The Chibelela and Mpuguzi Journey

Written on June 20, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Philip Arscott

It has been a while since my last entry, but instead of trying to explain everything that happened in the last week, I will describe my recent trip to Chibelela and Mpuguzi, two villages about 30 km outside of Dodoma. Just to warn the reader, this is a long entry.

On Tuesday we headed out to Chibelela for a day trip of filming. I rode comfortably on the bumpy hour-long ride that would normally take less than half an hour on paved roads. It was a very pleasant ride though, as we passed a couple of villages we were gazing at some fantastic views of tomato fields, vineyards and the dried remains of rainy season- the water carved dirt on the banks of the river making a maze to the sandy bottom. We finally pulled into to Chibelela, following the white painted rocks that outlined the main roads but reminding me more of a runway rather than street lines. Our first stop was the Village Business Mentor’s home, which was right in the main part of the village and a relief from the exhausting ride. Beatrice Nhuguti, the VBM, greeted and welcomed us into her home. Before we were to set off to meet some beneficiaries, we had an amazing meal of rice, chicken stew, fresh tomatoes and onions and milk tea. When I first arrived here, the milk tea was not to my liking, but over the last three weeks it has grown on me and is a warm, filling way to enjoy a hot beverage. We finished our meal and then set out to begin documenting the Chibelela Village.

VEF has sponsored many different businesses in the village, but many are focused on raising livestock. The first and second businesses raised pigs and hens, pigs being very profitable by selling the baby pigs for 15,000 shillings, approximately $13. We were walking through the village instead of driving, because the roads do not reach the majority of the beneficiaries. For a grape growing business, we walked for nearly 30 minutes out to the beneficiary’s field, which was long but reminded me of how walking is the primary means of transportation in these rural communities. The vineyard was beautifully set in the middle of a valley, with the surrounding acres supporting other vineyards, tomato fields and corn. All of the grant recipients in Chibelela are drastically benefited by the small amount of capital that VEF supplies to start and expand their small enterprises. Everyone lives in mud brick houses that have no electricity or running water, light at night provided by precious candles and the night sky. One business that we visited raised pigs, cattle, chicken and ducks, and had used their profits to plant five acres of sunflowers which will enhance their income by selling the seeds to make sunflower oil. The day disappeared during the long walks, and since we arrived after noon, we unfortunately had to leave before we had completed all of the visits. However, we were going to return the next day to complete the work, so saying goodbye to Beatrice was not as difficult. The journey back was pretty interesting.

Besides the gorgeous scenery and countless waves to the children watching us pass, we came upon a car that had suffered a flat tire. Being one of the few vehicles that pass through the area, we were stopped by two military gentlemen yielding rifles. This is not a rare occurrence in Tanzania, where the military is present in many places (not overwhelmingly). Noel spoke with the two soldiers and offered them a ride to Dodoma which they graciously accepted. So the two men piled into the car, along with the only woman who was part of their party and happily joined us to get out of the dust and setting sun. The ride was pleasant, regardless of the new weaponry on board, and we enjoyed raw peanuts that one of the beneficiaries had given us. We reached Dodoma at dusk, the skyline fading beyond the clouds of dust that trail every vehicle buzzing around the city, and dropped off our guests at a gas station so they could acquire the necessary parts to get back and help out the inoperable car. Dinner was on the table when we entered Richard’s house, and after a brief meeting to discuss the scheduling changes, I easily eased myself to sleep.

Wednesday was a big day for me, David and Jake. We were going to head to the field for the first time on our own using public transportation, locally known as a “Dala Dala.” The departure times are not set in stone here, and Noel waited with us in the market for the appropriate vehicle. We were not entirely on our own however, knowing insufficient Swahili to be able to ensure the proper transportation and Jackson Madelmo, who had accompanied us on the prior day to Chibelela, was going to act as our interpreter. He is a pastor in his village, and is a gentle, kind and humble man who was overjoyed to help us. When the Dala Dala arrived, it was not exactly what Americans would consider government-run transportation. The white truck had a welded metal frame in the truck-bed, where huge baskets, jugs of water, gasoline and cooking oil, were tied to the side to allow ample space for the passengers. Along with about twenty other people, Jake, David and I climbed into the back, the seat belts consisting of the metal bars holding us in, and the bodies of each passenger, cushioning us on every bump and turn.

Before you begin to worry about the safety of this form of transportation, you must understand that due to the heavy load and unpaved roads, we were traveling no faster than 20 miles per hour and that speed was reached only on rare occasions. I actually felt safe the entire time, the only drawback would be a ditch you did not anticipate, and the cold, hard metal frame would remind me to hold on tight. We traveled like this for two hours, getting an open air view of the drive we had completed the day before. It felt good using the local form of transportation, making me think about the countless times I’ve taken Caltrains up to San Francisco, rarely having to share my seat with another passenger. Unfortunately, unlike Caltrains, there are no bathrooms available, and we had to stop a few times to allow people to take care of business. We dropped people off at several villages along the way and passed Mpuguzi, which was our destination to stay the night, after completing our work in Chibelela.

This time when we arrived, we were thoroughly exhausted, I having stood up for the majority of the trip and using a large amount of energy griping the metal frame to reduced the impact of the bumps. The three of us discussed our plan of attack for this day, knowing that our efforts were solely on our shoulders, but the weight felt good, because this was really doing work in the field. We interviewed Beatrice, who is a truly remarkable woman. She became a VBM when Richard, who was one of her students in primary school many years ago, explained to her his work with VEF. Being inspired to help alleviate poverty in her own village; she took on the volunteer position and has loved the changes that rose from the program. She had lost one of her daughters to AIDS several years ago and had taken in her grandkids to live in her house along with her other kids. I really enjoyed listening to her story, because it made me realize the strength of community and family that the villages hold dear. Without all the gadgets and luxuries that I have taken for granted, they find so much happiness in their home that no flat screen T.V. could buy.

When we finished Beatrice’s interview, we met Dorisi Mkwana of the Umoja Group, and she gave us some wonderful footage of her story in front of her home with many local children watching our every move. They had recently made 100,000 shillings selling the young piglets in the market and had used the profits to purchase two more female pigs that would undoubtedly increase their sales the next time they gave birth. Her family’s life has changed so much since receiving the grant, and can afford to send all of her children to primary and secondary school, which I see as the first step out of poverty. If we can provide capital that allows someone in a village to send their children to school, then the children will grow up with so many opportunities that will, over time, bring more wealth to their villages.
After a long walk to another livestock business, I was beginning to feel more comfortable interacting with the villagers and absorbing their perspectives on life that is so hard to achieve when you drive everywhere, because you miss the little things that make each place unique. Walking through the harvested fields of millet and corn, which they use to make Ugali, chickens with their chicks scurry away from us in their endless search for food. Ugali is the most common type of food here and the best way I think I can describe it is less tasty form of grits, with a consistency more like mashed potatoes. We have eaten it a lot here, but I cannot imagine having it everyday, me being so spoiled by noodles, rice and other staples I have each night back home.

Our journey was not close to being over yet, and the next place we visited caught me by surprise with drumming, dancing and singing performed by the villagers. What I later found out, is that they were having a traditional circumcision ceremony for boys who were leaving their adolescence and becoming men. The boys were aged 8-12, and sat in a square courtyard, enclosed by wood and dried corn stalks. It is an ancient tradition that the rural villages have, and many people from the surrounding region were there to celebrate their coming of age. When we entered the courtyard, although the attention briefly shifted to us, we realized the importance and special nature of being able to witness part of this tradition. Jackson said that if we like, we may shake each hand of the boys and kiss it, a sign that you are supporting them through this trial. I shook each of their hands and kissed them, saying good luck and smiling. They were very appreciative and I gave the ceremony leader a small offering that would be given to the boys once they became men. When we had to leave Jackson explained the ceremony to us and how over time some things have changed, such as the actual procedure is not done by traditional means but instead by a trained doctor to ensure that the boys’ safety is not compromised. The woman and men, who were singing and dancing, enter the courtyard each night to sing to the boys, in order to show them how the community is supporting them and give them hope on their road to manhood. Although it was not a VEF related stop during our day, it gave me a better idea of how strong the communities are here and their multiple levels of support that run throughout their lives.

Our last stop of the day was a retail shop run by Aidami Chingole, called the Chiyendile Group, which means “we love each other” in the local language (not Swahili). Aidami is a very driven person, and since receiving his grant has opened two shops in two parts of the village, using the profits to expand. We asked him what he would do when he saved more money and he wished to expand and open shops in other villages and be able to provide goods that are otherwise vacant in the rural areas. Meeting him reinforces my appreciation for the vision of the beneficiaries, who through a little training and capital see the bigger picture of what life can be like and how you can develop the community by taking small steps. He has several children who are in school, and I can only imagine what they will do with their future, knowing that they have that driven mentality in their genes.

The sun was beginning its daily descent as we walked back to Beatrice’s home. I stopped and took a picture of the clouds that were playing with the sun’s rays before dissipating into the blue. With nearly no artificial lights to combat the natural glow of the evening sky, the view was marvelous. We finally reached our destination, after passing the primary school, cassava fields, and following the white rock path, all of us starving since we had not had lunch. It was five-thirty by the time we enjoyed our “mid-day” meal, making it that much more rewarding and negating the need for dinner a few hours later. One thing about the meals we have, just about every lunch and dinner have some sort of meat, and Jackson explained that meat is a rare specialty, usually saved for ceremonial meals. It really made me acknowledge that the people we were visiting truly appreciated our journey to see them, but humbled me that they give so much when really I need so little. We were going to walk to the adjacent village to stay for the night, which was going to take at least an hour, but luckily there was a man whom we had met the day before, driving that direction. He offered us a ride and we graciously accepted, very happy to let our legs rest after the tiresome day. We approached Mpuguzi as the sun was just getting to the horizon and I felt like my daily energy supply was doing the same.

Our night would be spent at the Old Luatu Guest House, for a whopping 3,000 shillings per room (about $2.70). For that price I wouldn’t have minded staying there an entire week. Although the rooms came with only a bed and a table, there was a lock on the door and a mosquito net- all the necessities you need. I read a little Hemingway before my eyes failed me and as I drifted to sleep, I listened to the local whisky house across the road filled with locals entertaining themselves late into the night.

In the morning I was refreshed and ready for Mpuguzi. We had a breakfast of chapattis and milk tea at a local café before purchasing some water for the day and beginning to walk. The VBM for Mpuguzi is Cassian Chiwaulla, a tall, soft spoken man whose strides out-paced all of us and tested our endurance. It was a very long walk to the village center and further still to the beneficiaries. On the way we filmed a group of men building a house, using only mud and water. They mix up the dirt and water barefoot, one guy just stomping up and down continuously while another broke up the dried dirt with a plough. The man building the walls stood on a stool and patted on wads of mud, slowly making progress. Using a long knife, he would smooth out the wall by cutting off the excess mud, making a near perfect straight wall that lined up with the two lower layers. They were happy to be filmed, and it was pretty interesting seeing this building process, that did not use pre-made mud bricks.

We walked a long long way to the first beneficiary, but once we got there we realized it was completely worth it. The business was Kawawa Ironsmiths, run by a small man named John Manyelezi. Barefoot with shorts on and a t-shirt, John along with his team of blacksmiths would use old, flat, car shocks that they had purchased in Dodoma to make farm tools. They had an ingenious contraption to heat the coals: carved wood that made two buckets with pipes that came out one end, and cloth covering the buckets with two long poles attached to create suction. Then one worker would pump the poles up and down, which blew air into the tubes and heated the fire, pretty amazing. Then using large metal tongs, a worker would pull one of the shocks out of the fire and place it on an old drive-train. With it glowing bright orange, he would then put a splitter on top of the shock while another worker would use a sledge hammer to create a crack in the steel. It looked like back breaking work, but everyone was highly skilled in the process. Once the shocks were split, another worker would take the piece and slowly begin to reshape the metal into axe blades or crop shearers, a long process of getting the metal hot, pounding at it while it was malleable, then placing it back in the fire. Then the complete shearers (I don’t know the correct term, but they are similar to small scythes) would be put onto a wood handle, a process where one worker would use two long-pointed screwdriver devices, taken from the fired, to burrow a hole to hold the shearer. John said that they can make 40 of each tool per day, and sell each for 3,500 shillings. Since they use old car parts, I assume that they get the material pretty cheaply, so it is a very profitable business. It is truly amazing to watch these barefoot workers pound and form the steel; occasionally a spark would startle me although I was watching from a distance. It was quite a sight to see, and when we finish the video profile of their business, I highly suggest anyone reading this watch the footage. They worked with such skill and concentration that was constantly proven by their accuracy and efficiency. They made us smaller knives out of some of the steel; they use the knives to carve the wood handles and repair the sledge hammers; making the tools the use.

After the eye-opening experience of an outdoor ironsmith, we visited another vineyard that was owned by a pump recipient. The vines were full of grapes and looked incredibly healthy; David Chiute of the Umonga Grape Group explaining that the pump was the sole reason the fields looked so good. They had a well on the edge of the river bed, but before the pump they had to walk down over twenty yards, fill up buckets, then walk back uphill to water the vines. It was a tedious process that took hours, and did not provide sufficient water most of the time. We tasted some of the grapes and although they were a little un-ripe, they were very juicy and delicious. By the time the interview was finished, it was lunchtime and we went to visit a beneficiary who owned a café, and had prepared food for us.

Harieth Athanas is the head chef, and she prepared an amazing meal of beef stew in a tomato sauce, rice, steamed green leaf vegetables, some jerky style meat and grapes. We ate with Jackson, Cassian, David Chiute and one of his co-workers, all of us fully stuffed and entirely satisfied with the meal. Harieth is a smiling, passionate cook, who had been trained by a World Vision project several years before, being voted by her community to receive the training. With the grant from VEF, she was able to diversify her dishes, increase the number of plates and utensils, and now serves over 40 people per day; breakfast, lunch and dinner. Although she has cooked her entire life, she never had enough money to expand her business and raise her income until she had the necessary capital. Her business was a one room café with one table, but throughout our interview people stopped by to get food, proving how popular her cooking is in the village.

The last interview of the day was a trek out to a tomato field, run by the Umoja Garden Group and led by a young man named Weston Mamba. Weston was in his mid-twenties like myself and did not have a wife or kids. His parents had farmed vegetables their entire life and he applied for a pump so that he could start growing tomatoes, a crop that was foreign to his family. He explained how he had seen the crop growing in another village some time ago, and had learned how to care for the plants and get a bountiful harvest. However, tomatoes require more water than usual vegetables and before the pump Weston explained that he had poor harvests with small tomatoes. The well he used was about fifty yards away in the shade of a guava tree and lugging buckets of water took the entire day to irrigate the crops. Now he can set up the pump, have one worker do the stair-master exercise (how the pumps work) and water his field in only a couple of hours. Not only has his time of watering been reduced, but the tomatoes are bigger, juicier and sell for a better price in the market. When we finished the interview we looked at his well and then he picked some guava fruit for us that tasted amazing. I never knew that the guava fruit tasted identically to the drink you can buy at the store, but it was exactly the same and delicious.

When we finished, we began the 45 minute walk back to the guest house, stopping by a local soccer game on the way. Some of the players played barefoot, on a field with tall dry grass and goals built from old pipes. It looked like the entire village had come out to watch the match, and we later found out that it was a championship game and the winning side received a 10,000 shilling award. After watching for a while we decided to get back to the guest house, as we were all pretty exhausted.
That night Jake, David and I enjoyed a Tanzanian beer while watching the stars. Seeing the southern sky is pretty amazing, with the constellations foreign to the sky back home in California. When we went to bed we were fully exhausted, and luckily the local bar across the road had closed early that night, so I had peaceful, quite rest.

Today (Friday) was a brief day in the field. Jake had taken a ride back to Dodoma earlier in the day to do some work, while Jackson, David and I went to film a few beneficiaries’ houses. We wanted to get some footage of what village life is like and be able to show people back home the difference in a simple amenity, housing. First we visited Harieth Chipaga, who ran a store in the front of her house. It was a relatively large home, with an open-air courtyard in the middle. Although her family had been living in the house before receiving the VEF grant, she said that they could not afford anything except the daily need of food and some clothing. Now she has furniture and some extra trinkets that make her home so much more welcoming, on top of being able to send her kids to school. The second home we visited was a pump recipient, named Joel Mayangusi, who had built the home himself 15 years ago. It was a very nice home with smooth walls and floors that are not common in the village. It is amazing how the villagers use local materials to erect their homes, the roof supports were all branches, cut perfectly to act like columns. He was always smiling and really wanted us to tell the donors how appreciative he and is family is, and how the pump has made their lives better.

By eleven-thirty, it was time to wait by the road for a dala dala. Although the main stop was in the village by our guest house, you can hop on a dala dala anywhere as long as there is just enough room for you to squeeze in. After an hour wait one showed up, and we hopped on, especially happy because it was not even close to being at full capacity, as our ride out of Dodoma had been. The people onboard were very curious about all of our equipment and asked Jackson a lot of questions about our work and where we had come from. I cannot even begin to explain how much Jackson has helped us out; having us constantly asking him for translations, making sure that we were being respectful of the villagers, meanwhile always speaking to us with a smile and being patient. When we finally got back to Richard’s we thanked him very much and I look forward to visiting his village in a couple of weeks. Now, night has fallen and we are back in Dodoma, for a weekend of relaxing and editing footage. I think that after spending so much time in the village, I will really enjoy sitting back, reading and possibly hiking up the hills behind Richard’s house, which show a spectacular view of Dodoma especially as the sun sets. If you have read this far, I am impressed, I apologize for the lengthy entry, there is just so much to say.