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.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
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!
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!
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