It's Been a Long Time

I know! I know! It’s been forever since my last entry and I’m sorry. But I am still alive and I am still here in Tanzania. I will try to be better about posting more frequently :)

It’s summer here now, and the days are getting hotter and hotter. I try to make a point of taking my bucket bath mid-day at the height of the heat so as to stay a bit cooler. It has almost been a month since my family came for their visit. Time is going by so quickly and I can’t believe there are only about 8-9 months left now before my service is up. Having my family here was amazing and I was so happy to be able to show them all of the things that they’ve only gotten to hear about for the past year and a half. They were here for 3 weeks. They came down to Masasi and stayed with me in my village for 3 days, which was one of my favorite parts of their stay. It was perfect timing for them to get here, because cashew season had just started so they got to go to the farm with Mama Swaum and her family for a day as cashew farmers. It was a long day, and a lot of work, but they got to learn a lot about the cashew, and see first hand how my villagers spend their days and earn their living. After we had gotten through the large pile of cashew apples, separating the nut from the apple and throwing them into piles, Baba Swaum started to build a fire to roast some so that everyone could have a taste. I was glad that they got to see the process from start to finish, from gathering all of the cashews from the trees, to separating them from the apple, to roasting them, and then banging off the hard charred shell with a stick, until finally they got to eat them. It seems like so long ago, but I think before I became a villager here, I never really questioned where the cashews in America came from when I bought them already packaged in the supermarket. It’s a question that many villagers ask me, and to be honest I’m still not perfectly sure. There is a large distribution center in my village, where my villagers sell their cashews after harvesting them. Then, the cashews are shipped to Dar es Salaam, and from there I’ve been told that some shipments make it to places in Europe even. They aren’t roasted or shelled before they are shipped, but they are sent to factories, where they are actually boiled and shelled and packaged. You can only get the really delicious roasted cashews from your friends here in the village. And I have to say, that before tasting the roasted cashews here, I didn’t know that the cashew could taste so good.
After leaving my village, my family and I went to Mtwara Town for a few days, and then flew to Arusha. We had one week of safaris with our amazing safari guide, Godfrey. We stayed at various camps throughout Tanganire Park, Ngorongoro Crater, and the Serengetti. We got to see all of the animals on our Africa safari checklist: lions, rhinos (although only a couple and very far away), elephant, leopard, zebra, hyena, and warthog. After the safaris, we stayed in Zanzibar for a week at Pongwe Beach, which was one of the most beautiful beaches I've gotten to see. This was such an amazing trip and there is just too much to tell: phantom wild cats crawling in bed with me at night, my brother playing guitar with a bunch of Masaai, going snorkeling in Zanzibar with Don Cheetle as our guide, hiking Poo mountain and getting held over the edge of a waterfall to catch a glimpse of the mysterious Great White Banana which sat 45 meters below, taking a boat ride from a guy named Bush Baby to feed the most enormous tortoises I’ve ever seen. There are so many more highlights, and chances are if you are reading this, then you know my mother and I’m sure you can get all of the details, and take a look at the thousands of pictures she took. It was so great to see my family after being away for so long, and I am so grateful that they got to come experience Tanzania.

But now, I am back in my village, trying to get back to work after my nice long vacation. I am working with one of the secondary school teachers, Mwalimu Ngaponda, once a week for an afterschool community theater club. The goal of the club is to promote behavior change as well as increase the general knowledge of the youth concerning HIV/AIDS, and factors within their own community that add to the epidemic. Through the use of participatory theater, dance, and singing, the students come up with creative ways that they can present these issues to the rest of the community, and promote knowledge of the virus and lifestyle changes. Also, I’m still trying to get the drilling project happening. The grant has been submitted and there are some budgeting issues but it is still under review. The slow progress with this project has been discouraging, but I’m holding on and waiting to see what happens. But another project, which I am excited about starting, is a World Map project at the primary school. I am talking with the head master about painting a large world map on the side of the one of the school buildings and having the students help to paint and label to countries. The cement and blue paint for the ocean has been bought and we plan to start next week.
I have just returned from a trip to Newala. I met up with Ben, Toni, and Katie there. We are planning to have a girl’s empowerment conference in March, so we were working on some lesson plan ideas and logistics for the conference. Also, December 1st is World AIDS Day, and Ben, Toni, and Katie are planning an event in their three villages that day. There will be HIV testing and counseling, as well as music and performances about the effects of AIDS in their communities. It should be a fun event so I will be there for that to lend a hand where I can.
After charging my computer, and finishing up work in Newala, I set out to catch a bus headed to back to Masasi. Luckily, there was one waiting at the bus stand so I climbed in and grabbed a seat. There was nobody else on the bus, so despite the fact that the engine was running, I knew I would be sitting there for at least an hour. A man boarded the bus and greeted me with my name. At first I was confused because I didn’t know him, but found out that his name was Donald and he was actually from my village, and heading back home as well. He had come to Newala looking for a certain kind of large water jug, which he could then peddle around the village to sell. Unfortunately, he hadn’t found them in Newala that day. My village is along the road from Newala to Masasi, so I was going to get off the bus a bit early and then find some kind of ride for the 7 kilometers off the main road to get to Nanjota. Donald told me that he had ridden his bike to Chiungutwa that morning and left it there, so if I wanted we could just both get off there and then he could bike me the rest of the way home. Chiungutwa is also along the road to Masasi, but it is much further away. We would have to pass through Chiungutwa, and then Masuguru, another village, before reaching Nanjota. I asked him if he was sure that he could manage my big butt on his bike with him for such a long ways, and he laughed and assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem. I sat to think about it for a while, while we finally left the stand. At one of the stops along the way, he bought me a leg of bus chicken from out of the window, so I decided we could be travel buddies. Who knew? I had never gone home that way before, maybe it would be good to take a different road for once and see a new village. We both got off of the bus at the Chiungutwa stop. I followed him into the village for about a 10-minute walk to his sister’s house where he left his bike. The bike is pretty beaten up, but there is air in the tires and a metal rack on the back for me to sit on. Donald made sure his tire sandals were secure and then he got his feet on the pedals…or pedal I mean. There was no pedal on one side; all that remained was a metal bar. I don’t know how many miles away from Nanjota we were, I knew that I’m glad I wasn’t the one riding the one-pedaled bike barefoot on a dirt road with my big butt on the back. As we started to set off, a large, gray, aminous cloud filled the sky. Donald says he better ride home fast today. I got on the back off the bike and we began to ride through Chiungutwa and off the main road. Not ten minutes later, the wind picked up, and a few large raindrops began to fall. Donald stopped for a minute and said we could just keep going unless I wanted to wait under the cashew tree. I wanted to keep going. I had my backpack turned around on my front side. He asked if he could put his phone in my bag to keep dry, so I secured it deep in my bag. It’s as if somehow he knew what we were in for. Electronics secure, I hopped back on the bike and we moved forward again through the farms and back village of Chiungutwa. All at once, rain started pouring out of the sky, and the wind picked up. It was as if someone just turned on a huge shower. Donald kept pushing through. The wind blew harder until the rain began to feel like needles on my skin. I was sopping wet, and assured myself that at least I wouldn’t have to take a bath or wash these clothes when I got home. This thought was in my head for about two seconds before the mud from the back tire splashed up into my face. I was huddled over my bag, and couldn’t even open my eyes without getting whipped by the wind and the rain. I don’t know how he was still pedaling, let alone seeing where he was going, but Donald kept moving forward as I could feel the wind trying to blow us over on his trusty bike. This went on for a few minutes before we had to get off and just start walking. As we walked, we tried to avoid the river that was forming in the tire tracks of the dirt road that we were climbing. Donald reassured me that once we got over the hill in front of us, our village was not far beyond it…which now I know is a lie. We walked for maybe 20 minutes through the storm. We passed a woman who got caught in the storm as well on her way to the mill with a bucket of corn. When the rain and wind finally let up a bit, we got back on the bike. We were still riding through puddles and mud. Donald suddeny stopped and I got off the bike. I asked him if something was wrong, and was hoping his bike hadn’t broken or something. He threw his bike down in the mud and yelled, “Maembe!” which means mangoes in Kiswahili. He ran to the tall grass underneath a tree and started to collect the tiny mangoes. Mango season has just started, so there are mangoes everywhere, but often the children are pretty quick to snatch them up once they fall from the trees. We were in the middle of some farmland, and it was raining rats and goats, so we had all of these mangoes to ourselves. I ran over to the tree to help him collect the mangoes and put them in my bag. After we gathered about 20 mangoes, we got back on the bike. It was still raining like crazy, but secretly I was pretty glad that he stopped in the middle of the storm to pick up some mangoes. They’re delicious! The ride took about an hour total. We crossed the boundary to my village just as the sky cleared and sun revealed itself again. He pulled right up to my house, and I hop off of his bike. My hair was all over my face and my soaked skirt was clinging itself to my butt and legs…I didn’t feel very pretty, but I was happy to be home. I grabbed a plastic bag and we split the mangoes between us. I started to see what money I had and he insisted that I not pay him. I told him he was a crazy loon who just peddled my butt up a dirt hill through a thunderstorm, and shoved 3,000 shillings in his hand. He was very grateful and said we’d see each other around the village before he hopped on his bike and rode away. I can’t say this was my most efficient trip back home, but I did get a new friend out of it, and it was definitely the most exciting journey I've had trying to get back into my village.

What Goes On

I was sitting at my Ward Officer’s house one afternoon when she saw a young boy walking by the window. She called him over to ask him a few questions. His name was Hashimu. As she sat inside the house, he stood timidly outside the doorway and answered her quietly with his eyes to the ground. She was asking him how things were going at home and why he hadn’t started school. After he left, she told me that he had finished primary school this year and had been at the top of his class. But he hadn’t been able to continue onto secondary school because he didn’t have enough money. His father had died a number of years ago, and his mother was handicapped and could only farm a bit in order to get by. He was able to continue through primary school with the help of a government funded program which aids orphans and vulnerable children with school fees. But students stop receiving aid from this program after finishing primary school. By this time, Hashimu had been working on people’s farms trying to earn enough to be able to continue on with his classmates, but he had only been able to buy as much as a few notebooks and school shoes at that point.
When I left my WEO’s house, I couldn’t get Hashimu’s story out of my head. I stopped to talk to the headmaster of the primary school, Mwalimu Mawilo. He told me that Hashimu was always a great student and on many occasions he even taught some classes, as the number of teachers was always too few. Upon completing the final exit exam at the end of primary school, he scored the highest for the village and the Ward of Nanjota, which includes six neighboring villages. He also scored seventh highest for the District of Masasi, and ranked 52 for the entire region of Mtwara. I was really impressed to hear how well he had done, especially given the knowledge that in order to do that well within these schools, the students really have to be motivated and hard working to teach themselves with a lack of books and sufficient teachers in the classrooms everyday. I decided that I wanted to figure out a way to help Hashimu. It seemed such a waste to see someone with such potential to have his education limited by the struggles he’s faced thus far in his life. There are so many people in the village that don’t even get to finish primary school let alone pass the test to go on to secondary school, but here was a kid who wanted nothing more than to continue with school.
I sought him out and sat down with him to talk and get to know him a bit. He was very quiet and soft spoken. We talked about his family and America, and why I had come. And then I told him that I wanted to help him with school, but that I didn’t want to just pay his way. I had him write down everything he still needed in order to start and the total cost, which only ended up being 53,000 shillings. We ended up writing out an agreement stating that he would continue to work when he could and save up money for the following school years. In addition he would work with me and teach introductory English to the younger students at the primary school once a week. In exchange, I would help pay for his school for this year. He would be 3 months late, but he was very excited to start and assured me that he would have no problem catching up. We went to Masasi that weekend to do some back-to-school-shopping. We got some pens, uniform pants, a school bag, and his medical form filled out at the hospital. He started school the following Monday. Now, he comes to my house almost every afternoon to visit and talk about how school is going. He recently got the second highest score on an English test, even though he just got back into school a month ago. I am very excited for him and was nervous at first about helping him, but he seems to be catching up pretty quickly and is really enjoying being back in school. He is also in the Form 1 English class that I teach so its fun to be in the classroom with him once a week.


I have also continued to teach Life Skills. A couple of weeks ago, the lesson was about HIV prevention and we discussed the 3 primary ways to protect oneself from infection: abstinence, being faithful, and proper use of a condom. I did a condom demonstration for the class that day. I rode up to school on my bicycle with a crate of soda bottles tied behind me. As I entered the classroom I could see that the students were quite excited with the prospect of getting sodas for the day. I quickly informed them that in fact the bottles were empty and we would be using them for another exercise. Then I presented each pair of students with a bottle and a condom and told them we would be learning how to use condoms properly. Although the joking and giggling didn’t subside for the length of the demonstration, they all got an opportunity to ask questions that would have otherwise gone unanswered, and I think that they took away a lot of new and important information that day about how to effectively protect themselves. When asked, many of them said that they had never even seen a condom, so I’m glad that they got the opportunity to learn more about them, especially since many are undoubtedly sexually active.


The rats in my house have been getting out of control, so I decided that it was time for drastic measures: I needed to find a big mean cat to scare them away. So I enlisted Mama Swaum to help me with my quest. One day she told me that she had found a neighbor whose cat had just had a litter. We planned to go get the cat the following afternoon. We left Mama Swaum’s house and set out to find the cat. I had my 1000 shillings ready to pay for him, and I was quite excited about getting a new roommate to replace the rats. But before I can tell you about the cat, you must know what we ran into on the way to get the cat. On the way to the neighbor’s house, we walked by an old bibi sitting on the ground on the side of the dirt pathway. She had a small bucket next to her and a rag in her hand. As we walked by, I greeted her and continued to look back at her to try and figure out what she was doing. She noticed and called me back over and told me to take a look. I looked at Mama Swaum who laughed a bit and told me to go over and see. I returned to the bibi as she picked up the small bucket to show me the pile of huge green and spiky caterpillars that were wriggling around inside. She took one in her hand with the rag and pinched its thumb-sized body in the middle. Then she grabbed a stick in her other hand and put it up to the back end of the grub. Then she turned her body away, as if she were preparing to fire a gun and wanted to make sure she didn’t hit anybody. At this point I have a vague idea of what is going to happen, but didn’t want to believe it. Then in one quick motion she shoves the stick up the back end of the still wriggling caterpillar, and a stream of green goo shoots out of the front of it like some kind of insect water gun. I let out the biggest gasp of my life and started running away but found myself returning, curious with what would happen next. Its spiky skin is left around the stick and its now lifeless gooey pus-like body is revealed. She plops the carcass into a small bowl with the others which she has already skinned. I am stunned and all I can find to say is “Utakula?” or “Are you gonna eat that?!” She and Mama Swaum are erupting with laughter at the sight of my disgust, and she replies with a “Ndio!,” or “Yes, of course!” I decided I didn’t want to stick around to watch another execution, so we thanked her for showing us and continued on our quest for the cat. As I look back at her with fear and disgust, she was still sitting and firing off her green squirt guns while letting out an unsettling laugh each time. As we walked away even Mama Swaum told me that she doesn’t eat those. Only “watu wachafu”, or “dirty people” resort to eating the grubs. I couldn’t get the image of the caterpillar skinning out of my head for the rest of the day. I have definitely gone outside my comfort zone when it comes to trying new foods since I’ve been in Tanzania, but I think that I would have to draw the line with those grubs.
After we left the bibi, we arrived at the house to retrieve my long awaited cat. We talked for a bit and took a look at what she had available. All she had left was a small timid black cat. I gave her my 1000 shillings, and she threw it in a burlap sack and handed it to me. I felt bad carrying her home in the sack, but I knew that once we got there she would have a much more pleasant life than she would have had otherwise. The first night she was very scared and didn’t really want to come out and play. I was a little worried, but over the next couple of days she grew accustom to her new home and me. Before I knew it, I couldn’t get her to shut up and leave me alone no matter how hard I tried. After getting to know her a bit better, I decided to name her Mona, because she didn’t seem to do much else other than whine and moan at me. But, the good news is that even the rats couldn’t handle her moaning and they decided to pack up and leave. The bad news is that I’m now stuck with this moaning cat. But I have to admit that it is nice to have the company at times. And I even woke up the other morning to find her first rat victim, or what was left of him, so at least she’s doing her job.


Last week, I was talking to my friend, Kano at the soko, which is the small shopping area in the village. He owns a small mgahawa, or restaurant (and by restaurant I mean small room with a bench and a table where you don’t order, but rather you eat whatever’s hot and ready at the time). At Kano’s mgahawa, you can usually get chai and maandazi. Maandazi are a bit similar to doughnuts, but are much simpler, only calling for flour, baking powder, water and a bit of salt and sugar. I began talking to him about American doughnuts. He was very interested in how we make them, and how there are many different flavors. He asked me if I wouldn’t mind teaching him how to make doughnuts. So he gave me some money so I could go to town and buy the necessary ingredients that couldn’t be found in the village. I got some eggs, milk powder, vanilla, butter, and powdered sugar. The next day, I went to his mgahawa and we made some American doughnuts! As we mixed the dough on the wooden table in the small room behind the front room, there was a large crowd beginning to form and peek in curiously, wondering what it was that we were making. With every question, Kano always responded with a huge grin on his face and simply replied, “Sio maandazi…ni doonusss!” He was very excited to be making American doughnuts. We started joking around, and I told him that I would be sure to have America put his little shop in the guide books for Tanzania, so that tourists will know to make the long trek down to the south where despite the dust and rats, they can feel right at home at “Kano’s Donuts.” We made about 50 doughnuts that day, half powdered sugar, and half cinnamon sugar. He sold them in his shop for 500 shillings each, which was quite a price difference from his usual 100- shilling maandazi. But the novelty of the doughnut in the village drove everyone’s curiosity and he sold them all. I had many people asking me how nutritious they were, to which I had to reply that doughnuts are in no way healthy, but they are delicious and they are food, which is usually a good enough answer for a Tanzanian. Many villagers enjoyed them, and Kano was very excited to have brought a little bit of America into his small Nanjota mgahawa. He asked me if I could get some more eggs and milk for him from town so we could make them again. The second time we made glazed doughnuts. They were much different and far sweeter than the bland maandazi that every Tanzanian knows and loves all too well, but I think Kano enjoyed the glaze. After finishing glazing the doughnuts, he was ready to lick the rest of the glaze out of the bowl.


Over the past few weeks, progress with the ladies’ chicken group has slowed down. Many have been busy with harvesting their farms and the group was at a bit of a stand still for a while. I was beginning to get discouraged and am still not sure how successful the group will end up being. Many women decided to quit coming to meetings when they found out that I would not in fact be handing out chickens to everyone. But it was good to see those women who did continue to come week after week, who made a point to let me know that they understood that I was there to help educate them about better chicken raising practices as well as offer advice to help the group succeed. Step one for the group is going to be building a group chicken coop. Luckily, there is one already built in the village, which resulted from a previous failed chicken group. The village agricultural officer took a look at it, and said that after a few revisions, it would be a great space for the group’s chickens. So now the ladies are collecting thatch and trees to build the fence, as well as collecting group donations in order to pay for a fundi to make the necessary repairs on the “banda”, or coop.


My close associate and fellow PCV, Ben, is also working on a chicken-raising project in his village. They have all worked very hard, making 1200 bricks from nothing but dirt and water, and building their chicken coop from the ground up…. using nothing but dirt and water. Each of the 20 group members has decided to contribute one hen for the group, but they still needed some roosters. So Ben ventured out to Masasi to see a man about a rooster. He was on a search for an improved breed, known as the “Kuchi” breed, which would help increase production, both in egg laying and size of the chickens. I met him in town and we talked to a man named John, who works for a local NGO, which does sustainable agricultural work in local villages in the Mtwara region. He found two Kuchi roosters for Ben and had brought them to the office for him that day. There would be 20 hens, so it was necessary to get 2 roosters. They cost 15,000 shillings each. They were the biggest roosters I had seen in a while. There was one white one with black spotted feathers and one red-orange one. We decided they needed names. The white one was dubbed Lady Gaga, while the red one was called Little Jerry Seinfeld. The plan was to take these two roosters back to Newala that day. So we would each need to carry one on the two and half hour bus ride back up the plateau. Having never held a rooster before, I asked John if he had any special pointers so that Lady Gaga wouldn’t be able to escape. He showed me that the best way to hold him was to tuck Lady Gaga under one arm, holding his legs together, and sticking his rear end to the front. So Ben and I grabbed the roosters, thanked John for all his help, and set out towards the bus stand, with Lady Gaga and Little Jerry Seinfeld tucked securely under our arms. From that point on, the progression of cock jokes that ensued for the duration of our safari was never-ending. “I guess I gotta hold my cock all the way back up the plateau,” Ben started us off. “ Who’s cock do you think is bigger, mine or yours?” I quickly retorted. As we were walking down the dirt road on the way to the dusty bus stand with the roosters under our arms, I took a look at the situation I had gotten myself into, and had a thought about where my life had taken me at that moment and how unexpected it all was. I never could have foreseen that I would be walking down the road in Tanzania with a rooster under my arm getting ready to go off-roading in a beat up bus all the way up the Makonde plateau…not to mention the amazing person that I found along the way to go for the ride along with me. Everything about the situation seemed so surreal. We found the Newala bus and quickly got some seats. As we were sitting and waiting for the bus to leave, Lady Gaga was getting a little antsy, and started screaming and flailing. “My cock’s ready to blow! I gotta get this cock under control.” A vendor selling baskets stuck his head in the bus door. Ben bought one and we quickly stuck Lady Gaga inside so that he would calm down. The bus started to pull out of the stand and we began our journey back up the plateau. A better part of the trip is on unpaved road, and it was a bumpy ride. The bus took one big jolt, as Little Jerry Seinfeld’s eyes widened and he started to stand up. “That last one got my cock a little excited,” Ben said. We made a number of stops along the way, because although the seats were full, that never means there still isn’t room on the bus. As more and more people piled onto the bus and crammed themselves into the aisle, space became more and more limited. One woman was basically squeezed on top of Ben, not far from Little Jerry Seinfeld. As her back end drew nearer, Ben told me, “If this lady gets any closer to my cock, we’re gonna be in trouble.” After two and half hours, many bumps, and many laughs, we finally made it back to Newala and back to Ben’s village. We decided to take our new cocks out for a walk and show them off to the village. We walked over to the new chicken coop, where many of the group members were still working on building that day. They were all very impressed with Lady Gaga and Little Jerry Seinfeld, and seeing Ben’s cock really got them in the in the mood to build those bricks even faster. The coop wasn’t quite finished yet, so Ben was forced to house the roosters at his home for a couple of days. This didn’t last too long, and after two days of chicken poop, and rooster crowing wake up calls, Lady Gaga and Little Jerry Seinfeld were promptly passed off to one of the group members.


It is harvest season in Nanjota. Last weekend I went to the farm with Mwanahawa. The peanuts that we planted back in January were ready to be harvested. She showed up at my house at 6 that morning and we started the long walk to the farm. Her mom and cousins met us there a bit later. We dug up all of the peanut plants revealing the peanuts at the roots. Then we piled them up and moved them under a shady tree, where we sat for the next four hours, separating the peanuts from the plants. It was a long day, and we didn’t even finish up all the plants. But we did carry back about 4 huge bags full of peanuts that day. Before I knew what I was getting into, I had already committed myself to going to the farm with my neighbor, Mama Lazia, the following day. So after returning from the farm, I went home and relaxed in preparation for another day of peanut harvesting. After two days of peanut harvesting, I didn’t even want to look at another peanut. Both Mwanahawa and Mama Lazia gave me buckets full of peanuts as a thank you for helping them. So now I have a house full of peanuts and don’t know what to do with all of them. I think I might attempt to make some peanut butter with them one of these days.

Ticket to Ride

I left my village early Tuesday morning to catch the first of three buses I needed to take in order to get to Ben's village in Newala. I arrived in Nakachela after 4 hours. This weekend was the Kilimanjaro marathon, and we had made plans to run the 5K Fun Run and to go support those volunteers who had actually been training many months for the full marathon. We had bought tickets to leave early Thursday morning. We arose before the sun that morning to get to the bus stand by 5:30 as the bus was supposed to pass through the village by about 6:00 am. After waiting for a couple of hours, we receive a call and come to find that due to the harsh rains that week, the unpaved roads had become undriveable and the Mahuta bus we had bought tickets for had been rerouted to pass through Masasi instead of Nakachela. Our only option at this point was to get our tickets refunded and try to find our way to Masasi in time to catch another bus going to Dar that day. As our luck would have it a truck wit about 30 Tanzanians standing up in the back pulled up. We made a quick decision, and hopped in hte back of the truck. We held on for dear life until we arrived in newala about 30 minutes later. From Newala, there was only one bus waiting at the stand and it was heading for Masasi. We crammed into a couple of seats and pulled out of the stand about 20 minutes later. After a 3 hour bumpy ride back down the Makonde plateau, and past my village where I had come from only 2 days earlier, we arrived in Masasi around 10:30. By this time, our Mahuta bus had long since passed and all of the buses leaving for Dar that day had already left the stand. We came to the realization that we were probably not going to make it to Dar today, and our already short vacation would have to be cut a day short. But we weren't ready to let Tanzania win this battle. We decided we would get as far north towards Dar that day as was possible. We hopped on another already crowded bus that was heading towards Lindi. After being literally packed into to the bus by the conductor, we were seated underneath piles of bags of flour and aluminum cooking pots. Then, we were off like a herd of turtles! Four hours later, we pulled into Lindi. We got off the bus and tried to regain the feeling in our legs. We walked around the back of the bus and stepped right onto another smaller bus that was headed for Kilwa. As we squeezed into a couple open spaces at the back, the small overloaded van pulled out of the stand and once again we were on our way north up the road to Dar. We arrived at a four way stop some distance outside of Kilwa six hours later. We had been talking with another volunteer about hopefully arriving at her house for the night. Her village was just about an hour more north along the Dar road. We didn't arrrive at the four way stop until about 7:30 and there were no mroe dalas heading to her village for that day. We wandered around for a bit to figure out our next plan of action. We found a driver with a car and asked how much it would cost to arrive in Njia Nne. He told us it would cost us 50,000 shillings. After arguing for a bit, we found another driver who said that he would take us for 35,000. We were both so tired and defeated that we decided to just get in the car, even though we knew the fair price really should have been 20,000. We arrived at our friend Liz's house aroubd 9:00 pm. It had taken us all day. we started that morning at 5:30 and had paid 22,000 shillings for one 8 hour bus ride to Dar. After a total of 14 hours on 5 separate modes of transportation, and 31,000 shillings each, we had arrived only as far as Kilwa. Needless to say, it was a very long and trying day. But our good friend Liz knew all too well, and she was ready and waiting for us with hot food and comfy beds. Tanzania had almost beat us to death on this day. I don't think I would have made it without my best travel buddy by my side.
The next morning we woke up early and started walking back towards the road to Dar. We waited for some coasters to pass us by and spot the disheveled wazungu with the look of desperation in their eyes. Fortunately, one did stop and pick us up, and we were able to continue our long journey to Dar. After only six and a half more hours and one flat tire, we had finally made it to Tanzania's capital. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived at the Dar bus stand, the buses headed for Moshi that day had all left. We would have to spend the night in Dar and leave for Moshi the next morning. We made some plans with a married couple of ex-pats who have housed volunteers in the past. They were kind enough to pick us up, and we drove to their compound. We pulled in the gate to their beautiful home complete with pool, electricity, and indoor plumbing. Our kind hosts offered up dinner for the night, hot showeres, and comfy beds. After two long days of travel, it was just what we needed. I took my first hot showere in over 6 months, and washed the two days worth of road dust off me. I hadn't felt this clean in far too long. The next morning, we were well-rested and squeaky clean, and ready to face another long day on the bus. It was Saturday now, and we had already spent two long days being beat up by the buses of Tanzania. We arrived at the Ubungo Stand at about 6:00 am. Although it was early, the loud bustling stand was full of at least 40 large buses preparing to shuffle people to all ends of the country that day. Ubungo was loud and overwhelming with masses of people and their mountains of luggage in toe. I don't even know how to describe the atmosphere of this bus stand in order to ellicit and accurate understanding of how much it really is to take in at 6:00 am. The second our white faces emerge from the car, mobs of conductors and bus drivers approach us and proceed to urge us onto each of their respective buses. Amongst all the chaos, we find one whose bus is headed towards Moshi. He leads us through the maze of large colorful buses to a large Moshi bus, which is already full and getting ready to pull out of the stand. We jump on really quick, and as the bus is pulling away, we realize thath this bus is much too nice and pricey looking for the likes of us. Doesn't he know that we're just a couple of poor volunteers from the village trying to make our cheapest way up to Moshi? Doesn't he know the trials we've already been through just in our efforts to get to Dar? It was too late and we were being taken hostage on the expensive ride. The conductor asks for 30,000 shillings from each of us. This was surprising, since another conductor on the bus had told us that it cost 25,000 shillings for a ticket. Its not uncommon for us to receive altered prices due to our appearance, but we had already been through too much so we tried to fight it. We handed over the money, and patiently waited for our change, which never came. But after another 10 hour bus ride, we were just happy enough to have finally arrived in Moshi to be met by our friends who had arrived a couple of days earlier.
I can't honestly say that the journey up north was worth it, but Moshi was a beautiful place. The weather was cooler, the streets were cleaner, and we could see Mount Kilimanjaro not too far off in the distance. Ben decided to make it his own personal mission to put as many cheeseburgers in his mouth during our stay as was humanly possible. Cheeseburgers are a foreign concept in the south and for the better part of Tanzania, so it was necessary to take advantage of the American food that was available in Moshi. We headed straight for a burger stand after getting off the bus from Dar, and I think those burgers actually put the life back into us after all that we had been through.
The next morning was the race. The streets were teaming with Tanzanians and people from all different parts of the world who had come to run the Kilimanjaro marathon that day. We finished our 5K and waited at the stadium for our marathon runners to come in. Everyone ran their best that day, and it was really exciting to see our fellow volunteers coming through the finish line with all of the Tanzanians. For the full marathon, the first male and female to finish both had come from Kenya.
We stayed in Moshi for one more day afte the marathon, before we had to get bacvk on a bus to head back down south. After arriving back home, we realized we had spent more time during this vacation crammed on the bus than we actually did on vacation. But we did get to eat cheeseburgers and see some friends when it was all said and done.






After arriving back in my village, I continued that week with teaching Life Skills and English at the Secondary School. I returned to the farm with my friend, Mwanahawa, to see how the peanuts we planted were doing. The rains had been coming everyday, and the peanuts had already grown into small green bushes. She also showed me the cow peas she had also planted while I was gone. Everything is green now, and growing. Everyone in the village is happy because they have plenty of food now. One thing that I'm excited about is all of the pumpkins that are sprouting up everywhere. They have these huge wide leaves and bright yelllow flowers. Not only are the pumpkins delicious, but they also cook the pumpkin greens mixed with things like tomatoes, onions, and peanuts. Just gotta cook up some pumpkin greens with ugali...its delicious!
Mama Swaum and I have started ou women's chicken raising group. There are about 15 women of various ages in the group. We chose a group chairman and are writing out a constitution. The agricultural officer for the Ward has started coming to meetings to teach them about best chicken keeping practices. We started talking about different breeds of chickens, and now we have moved on to best ways to build bandas, or housing, for the chickens. As oppsoed to one large group banda, the ladies have opted to build a separte banda for each of them at their own respective houses. Now, they are just working on gathering affordable raw materials from within the village to use for building, such as wood, thatch, stones, bricks, etc.
The village water project is progressing slowly but surely. Dickson and I are in the process of writing a letter to the District to asl for assistance with doing the land survey, and I have started the grant writing process.
But for now my work in the village has been put on hold briefly. I have been selected as the new Warden for the Mtwara Region. I am currently in Dar again for our Warden Training until tomorrow. The responsibilities of the Warden are to ensure volunteer safety in the case of an emergency. We are responsible to carry out the Emergency Action Plan that Peace Corps has put in place for us, and to know the region's consolidation point as well as making sure each volunteer is able to arrive there in the case of a crisis. We also talked about potential threats and dangers that are specific to our respective regions. For Mtwara, floods pose a large threat when it comes to transportation. Also drought in the dry season is a potential danger due, to the increased lack of food security, which in turn increases thefts and crime. For all regions, transortation was the number one threat. It is also our responsibility to welcome and familiarize incoming volunteers with the region. So I'm at the training right now and will be returning to my village tomorrow. It is nice to get to Dar for a bit. We got to go to the MALL one night and had fast food and saw a movie! It was very weird to be walking around the clean mall with all its nice clothing and electronic stores after living in the village for the past 7 months. We got some fast food fries and bought some candy in the supermarket before going into the theater to watch "Love and Other Drugs" on the biggest screen in East Africa. I can't say that the movie was all that great but to be able to go to the movies with a bunch of my friends and eat junk food made the trip worth it in itself. But tomorrow I'll have to get back on the bus, but I will be happy to return to my village and to my house.

Pictures of Dar es Salaam





Well, I think that's all of the updates that I have for right now, but I will try to keep you all updated. Thanks for reading!

A Hard Day's Night

Just another hoppin Friday night in the village. I was getting ready to hunker down with a good book, and went to the kitchen to make some tea. Its very dark and the only light I have to guide me through the house is my headlamp. As I turn around to leave the kitchen with my hot cup of tea in hand, I happen to glance down at the floor of the doorway before stepping through. I stopped in my tracks and took in a huge gasp. Seated at my feet was the largest, hairiest, meanest looking tarantula I'd ever seen in my life. It had gotten dark and I forgot to close the back door, so he must have taken it as an invitation. He had me trapped in the kitchen. I turn around to put my tea down and calm down, as I had noticed I had begun to speak to myself...and the hairy beast guarding the door. I tried to come up with a plan of attack. I had to do something. I couldn't very well stay in the kitchen for the rest of my life. Who would teach the kids about safe sex next week? I had to muster up some courage for their sake at least. I grabbed a bowl and held my breath as I crouched dangerously close to the tarantula. I quickly through the bowl over him and let out a sigh of relief that he hadn't eaten me. But what am I supposed to do wityh him now? I decided that a monster of his stature required documentation. Plus, people needed to truly understand the multitude of the situation. I grabbed my camera and returned to the kitchen doorway. As I picked the bowl up to reveal the nasty hairy face of the tarantula (yes, he had a face), I instantly regretted my decision, but iI'd come to far. I had to get a picture of him. I stood as far away as I could and held uot my arm to snap the picture. He hadn't moved at all which was good, but I wasn't satisfied with the angle of the picture. He was still a little balled up from being caught under the bowl. So I decided to nudge him a bit with the broom to see if he wouldn't mind spreading out his eight long beefy legs. I poked him and he began to run across the room. He ran much to fast for comfort and I could hear his hairy legs sweep across the floor as he scurried away. I jumped up and began to speak in tongues again. But he was modeling a much more inviting pose. So I approached him again and got a couple more shots. He ran behind a bucket I had with water in it. I moved the bucket to get a better look at him to find a mountain of ants running arund the floor where the bucket had been sitting. They were quite large, I don't know why all of the insects I encounter are so massive. But I had no time for them. I heard the tarantula run into the next room, and decided he was beginning to move around too much. If he disappeared somewhere, I would no doubt never be able to sleep again in that house. So I grabbed the broom and turned it upside down. I began to chase him around the room. It took me quite a few swings and misses, but finally I whacked him. His back end along with a few hairy legs lay on the left side of the room, while the rest of him lay turned upside down a little ways away. He had been beat. I approached the carcass precariously. There was still a bit of hairy tarantula life left in him, and now he was definitely pissed and I didn't want him to jump up and eat my face. But I was able to get a good look at his huge fangs, so I took a couple more pictures. Then suddenly, headlamp went out. I was in the room in the darkness with the tarantula. I tried to find my way back to where I had left my lantern and my bare foot met some other large insect on the way. I couldn't see it in the darkness, but even if I could I'm sure I couldn't tell you what kind it was. But I can tell you that it made quite a loud crunch noise as my foot crushed it. Once I had the security of the light again, I went back into the room with the tarantula and swept him outside to let him die a slow and painful death. It was just another Friday night in Nanjota. Just me and the prehistoric bugs having a party in my house...Hopefully his corpse will serve as a warning to any other curious creatures that think they can come in and hang out with me in the middle of the night.
The bugs aren't my only guests though. There has also been a large rat who has chosen me as a roommate. I woke up one night only to look up and find him crawling across the top of my mosquito net. He wasn't a very good roommate. He was always making a lot of noise late at night, and eating all my food...So one night I caught him off guard, grabbed my trusty weapon (my broom), and decided to beat him to death. It had to be done! What was I supposed to do? The opportunity presented itself to be rid of him once and for all, so I summoned my inner murderer and killed him. I apolgized to him after, and then swept him outside...The pests I've encountered are quite a nuisance, but I can't say they haven't given me opportunities to work out some aggression.






What else hae I been up to in the village apart from killing things you may ask? Well, I've been teaching English at the Secondary school every Friday afternoon for about 2 hours. I teach Forms 1 and 2 one week, and then 3 and 4 the following week. It is definitely challenging, not only trying to get them to understand the lesson, but also to maintain control of the classroom. One week there must have been almost 70 students in there. And they're no fools. They know I'm not going to beat them for making noise, so they seem to take full advantage of that. I was walking by the primary school the other day, and heard a teacher raising her voice, followed by a loud whacking noise, and a child just screaming like crazy. It was really difficult to witness first hand, and I couldn't even bring myself to look to see what exactly was happening. I knew it happened at the school everyday, but I had never been misfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of it first hand. Corpural punishment is a social norm and is often imposed at the schools in Tanzania. It is not an uncommon occurrence. Many times, the students are even punished for answering questions incorrectly, which explains the lack of participation and timidness I have encountered in the classroom. It was upsetting to see, but there isn't much more I can do about it than to just talk to teachers and peoople and try to open their eyes to better ways to handle those situations.
But I think the students are enjoying the English lessons. I try to organize games to play with them to make it more interactive and fun, as opposed to just being lectured at, which is usually how classrooms work from what I've observed. I'm enjoying getting to know them better. Last week we went over members of the family along with possessive pronouns.
I also teach Life Skills at the Secondary school. We have started talking about HIV/AIDS. We have gone over facts and myths of HIV (such as the myth that having sex with a virgin will cure HIV), and the ways that HIV can be transmitted. At the beginning of every class, I pass around a blank piece of paper for students to write questions down anonymously. I told them to feel free about asking me anything, in hopes that they could find answers to questions that they would otherwise be embarrassed to ask in front of the class. I collect the paper at the end of class, and return with answers the following week. They have asked some great questions, such as "what is the origin of AIDS", "are there condoms that have the virus in them", or "if you use ARVs does it cure HIV/AIDS?" I think they've gotten to know me more and are warming up to me. They don't get opportunities to talk about these things with anyone else, not even from their teachers or parents. So they seem to be happy to have someone to just give them this information without having to feel akward about it.
I also started a women's group in the village. We will learn about good chicken raising practices, as well as business skills. The gender gap is so huge here and I hope that the group will allow these women to gain knowledge and skills about chicken raising so that they can run successful businesses and improve their incomes. One day, I went to the farm with Mama Swaum and we met this women who was telling Mama Swaum about a problem she was having. I couldn't understand it entirely at the time, but later she told me that this woman was telling her about how her husband left her for another wife in another village. He took all the money and everything with him, except for her and their 3 kids. Now this woman has no money, her baby is sick and needs to go to the hospital, and her oldest son who was able to defy he odds and pass the test to go to Secondary school, now has no money for shoes and school fees. This situation was such a good example to me of how the gender roles here feed into so many other problems that are facing the community. It's a hard reality to face, but it made me that much more motivated to work hard to start this women's group, as well as causing me to appreciate the fact that I'm an American woman.
I'm also currently starting a water project in the village, which is stressing me out more than anything. After returning from Morogoro, water was the number one project that the village expressed to me as a priority. The hand dug wells that are there now dry up in the dry season and water is extremely scarce for the 6,000 Nanjota residents, not to mention the innumerable people that travel to my village from other villages to get water here. I met with the water committe, and went to the District Water Engineer's office with Dickson. We received an estimated price of 12 million shillings to build a water pump in the village. After hearing that numer all of my hopes of building a well were lost. But the village said that they would be able to raise 4 million from villager contribution and I am talking with the District more about helping us out with the total cost. Soon, I will begin to work with the water committee to write a grant proposal to Peace Corps, which will only be a request and there is no guarantee. We'll see how it turns out. It is a huge project and I don't expect it to be completed overnight, but the village is definitely motivated to make it a reality, which is a good sign.
During my free time, I've been visiting with my friends Mwanahawa and Mama Swaum. The other day I went with Mama Swaum to visit her husband's much older sister. We were sitting with her and another younger woman. I don't know how we started talking about this, but the older woman lifted up her shirt and foldd her skirt down to reveal two beaded necklace-like belts around her hips. She told me they were called "shaanga" and asked if I knew about them. I said that I had seen them, but that I didn't understand. If you wanted to dress up and wear beads, why not wear them on your wrist or neck so that people could see them? She told me that nobody needed to see her shaanga except for her husband. Oh ok, now I understood. She was only wearing two, but told me that some women even wear 30 or 40 at a time. I as shocked and asked "How do they walk around?!" They all erupted with laughter. Then I asked Mama Swaum if she wore them for Baba Razak. She blushed and giggled and replied yes. "well how many do YOU wear?" I asked. She replied "Ishirini!" which means 20, and they all started laughing more. Then the older woman asked me if I would wear them. I said "Ya, of course, why not?" She asked me how many I would wear. I jokingly replied, "Hamsini!" or "50!" They began to roll around on the dirty ground laughing. I told them they would see e tomorrow. I would wear my best kanga and they would know I was wearing shaanga because I would be hobbling around. Then I started to walk to show them how I would be strained with the wait of all my shaanga hidden underneath my African garments...I guess I wouldn't be opposed to wearing a few shaanga once in a while. I mean I am in Tanzania now. I don't know that I'm talented enough to pull of 50 of them though.
Now, I'm getting ready for a trip up to Moshi this week for the Kilimanjaro Marathon. No, I will not be running it, but I will be participating in the 5K Fun Run and cheering on my crazy fellow volunteers who are choosing to run the 42 kilometers of the full marathon. It will be a fun trip and I'm excited to see another part of the country as well as some of my friends again. There's even talk of foods such as pizza and cheesecake up there, so it's gotta be a good time! I will report back afterwards to let you all know about it. But I think that's it for now. I'll try to get that tarantula picture posted soon too. Hope you don't have any nightmares!

The Long and Winding Road

After Thanksgiving, we had just a couple of days back in the village before packing up for IST, In Service Training, in Morogoro. Training started on December 4th and it was going to take us two days to arrive in Morogoro from Masasi. Toni, Ben, and myself met up in The Sass and boarded the Najma bus to go to Dar es Salaam for a night before continuing on the next morning for Moro. Somewhere along the way of our 10-hour bus ride, we made a quick stop at the bus stand in Lindi where Toni and I decided we should take advantage of the opportunity to use the bathroom. We get off the bus and weave through the masses of people frantically running to catch their respective buses. We run behind the few small shops at the stand to find the bathroom. We begin to make a B-line for the right side of the small building that reads “Wanawake” when some of the women begin to yell at us and we realize that we had bypassed the line where you need to pay 200 shillings before you’re allowed to pee in the hole in this small cement building. We pay our 400 shillings and proceed to the next line to go to the bathroom. As we get to the front of the line, we step up to the other side of the cement partition in front of the two choo stalls. Women are pushing and shoving us and we turn the corner to realize that there is just a crowd of women that are proceeding to squat and pee on the cement just outside of the choo stalls. When one woman would come out of one of the stalls, three more would run in together. Apparently there’s just no time for everyone to be able to pee in privacy, or even to pee in the choo, and nobody wanted the bus to drive away without them. Toni and I decided to at least wait for one of the stalls to open up. One of the doors opened up and Toni made a quick move and ran in and closed the door behind her. Before I knew it, another woman behind me shoved passed and forced her way into the stall with Toni. As I’m treading lightly outside the stall door wearing my flip flops among all the other women who just couldn’t wait their turn, I hear her say, “Oh..hello…” from inside the stall. A quick minute later, she left Toni alone in the stall and I realized that there wasn’t going to be an opportunity for us to go to the bathroom separately so I just went in the stall with her. The floor was soaking wet, and the choo hole was overflowing. Toni was squatting trying desperately to find an appropriate spot to relieve herself. She said, “Just come in.” The stall was not quite large enough for the both of us to be in there taking care of business at the same time. I said, “I don’t wanna pee on you!” “Just pee!” she said. I proceed to take my position and go pee, the whole time we are both laughing hysterically at the situation we have found ourselves in. In the midst of the laughing and hysteria, I lift my hand to try and brace myself on Toni’s shoulder, and next thing I know my hand has grabbed her bare bum on the way up to her shoulder. Meanwhile, Toni still can’t find her happy place and just let herself pee. So after I finish peeing and accidentally molesting her, I run out of the stall and leave Toni to finish up on her own. When we both emerge from the “bathroom” there’s no time to process what had just happened to us both, so we just run back to the stand and try to find our bus again. There are at least 10 large buses at the stand, all painted with bright colors and nonsense words marking the sides. We boarded one large bus that said Najma, and began to look for our seats. After a couple of seconds I realized that I didn’t see Ben’s white face and glasses sticking out amongst the many Tanzanians that had already boarded the bus. I ask Toni, “Wait a minute, where’s Waldo?....I don’t think this is our bus!” We quickly jump off the bus and start to run around to try and find our bus. We see another Najma bus a few buses down and jump on. Sure enough there’s was Waldo, and we both let out a sigh of relief, muscled our way back into our respective seats, looked at each other and began laughing uncontrollably. We had reached a whole new level of friendship at that bus stand in Lindi that day.
A few hours later, we reached the stretch of unpaved road that we drive through to get to Dar. It takes about two and half hours on this road before we reach pavement again, and the ride is so rough that the people seated in the back of the bus get up and move to the front to stand in the aisle for the duration of the dirt road. After being knocked around for about two hours on this road, we notice an 11 year old boy who had moved to the front aisle from his seat in the back. He is beginning to pace up and down the aisle with a terrified look on his face with his right hand cupping his mouth. He had nowhere to run and ended up stopping in the aisle right between Ben and Toni. He couldn’t hold it in any longer and he began to vomit into his hand and all over the floor and arms of their chairs. Toni had a look of disgust and astonishment on her face as she noticed the vomit on her skirt and tried desperately to wipe it clean as quickly as she could, while Ben curiously decided to take a closer look, and then leaned over excitedly to inform me that “it looked like he had chicken for lunch.”
Eleven hours later, we pulled into the large bus stand in Dar es Salaam. It had been a long day. Some of had been peed on, some of us had been molested, some of us had been vomited on, and we all felt like we had been beat to death. But Dar had never looked so good, and I don’t think any of us had ever been so happy to finally arrive. Luckily we had a night to recover before getting on another bus for Morogoro. We met up with Tyler that night, and we all slept like babies. The next morning, we got on the bus to go from “DAR MPAKA MORO!” Apparently TMK is a famous music group in Tanzania and they have a song titled “Dar mpaka Moro.” After about four hours, we arrived at Morogoro. I got off the bus and was on a mission to find a bathroom. I had to pee so bad! Even after all these long travel days I have learned to dehydrate myself, yet I still needed to go to the bathroom on this day. So Toni and I proceed on another bathroom adventure, but this time, we have no clue which direction to be going…and it was an emergency. We start walking one way and people point in another direction and tell us “Kule!” We proceed in the next direction and someone else points one way and says in a high tone of voice “Pale!” At this point we were running around the stand aimlessly as nobody had actually told us where the bathroom was but simply gave us a vague idea of which direction it may be. Toni was trailing behind me as I’m power walking to what I hoped was going to be a bathroom. After too many minutes and no more idea of where a bathroom might be, I yelled back to her, “Oh no Toni! This is happening! I can’t hold it!” I run behind a tin shack at the end of the stand, drop my arms full of luggage, lift up my skirt, and begin to pee out in the open while yelling, “Pole sana! I’m sorry!” Toni runs over and tries to cover me as best she can, but I don’t even care. I realized that I really didn’t have any shame anymore. This is Tanzania. I figured if I can walk around The Sass in broad daylight and see guys peeing in the middle of the road, there’s no reason why I can’t do the same in an emergency situation.
We grabbed a taxi to the CCT, Christian Council of Tanzania, where our training for the next two weeks was going to be. Rebecca, Alli, Sarah, Ben, and I got our own little house at the center for the next two weeks. It was really good to see them all again, after spending the past three months apart. We were all very excited to see our entire training class all together again. For the next couple of weeks we could be waking up bright and early for training seminars from 8:00 am until 5:00 pm. The second week our chosen counterparts from our respective villages arrived to complete training sessions as well. My counterpart, Mama Swaum, was very excited to be coming to Morogoro. She was always participating and taking notes very diligently during training sessions, which got me even more excited about working with her. The first day at the training center during a break she asked me to come with her to the bathroom, which was a little confusing at first. But then I found out that she needed me to show her how to flush the toilet. I guess the tables had been turned a bit, and now she was the fish out of water. I told her she could call her husband later and tell him she had arrived in America today, which she thought was pretty funny. For the next two weeks we learned about project implementation and management, working effectively with counterparts, grant writing, as well as specific project ideas, such as chicken and goat raising projects, teaching life skills and environmental education within the primary and secondary schools, more permagardening techniques, and HIV/AIDS education. We worked together with our counterparts to come up with a 3 month plan for projects in the village. After talking with Mama Swaum, we decided that we would start by talking to the teachers at the primary school about incorporating environmental education into the curriculum. We want to talk to the secondary school teachers about beginning to teach life skills to the Form 4 students. Also, we want to start by working with the women’s AIDS group who are interested in doing a chicken raising project, as well as looking into getting a well built at the secondary school.
The two weeks at IST went by quickly and before we knew it, it was time to say goodbye to everyone again. We took the trip back from Moro mpaka Dar and the next morning, we continued from Dar back to the Deep South. Unfortunately, there were no more seats available on the reliable bus and we were forced to board the infamous Akida bus line. As expected, the bus broke down about half way through the drive and we sat on the side of the road for three hours just outside of Lindi. We left Dar at 6:00 am that morning and we didn’t arrive at the bus stand in Masasi until 10:30 pm. It was a long travel day, and luckily my friend, Wambora, was able to arrange for a couple rooms at a guesti for us for the night. The next morning we all parted ways again.
We were able to come together again briefly to celebrate Christmas down in the Mtwara region. My mom had been kind enough to send me a small fake Christmas tree in the mail along with a stocking stuffed full of great goodies. We all decorated the tree together and exchanged Secret Santa gifts.
On the way back to my village, I passed through Ben’s village, which is up n the Makonde plateau. It was interesting to see the difference between the two villages. His village is much smaller, with a population of about 1,500 people. And while I knew water was an issue for my villagers, it’s even more of a challenge for the villagers of Nakachela to get enough water. There is no well in Nakachela, so many villagers are forced to go all the way to neighboring villages in order to get water.
I was able to go with Ben and his counterpart to a village celebration called ngoma, which is one of the many celebrations held each year for the tradition f unyago, which is the traditional education that many children in the village receive growing up. Today this was a party for the whole community, celebrating the coming of age of a number of boys.
I was happy to finally return to my village after all those long travel days. Pulling into the sokoni and getting off the bus, there were many familiar faces waiting there to greet me. The village chairman, Kilian, was seated nearby the drop off, and he greeted me with a big smile. Dickson came by my house later to say hi. It was nice to see them all again, and I really felt like I was coming back home. After returning to my village, Mama Swaum and I began talking about building our own permagarden together, and using it as a teaching tool for the women’s AIDS group. So now we’re gathering materials. I’m going to Masasi to see what seeds I can find to plant.
I went to The Sass the other day to get on a computer. I was waiting at the bus stand at 6:00 am as usual for my crowded daladala to come barreling around the corner of the dirt road. But today, my bus didn’t arrive, and I learned that it had recently broken down so they weren’t running it at the moment. This didn’t surprise me as the bus had broken down on the last two occasions that I decided to go into town. But I knew that there was also a lorry that would be coming through my village that morning. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the lorry came around the corner and screeched to a halt. A lorry is basically a large truck with a large iron cage in the bed where people load in and stand up, hanging onto the sides. This lorry was already pretty full of people, but the conductor yelled “Tuende!” and I grabbed the rope hanging from the back of the cage and hoisted my self up in to the bed of the truck along with the sea of Tanzanians already packed and standing. I made my way to the middle where I figured my chances of survival were the highest in the case of an accident. As we made our way towards Masasi, I could see people’s astonished faces at every stop as they picked out the white blonde girl crunched in the lorry with all of the Tanzanians, as we barrel down the dirt road. It was definitely a new experience and one which I suppose I better get used to because that bus doesn’t look like it will be going anywhere anytime soon. I did learn that good footing and a good grip on the cage is key. Sometimes I try to make it more fun by pretending I’m surfing in the ocean as I try to maintain my balance as opposed to crammed in the back of the lorry trying t stay standing and not falling on the bibi seated below me.
I got to see my good friend, Mwanahawa, after returning from IST. She came hobbling into my house and I asked her why she was limping. She showed me a large gash in the bottom of her left foot and said she had cut herself with her jembe at the farm the previous day. She said she would have to be going back again the next morning. So I told her that I wanted to go with her in the morning to help her, little did I know that we would be heading out at 6:00 am. I woke up bright and early the next morning and we made the walk out to the farm together. After coming back to my village from IST, everything looks so different. The rains had started, and everything had come alive again. Grasses had started growing everywhere, and everything looks much greener than it did when I left. It was a nice walk out to her family’s plot of land through the fresh new grasses and cashew trees. I could see that many families had started farming while I was away. The cashews had been finished and now people were preparing their land and planting cassava, rice, corn, and peanuts, which we would be planting that day. We took the ground with our jembes in one hand and our handful of peanuts in the other. After three hours of being bent over, digging small holes, and places a single peanut in each one, we had finished for the day. As the sun is beating down on us and I start sweating uncontrollably I begin to understand why we needed to wake up so early to plant. As we’re walking back to the house to make chai, I inspected my hands to find that I had some of the biggest blisters covering my fingers and palm.
We get back to the house and I collapse on the ground. I probably could have fallen asleep right there. But Mwanahawa is still going. She proceeds to get some firewood together to make tea and roll out dough to fry up some chapatti for us. She amazes me! She really never gets tired and she works incredibly hard everyday.
This week I started teaching Life Skills to the Form 4 students at the Secondary School, which was so fun! They were all a little quiet and shy, but I think that once they get more used to me they will be more open about talking. We are going to work on communication skills, decision-making skills, and relationship skills. Life skills is intended to give them more information about how to live healthy lives, as well as how they can utilize that information and set goals for themselves for the future. There are also lessons on safe sex and HIV/AIDS that we will talk about. Each class I pass around a paper so that they can write down questions anonymously in case they are too embarrassed to ask. We’ll see what kind of questions we get next week…
I also started teaching English after school to those students at the Secondary school who are interested in getting a head start. This past week, the room was packed and it was a little overwhelming. But I started ff by teaching them a few English slang words and then having them write sentences about their families and what they were planning to do after school.
I also had a meeting with the headmaster of the school and the Village Water Committee to talk about the possibility of a water project. This will be a big undertaking and I will have to talk to the District Water Engineer first to see how feasible this would be. But getting water to the secondary school would open up so many doors for them, such as building a garden for the school, so I definitely want to put some focus into it.
My house is starting to feel more like a home. I started doing a little work out routine in my back yard in the mornings, so that I don’t just turn into one giant white blob of ugali. Every morning the primary school girls let themselves into my backyard to get their brooms to sweep in front of my house. I usually hear them arrive at about 7:00 am. This particular morning I started my little work out a bit late, so I was cooling down in my backyard, zoning out listening to my ipod. Oh ya,I forgot to mention that I live in Africa and I sweat uncontrollably when I’m sitting still, so why would I rationally be putting on extra clothing if I’m planning to be exercising? I’m no dummie, so of course I was bouncing around my courtyard with nothing more than my sports bra, my undies, my running shoes, and my ipod blasting away. So when I was finishing up this day, I failed to hear the herd of girls funneling into my backyard until I looked up and saw their little brown faces stunned with a look of astonishment as they beheld my naked, and I must say extremely whiter than usual, body. I froze for a minute and ran to hide in my house. I poked my head around to tell them in Swahili that I was just exercising and that maybe next time if they knock I could put some clothes on for them. Although I thought the experience was traumatizing enough, they still open up my side door all on their own. The only difference now is that I start working out at 6:00 instead of 6:30.