explain the beeping bugs part...it is much needed comedy of sorts. There is this strange bug which I have yet to see though it keeps me up at night. It beeps like an alarm clock continually...like all night. It is a high pitched fast beep that is absolutely ear piercing. That is one bug that could go extinct and I wouldn't care! Secondly, we have nocturnal monkeys...they run around on our tin roofs and throw fruit. Why are they nocturnal? Day time would much improve their aim in hitting things instead of my roof!

On to beating flowers...a strange occupation. Before the flowers, how we ended up smacking seeds and dying our hands purple. Part of our orientation is to visit a maize and bean farmer. This year he added sunflowers to the rotation. They are grown for the seeds which are pressed into oil after they are dried.

We start our journey to the farm. It is about 35 or 40 minutes from where we are staying. As always the village is down a long, dusty, rutted road. My seat has yet to forgive me. As we pull into the driveway of the farmer we are to visit, his wife and sister-in-law come running down the drive to meet us cheering and showering the car with flower petals. They were through them in the windows and of us as we got out of the car. I have never seen anyone so happy to meet strangers. When we got out of the vehicle Mama was nearly in tears. She insisted that we come in the house before we started out lecture outside. She said that having guests in her house was a blessing. She opened with a prayer before we did introductions. Mama Martha was praying in Kiswahili and I could only pick out a few words, yet I knew God was there. After introductions, we headed outside for chai and Q & A with the family. Next, it was on to the fields. First, we had to water the tomato garden by hand after drawing the water. The well was a hole in the ground surrounded by a tractor tire to keep people from falling in. We hoisted up the water from 30 or 40 feet and filled 5 gallon buckets to dump on the plants. It took several trips to make this happen. Then was the sunflowers. Mama cut the stalks of the ones that needed the flowers cut off. The flower needed to be dried up or the seeds weren't ready. Half of the group had knives to remove the flower heads from the stalk and the rest of us gathered them up to put in a donkey pulled cart. We cleared probably half an acre in a little over an hour.

After the clearing, came the beating. We walk to the place where it is to be done, surrounded by livestock of course, and a host of small children that heard that Wazungu (white people) were here working. The cart was done and we began the deed. Smack the flower as hard as necessary with the stump of a stick until the seeds all fall out. This took forever and my arms are still not speaking to me. It's going to take quite a bit of washing for the purple stains to come off of my hands.

Finally all of the flowers were done and I was a bit crispy, then we spread them out to dry. Back to the house we headed for colas and leaving for a village tour. At the end of the day we all were invited back and the family was happy to share their home and life with us.

This entire experience was quite moving. The amount of hospitality was amazing. There really are no words to describe how humbling it was to get the greeting and farewell we did.

Off Roading in Africa

2008-07-24T21:15:00.000-07:00

So I've finished two days here. It's been an absolute adventure. I feel like I've already been here for a month or so. The one thing I noticed is how much Tanzanians love food. I think I've been eating, either meals or chai, every three hours or so since I got on the plane in Amsterdam. I can say that it has been really good. I never thought I'd like banana and beef stew (that was part of lunch today) but it's pretty amazing. Also makande...it's beans boiled with coconut and a bit of meat. It's pretty tasty too. Nothing beats a glass of fresh mango juice or fresh pineapple. By fresh I mean grown next door and picked this morning. It's so much better than the produce in the supermarket. I'll be spoiled when I come home. Bananas here even taste good. :)

Today's big adventure was going to a coffee farm. I got to try my hand at harvesting, preparing and roasting coffee. It was interesting to see the process of how these farmers produce the beans that end up in your cup at Starbucks. The adventurous part was actually getting there. We pack 14 people in a Land rover and head up a muddy hill (it rained all night and most of the morning...it was really cold today too. I've spent the day in several layers and a hoodie). We tired to make it up the first road with no success. We got halfway up and proceeded to slide/somewhat controlled reverse down the hill. Then we went the other way. It was a rutted muddy road. All of us chicas in the back were clinging on for dear life and laughing like crazy. It was too much fun! There were a few times I thought we were going to get stuck though. Going back down was just as much fun...with a little more (controlled) sliding involved.

I have the chance to bring a few kilos of fresh coffee home...anyone interested? If so, please leave me a comment and I can place an order for you. I'll need it in the next two or three days though.

Arrival and Basic Details

2008-07-23T22:46:00.000-07:00

The flights went well, though it was a long journey. Upon arrival in Arusha Monday night, we checked into the Training Center for Development Cooperation. I'm staying alone in green unit number 7. To emphasize the green theme...my curtains, door, tile, sink, toilet, shower curtain, and chair are all green. I've always wanted a canopy bed. I have one now; it's just a mosquito net.

On our first day, we went to Lake Dhuliti for a Kiswahili lesson and a picnic. Then we headed to three different markets. I bought my kangas. Kangas are long sheets of colorful, patterned cloth women wrap over their clothes. At the last market there was an enormous section of second hand clothes being sold. It was almost overwhelming; the amount of clothing was amazing. I’ll be writing more about this later as it inspired quite a few thoughts about American benevolence and poverty. I also had to ward off the one-eyed beggar that tried to claim me as his girlfriend! Luckily a loud protest and hand gestures did the trick. :)

Memories on Yellow Paper through the Jaws of Death

2008-07-19T14:39:00.000-07:00

In preparing to leave, I promised myself that I would clean out all of the College Life Ministry files that were left. I knew what most everything was, so it would be less time consuming if I took care of it all. Pretty much everything was the way I left it 18 months ago.

I found in the midst the stack of brown visitor cards stapled to their bright yellow guest follow up sheets. Each of those cards represents to me one more life we had the chance to touch. As most of them were at two or three years old, policy is to shred them. I couldn't bear the thought of throwing them in the box to be shredded by some one who didn't understand the significance of each of those names. As I took the few minutes to do the deed myself, I reflected on that period in my life - running a young adults ministry. It was the best time in my life and it was the hardest.

Departing from Gate A37...

2008-07-19T12:54:00.000-07:00

OK, so that's not the exact gate number, but you get the idea. I fly away tomorrow night! Yikes! I need three more days to even feel like I'm ready to go. I need company while I pack and I'm most certainly accepting visitors. I miss all of you already! I got intense butterflies for the first time today about leaving. I know it will all pass....it's the nerves about walking into so many unknowns.

Back to work now...It's finally my last day!

"Shanea, when you come home, I'm taking you on a shopping spree."

2008-07-14T13:17:00.001-07:00

The title of this post is the key line I remember from a voice mail I had on my phone Sunday morning. It was my friend Karen calling. I couldn't figure out why she left this message and asked me to call her. She had agreed to store the majority of my clothes and linens while I am away so I didn't have to ship them home or rent a storage facility. Everything was neatly packed in Space Bags. I wondered...(i.e. the conversation with myself in my head) "Did her house flood? No, the clothes are in bags. They can't be squished if the bed broke she was storing them under. The house catch on fire? I just saw her sister and she looks rather calm. Oh my gosh, is Karen OK? No that can't be it. Hmmmm...am I that poor of a dresser?...I did wear jeans to work this week. We were just talking about clothes....maybe she won a sweepstakes and wants to just take me shopping...."

I finally called her back and Karen's first question was, "Are you sitting down?" Yes, I said....(thinking...this can't be good) She proceeds..."Well, I'm taking you shopping when you get home. My car was stolen and all of the clothes you gave me to take home were still in the trunk."

I think "Oh Wow!" My suits, dresses, linens, costumes, and bedding! In the end, it's not something that I won't get over. I lost a few of Jeremy's things I still had and one blanket from my Grandmother. They are just things. Karen is OK and that is important. Who knows....maybe I'll need a new wardrobe when I get home.

The Party

2008-07-13T09:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the first of the two depature bashes. It was a gerogrous day at Sunnyside. The only thing that could have made it better would have been more parking spaces. There was a wedding and a birthday party going on.

All of the ladies from the Y came out. It was great to spend time with them. I have so much food left over, I've modified the menu for Monday's party. Leftovers it is...No need to waste anything right?

I couldn't ask for better friends. They are all so amazing and supportive! I can't wait to come back to them. They make it worth staying here!

I spent the afternoon luaghing with friends and playing with one of the coolest dogs ever! If I aver have a dog, I need a Jake!

Oh, the knot in my chest!

2008-07-09T15:19:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning with the feeling of stress! I think it's all starting to hit me. I woke up to a room that was a disaster and feeling like I just need a day to clean and pack up what is staying here. I still have to read and take my pre-departure exam that is due sooner than I care to admit. More Kiswahili lessons wouldn't hurt either. I know I'll survive. I'm feeling this way because I'm tired. Tiredness doesn't negate the legitimate feeling though.

I'm looking forward to this weekend and the week to follow. I know it's going to be a lot, but it's part of the journey. I spoke with a good friend/mentor yesterday and she helped put a lot of this in perspective. It was an encouraging conversation that really helped me out.

If I ever do this over, the one things I would do differently is work less prior to my departure. The money is great, but there has been little self-care time. I'm hoping to make it home relatively early tonight and get some things done. Really, thought, I want to sleep. :)

Have Courage?

2008-07-07T13:06:00.000-07:00

Courage: mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.

I've come to realize in the last few months that I've lost some courage. It's more of a slow eating away in my confidence that I'll be safe and everything will work out; this is not only in regards to my trip to Tanzania but also my life in general.

I think that part of this journey for me is a restoration of my courage. Not recklessness, but courage to live without hesitation. I am challenging myself to muster up the courage to explore and prove to myself that I am the person I remember. I've gone through my guide book and looked for places to go and things to do...and I plan on doing them. Maybe not all of them, but I want to get out and experience Tanzania.

In the past few years, I've gone through some circumstances that have caused me to be less than my adventurous self. This is a journey back to the heart of who I am and a time of reflection on the things I know I want to do with my life. I'm puling out this mission statement that I wrote several years ago during my first year with Street Rock. I think that was the time in my life where I had the clearest picture of where I was headed. It may be rudimentary, but I can build on it. I truly believe that I heard clearly and discerned with my heart what I should know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Psalm 27:14 Wait on the LORD;
Be of good courage,
And He shall strengthen your heart;
Wait, I say, on the LORD!

Packing and Gift Giving

2008-07-01T16:15:00.000-07:00

I thought that I was almost done shopping and on my way to packing for this trip. I recently found out that I have further gift purchases to make. What I bought already feels completely inadequate or inappropriate. Now I'm headed back to the store...multiple stores at this point to get what I think I need. Yikes! Twenty, yes 20, days from now, I'll be in the Amsterdam airport hoping that what I packed is sufficent and that no one has or will rifle through my bags. I have no idea how I'm going to get it all there. Barbara said to pack light...I think I'm trying. I have no idea how to narrow down what I need for clothes especially in regards to my newly developed photosensitivity...the last two times I've gotten in the sun, I break out in hives. Ick!

Gift giving is a big tradition and expectation. I have no idea how to give approproiate gift that still are a bit unique to reflect me.

29 Days!

2008-06-22T09:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the one month mark. I think the butterflies hit in full swing. I am so excited to be leaving, but I am realized even more the little things I know I'm going to miss. I'm trying to focus on the experiences I going to have, though that little missing it before I'm gone feeling still sticks sometimes.

In preparation for my departure, I went shopping yesterday for the things I know I'm going to need. I went without a written list. When I compared my purchases when I came home, I did pretty well. The only big things I forgot were a watch with an alarm, duct tape, and vitamins. Nothing too major seeing I still have a few weeks.

I was reading my Oswald Chambers devotional a few days ago and the quote below really stuck with me. I think I've read it every year and when I get back to it there is a whole new meaning uncovered.

If you debate for a second when God has spoken, it is all up. Never begin to say - "Well, I wonder if He did speak?" Be reckless immediately, fling it all out on Him. You do not know when His voice will come, but whenever the realization of God comes in the faintest way imaginable, recklessly abandon. It is only by abandon that you recognize Him. You will only realize His voice more clearly by recklessness.

I feel as though this is what this trip is for me. I believe that God said, "Go." I'm throwing it all out there in faith believing that while I am gone more of who I am will be revealed to me through His awesomeness and the expereince and reflection I will have. What will be of me when I return...I have no idea. I do know that I will grow.

...like a warm, comfortable bed...

2008-06-04T01:41:00.000-07:00

I've been reading in preparation for my trip and I came across the following quote in the book. It caused me to think a bit...
Good memories are like a warm, comfortable bed after a tiring day. They receive the tired soul like a mother who takes a child that runs to her for safety into her cuddly embrace. Good memories say: here, everything will be okay again. They open windows and so hope gets an extended lease.
Memories are the things that sustain us when it's hard to see the end. I know they have given me life...and a bit of heartache. I've been reflecting on good memories and so many of them have been shared with you all. I'll soon be making more that I can share with you. It won't be first-hand, but I promise to be an engaging story teller upon my return.

Writing about leaving...

2008-05-23T00:15:00.000-07:00

Yes, I found another one while I was packing. I wrote this in Anthropology one day after I found out that I was going to Tanzania. Mostly personal reflection.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What may happen?
I don't know
I do know that I must go
Something will be said
Maybe done

Could catastrophe or rain come? (Monsoons?)
Death knock on the door,
Love bloom, longing grow or end?

I'll come back
Then know...even
If only in part.