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.