A Glorious Day in Michese

Written on June 23, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Philip Arscott

Today was a great day. Although it began as most days here; tea and bread with jam, leaving two hours later than expected, the sun beginning its daily baking upon my skin the second I leave the house, it quickly became unique, exhilarating and just straight enjoyable. We entered Dodoma, did an errand before renting bikes that David, Jackson and I were going to ride to a little village called Michese. For a total of 4,500 schillings, we had the bikes for two days and their simple designed promised us that they would survive the unpaved streets.

When we finally set out upon our trek, the sun was high, and within minutes I was shaking the sweat off of my forehead in a futile attempt to keep the moisture off of my sunglasses. David, Jackson and I did not really have any clue how long it was to Michese, which was a good thing, because we instead focused our attention on the varied terrain and patches of sand that would make you nearly topple over. Along the way we ran into Frederick Masungula, who is the Village Business Mentor (VBM) for the village, and he escorted us the rest of the way, I following him closely behind because he knew the best path through the sand ditches. We finally reached Michese and dropped off our bikes at a beneficiary’s house so that we could traverse the village on foot. The first stop was a farmer who had received a pump instead of a grant, but her field was a solid 30 minutes from where we left the bikes, so along the way we saw a lot of the beautiful countryside. One thing that caught our eyes as well as our video camera was a group of kids getting ready to roast mice that they had caught around their houses. It was remarkable watching them hunt the mice: one kid has a homemade bow and arrow, and he somehow has the aim of a sniper, hitting the five inch long rodents with ferocious accuracy. Since meat is a rarity in the villages, maybe a couple of times a month, any sort of protein is worthwhile, and for all that I know, roast mouse could be delicious. We passed on the taste option, but continued to walk into the acres of crops.

After a long journey; on paths through harvested corn stalks, along a sandy dry riverbed, passing by some people shoveling dirt and all the while chewing on some sugarcane a young boy had sold to us, we made it to Salome Chituta’s field of tomatoes, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, okra and corn, run by the Nzinje Group. We have filmed many of the pump project beneficiaries, but today we did it a little differently. Instead of using our prepared questions, we would ask questions based on what the previous answer was, of course keeping to an imaginary outline to make sure the interview came full circle. What I immediately noticed with this technique is that when I asked her questions directly, and not off of a piece of paper, she would react in a much more real and thoughtful way. I would catch those little smirks that people get when they speak about their family or the confidence one shows when they discuss their business endeavors, but most importantly, I saw the flush of emotions that one shows when they explain how their life has improved and continues to climb the ladder out of poverty. Although it was the first footage of the day, I now felt a surge of comfort in the way I related to the villagers and knew that this footage was better than most of the previous days’ work.
Salome showed us her fields, the techniques they used to plant each seedling in a hole to preserve water, how the pump has allowed two wells spaced at either end of the field to water a much larger area than by traditional means, all the while enjoying the sun’s overhead warmth mixed with the chilled sensation of the wind breathing through my shirt. When we departed we followed the river bed a little further, then through a maze with the bush covering our head in some places but finally reaching a peculiar trench that was straight as an arrow. Jackson and Frederick explained that the trench was part of a government funded project to supply water from a deep well to the village, but the catch was that each day the villagers were required to assist in the labor to dig the trench. In a place that is so underdeveloped, where water is treasured but rarely purified, the concept of the entire village laying a hand to benefit their lives reached beyond symbolism and reflected how the community was working to benefit their entire village together. It was even more interesting when David turned to me and said, “Now this is development” and it really made me wonder- with all of the scholars and politicians spending countless hours in their offices trying to decipher the proper means to stimulate development, there is no substitute for a community coming together to stimulate that development themselves, with a little financial assistance of course. Either way, I thought it was very cool.

We stopped by another pump recipient who farmed sugarcane, but decided that we would interview them the next day so that we could get footage of them using the pump since it was not there at the time. Sugarcane is a pretty remarkable plant, I don’t know if I’d ever seen a field of them before in person. Reaching upwards of 15 feet, with stalks that have a resemblance to corn, they sway gently in the wind but create a pleasant sound as their fibrous leaves brush each other. They gave us some as a gift, and for the twenty minute back to the center of Michese, the David, Jacskson, Fredrick, Salome and I chewed on the sweet, watery cane, thinking about how this would be a dentist’s nightmare. The heat was overwhelming and the little juice that we extracted from the treat was not enough to quench our thirst, so we stopped by a beneficiary’s store for some water and shade. In the courtyard that was surrounded by four houses, we sat and drank, while some kids sat and stared. The water did not last long and we were going to return to conduct an interview with the store’s owner after lunch, so we bid farewell to the crowd and made it to a café.

David and I sat in a room adjacent to the outdoor cooking stand (café for short) which consisted of a stove, a bucket of potatoes, eggs and a little glass display box where cooked fries were stored. Lunch consisted of fried egg morphed with the potato wedges; the salty, oily goodness having a wonderful taste complimented perfectly with some ketchup. With a warm coca-cola and a broken conversation with some local men enjoying a beer in the 3pm heat, the meal was beyond satisfactory and I was ready for the last two interviews of the day. We returned to the store where we had purchased the water, which was owned by the Pesa group, with Simon Msimbile working Monday’s shift. I conducted a business competition survey that went very well, and afterwards David began the interview. The children who were staring earlier were making too much noise, so I took them to the edge of the courtyard and began taking pictures. The kids went nuts. Every time I took one, I would show the kids on the LCD screen, and they would laugh and yell and immediately want to try another pose. This lasted for nearly ten minutes and by the end I had accumulated countless priceless pictures, and the kids were so dismayed when I told them I had to stop because I felt like taking a seat. The children are so fun to watch and interact with; they not having a care in the world and think little more of my camera than a fun toy, its metallic frame, colorful screen and extending zoom so foreign to the dusty streets of the village.

When David had finished the interview, the sun was sagging in the sky and with the knowledge of a bumpy and long bike ride home, we set off to the last beneficiary of the day, Juma Masudi of the Chekereni Group. He buys chickens in the rural villages and then sells them in Dodoma to hotels, businesses and everyday people, which is a very profitable business since his transportation is a relatively short ride to Dodoma by bike. He had been waiting all day for us (we were unknowledgeable of this throughout the day unfortunately) but was very happy that we had finally arrived and gave us a high-quality interview and showed us how he ties his homemade chicken cage to the back of his bike. The benefits that the VEF grant brought to his life were right in front of our eyes, he having built his house using modern methods (cement, plaster, metal roof with wood supports) with the profits from the business, which meant moving his family out of the common mud huts that most villagers live in. He has his children in school and can purchase furniture for the house along with a long list of other improvements that he was so willing to explain. The time came when we had to commence the finale- a bike ride back to Richard’s house in Dodoma, but not until Juma had given his sincere thanks to us and wished us the best with a firm handshake and gentle look in his eyes.

The bike ride home was what I think really made the day complete. Besides three very high-quality interviews and rewarding business visits, it is difficult to explain scene with the sun setting behind us as we dodged the sand ditches up and down the hills home. David and I discussed the day and how moments like this make any sort of homesickness disappear, because the beauty surrounding us took too much energy and emotion to absorb for any sort of negative feelings to remain. The air was cooler and the orange sunlight painted villages we passed which released any burden from my shoulders, not that I had many in the first place. We left the main road and passed through couple of villages as the light was failing, and came upon the road next to the dried riverbed, only to find a group of local children playing soccer in the grass that thrives where water once stood. As we passed they yelled, “Good morning” and “How are you;” the few phrases that they had probably learned in school, to which we replied “Good evening, how are you” and they would laugh and yell “fine” and an uncontrollable smile grew on my face, that I do not think will disappear until I fall asleep tonight. It is days like today when “Carpe Diem,” the phrase my father used to always tell me, seems to occur naturally without any difficult or overbearing effort, except a bumpy bike ride.