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.