Written on July 6, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Philip Arscott
Today is my last day in Dodoma before I head out to meet up with the Vision Trip (VT). The VT is a group of people from the U.S. who are interested in seeing how VEF works in Tanzania, and is like a vacation plus some. So we will be going on safari in the Serengeti and then visiting the Ngorogoro Crater before circling back to Dodoma for a couple of days when the Tanzanian staff, David, Jake and I will take them around to villages to visit VEF beneficiaries. I am really excited to see another region of Tanzania but also wish there was more time so that I would get some more work done here. The whole trip has been a learning process when it comes to filming businesses, asking the right questions and then editing, and in the last two weeks I feel as though I have really begun to understand it all and would love to continue, if there was more time. Today David and I worked on a couple of videos with me commentating them, which worked out pretty well and maybe when we get back to the states I will help him put together some more final videos.
So on my last day here, I woke up late, had a nice breakfast and lunch and did some editing with David in between. When the afternoon rolled around I went on my last hike in the hills behind Richard’s house which I have really grown attached to. Although I have not done a lot of hiking back home, the fact that I can walk for five minutes and be in unsettled terrain makes it so nice. I hiked up to this one hill that has huge boulders that overlook Dodoma and valley that surrounds it, and sat up there for a while to reminisce on my time here. Tanzania is an amazing place and after taking college courses and reading books on development, there is nothing that can compare to what you learn on the ground, especially when it comes to the kindness and generosity of the people. I obviously have spent a relatively short time here, but nonetheless I feel like when I start thinking about what development is, I have a different perspective than before and one that conflicts with many things that I have learned. I think most importantly, it is too easy to judge one region of the world based on the context of where you are from and how things have been in your life. I was raised far from the arid, isolated villages that I visited, where meat is usually eaten in celebration of a holiday or festival and water is scarce and unpurified, with no crates of 20 oz bottles from Price club in site which I am so used to. But there is one thing that I find here just as I do back home, and that is the importance of family and relationships with those around you, and how a smile or a handshake is part of the universal language that binds us all. I don’t want to sound preachy or philosophical, but it makes a difference, especially when you don’t speak the same language as someone you are interacting with.
I have really loved my time here and I am sure that the next week of traveling with the Vision Trip will be really different than the last month but a continuation of my Tanznian journey. But I have learned a lot and hopefully my return to the U.S. in a few weeks will allow me to use what I’ve acquired or at least point me in the right direction.
Showing posts with label Tanzania. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tanzania. Show all posts
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.
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.
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.
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.
A Gift from Aruben
Written on June 7, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Philip Arscott
Today Jake, David and I went into Dodoma on our own for the first time. It turns out that it is a relatively short walk to downtown, although taking the roads makes it seem much longer. Right upon entering the city, we ran into a VEF beneficiary that we had seen the day before, when Noel drove us into town for some groceries and to show us around. They were displaying their goods to us: African paintings, wood carvings, and jewelry, all very beautiful but it was too early in our excursion to make any purchases. Aruben, the leader of the group, (I assume because he was spearheading the conversation) assured us that when we wanted to see more of their goods to come to a corner about 200 yards away. We promised to stop by before we made the return journey, and then ventured into the bustling market.
The streets lined with shops and kiosks, is quite a site. Anything you need from hand-carved wood bed frames to flat screen TV’s were ready for purchase. We wandered around for a little, enjoyed a soda at a café, but really just took in the sights, smells and sounds. We did have a few things on our list to purchase, most important were the mosquito nets needed for the nights we would spent out in the villages. Every twenty feet or so we would hear people shout “Caribou!” or “Welcome” and many people would stop us to shake our hands, welcoming us to their side of the world. Although few of the streets are paved, the capital is alive with business and music coming from every direction. The colors of the fabrics hanging from the tailor’s shop to the finished traditional shirts reflect the lively atmosphere I’ve experienced thus far in Tanzania. One of my favorite things to watch is a man preparing sugarcane for sale. Looking like an enlarged bamboo stick, the cane does not look very appetizing until the skilled seller slashes at the stick with a long knife, revealing the sweet meat inside. I will have to purchase one of the bags of sugarcane pieces one of these days, when my sweet tooth is calling.
We wandered a little while longer and after making a loop of the market, we purchased our mosquito nets and headed for the corner where Aruben was waiting. He seemed surprised that we kept our promise but was ready to give us a bargain. They had little carved sticks that hid dull knife blades, beaded jewelry both wood and stone, and African paintings that they offered at a much better price than some we had already purchased a few days before. After a couple sales to each of us and a little bargaining, we said that we must head back before it got too late and miss dinner. Aruben then pulled out three beaded bracelets for us and gave them to us as a gift. Although we had made a purchase it was a very generous gesture, and we tanked him very much and promised we would see him again in the coming month. We caught a taxi for the journey home which cost less than $3, and I was quite content with meeting such a nice VEF beneficiary on the streets of Dodoma so early in our stay in Tanzania.
By Philip Arscott
Today Jake, David and I went into Dodoma on our own for the first time. It turns out that it is a relatively short walk to downtown, although taking the roads makes it seem much longer. Right upon entering the city, we ran into a VEF beneficiary that we had seen the day before, when Noel drove us into town for some groceries and to show us around. They were displaying their goods to us: African paintings, wood carvings, and jewelry, all very beautiful but it was too early in our excursion to make any purchases. Aruben, the leader of the group, (I assume because he was spearheading the conversation) assured us that when we wanted to see more of their goods to come to a corner about 200 yards away. We promised to stop by before we made the return journey, and then ventured into the bustling market.
The streets lined with shops and kiosks, is quite a site. Anything you need from hand-carved wood bed frames to flat screen TV’s were ready for purchase. We wandered around for a little, enjoyed a soda at a café, but really just took in the sights, smells and sounds. We did have a few things on our list to purchase, most important were the mosquito nets needed for the nights we would spent out in the villages. Every twenty feet or so we would hear people shout “Caribou!” or “Welcome” and many people would stop us to shake our hands, welcoming us to their side of the world. Although few of the streets are paved, the capital is alive with business and music coming from every direction. The colors of the fabrics hanging from the tailor’s shop to the finished traditional shirts reflect the lively atmosphere I’ve experienced thus far in Tanzania. One of my favorite things to watch is a man preparing sugarcane for sale. Looking like an enlarged bamboo stick, the cane does not look very appetizing until the skilled seller slashes at the stick with a long knife, revealing the sweet meat inside. I will have to purchase one of the bags of sugarcane pieces one of these days, when my sweet tooth is calling.
We wandered a little while longer and after making a loop of the market, we purchased our mosquito nets and headed for the corner where Aruben was waiting. He seemed surprised that we kept our promise but was ready to give us a bargain. They had little carved sticks that hid dull knife blades, beaded jewelry both wood and stone, and African paintings that they offered at a much better price than some we had already purchased a few days before. After a couple sales to each of us and a little bargaining, we said that we must head back before it got too late and miss dinner. Aruben then pulled out three beaded bracelets for us and gave them to us as a gift. Although we had made a purchase it was a very generous gesture, and we tanked him very much and promised we would see him again in the coming month. We caught a taxi for the journey home which cost less than $3, and I was quite content with meeting such a nice VEF beneficiary on the streets of Dodoma so early in our stay in Tanzania.
Welcome to Dodoma
Written on June 5, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Philip Arscott
It has been a couple days since my last entry, and since then a lot has happened. After we awoke at the hotel, we had a nice little breakfast of toast, jam and egg with tea, then set out to confirm our bus tickets. Interestingly enough, the bus carrier is called Scandinavian Express, but then again it is only a name. We confirmed our bus tickets and had some time to spare so we set out to meet Noel’s brother Julius and his wife, who live near the bus station. He invited us in and gave each of us a Pepsi, a very generous way to welcome strangers into his two room home. Although it was a small place, Julius seemed very happy and his wife was all smiles when she met us. His English was not very good, so we discussed a only a few things by the time we needed to leave. After thanking him for the sodas, we headed back to the bus station and prepared for our journey.
The bus ride would end up taking eight hours, but it was not too bad. The heat and smog of Dar was left behind us, as we passed field after field of corn, rice, vegetables, and cresol- remnants of Dutch plantations that used the plant for its fiber. It was absolutely gorgeous, and the skyline was rarely broken by man-made structures. The semi-tropical habitat around the coastal region gave way to the more arid landscape of central Tanzania, beautiful in its own right. It was great to have to slow down in certain villages due to traffic, because street vendors would come running up trying to sell their products. I purchased an orange that was refreshing and cleared some of the dust from my mouth and throat. At one of stops, where we could use the restroom and purchase some goods, one of Noel’s sisters met us, and it was nice getting to meet so members of his family in one day. It seems as though he is one of the more traveled kids, since she did not speak much English like Julius. When we finally reached our destination, after a several more brief stops at fruit and vegetable stands, the sun was fading beyond the mountains and we waited anxiously and exhausted for our taxi. The ride to Richard Mazengo’s house (the country director of Tanzania) was bumpy and disorienting, with the radio blaring news in Swahili and the roads twisting every which way. We could not have arrived at a more perfect time, as the food on the table was still warm and waiting to be consumed.
Our dinner consisted of rice, noodles, and two type of beef stew, and everything tasted amazing. We had eaten breakfast at 9am, so all of us were ready for the meal. Richard welcomed us after we had eaten and settled in, he was exited to have us here and as most people have told us, he said “Be free” or in other words, make yourself at home. We did just that and no sooner had I unpacked and begun to scribble a few lines in my journal, my eyes began to fail me. So I crawled under the covers and slept like a rock.
Morning came very quickly; maybe I was tired from traveling but the sun seems to rise earlier here. After a breakfast of toast and tea, we began our orientation and to discuss the schedule of our trip with Richard, Noel and Margaret, the office manager. The scheduling is difficult, as visiting villages requires informing the VBMs, arranging accommodations and attempting to be as efficient with our time as possible. The schedule we developed is tentative and I am sure will change but it was nice to get it out of the way. The rest of the day was used to get acquainted with the office and surroundings, and later I accompanied Noel on a trip to the Hospital to help out another one of his sisters. It was nice to drive through the area during the day and see what Dodoma looks like. You would not expect it to be the capital, with only a few paved roads and the dirt roads barely passable even in an SUV. However, the kids all smile when they see me pass, many of them giving me a “thumbs up” which Noel explained to me is the cool way to say hi for the youths. Everywhere there are scattered patches of gardens, the dirt slightly darker than the dry red dust that cloaks everything here during the dry season.
When we returned from our excursion, we had some time to relax and read. I have a feeling that I will see much more down time here than back home, as life ticks to a different clock. David and I played around with the monkey that Richard has in the front yard, it is tied up because it eats the leaves of all the trees. Apparently they have tried to let it free miles away from here, but he somehow manages to find his way home. For dinner, Noel took us into Dodoma and we ate at an outdoor café that had barbeque chicken. It was really good and I felt very comfortable in the cool evening air, although each breeze was just enough to wish you had a sweater. Obama has won the Democratic Primary, as evident on all the newspapers in Dodoma. The people here have taken much interest in our election due to Obama’s heritage, although Noel said that he may have voted for Clinton if he had the chance, due to the success of Bill Clinton’s presidency. After discussing our politics, we talked about Tanzania’s and then the African Union’s role. Noel shows great faith in his government and the African Union’s ability to calm political unrest, especially in the chaos of the current Zimbabwe election. So we will see if his faith is tested by the upcoming events. Well that is all for now, I hope that all is well back home and the election is finally getting into its final leg, since our government definitely needs to step out of the quicksand that we seem to be trapped in.
By Philip Arscott
It has been a couple days since my last entry, and since then a lot has happened. After we awoke at the hotel, we had a nice little breakfast of toast, jam and egg with tea, then set out to confirm our bus tickets. Interestingly enough, the bus carrier is called Scandinavian Express, but then again it is only a name. We confirmed our bus tickets and had some time to spare so we set out to meet Noel’s brother Julius and his wife, who live near the bus station. He invited us in and gave each of us a Pepsi, a very generous way to welcome strangers into his two room home. Although it was a small place, Julius seemed very happy and his wife was all smiles when she met us. His English was not very good, so we discussed a only a few things by the time we needed to leave. After thanking him for the sodas, we headed back to the bus station and prepared for our journey.
The bus ride would end up taking eight hours, but it was not too bad. The heat and smog of Dar was left behind us, as we passed field after field of corn, rice, vegetables, and cresol- remnants of Dutch plantations that used the plant for its fiber. It was absolutely gorgeous, and the skyline was rarely broken by man-made structures. The semi-tropical habitat around the coastal region gave way to the more arid landscape of central Tanzania, beautiful in its own right. It was great to have to slow down in certain villages due to traffic, because street vendors would come running up trying to sell their products. I purchased an orange that was refreshing and cleared some of the dust from my mouth and throat. At one of stops, where we could use the restroom and purchase some goods, one of Noel’s sisters met us, and it was nice getting to meet so members of his family in one day. It seems as though he is one of the more traveled kids, since she did not speak much English like Julius. When we finally reached our destination, after a several more brief stops at fruit and vegetable stands, the sun was fading beyond the mountains and we waited anxiously and exhausted for our taxi. The ride to Richard Mazengo’s house (the country director of Tanzania) was bumpy and disorienting, with the radio blaring news in Swahili and the roads twisting every which way. We could not have arrived at a more perfect time, as the food on the table was still warm and waiting to be consumed.
Our dinner consisted of rice, noodles, and two type of beef stew, and everything tasted amazing. We had eaten breakfast at 9am, so all of us were ready for the meal. Richard welcomed us after we had eaten and settled in, he was exited to have us here and as most people have told us, he said “Be free” or in other words, make yourself at home. We did just that and no sooner had I unpacked and begun to scribble a few lines in my journal, my eyes began to fail me. So I crawled under the covers and slept like a rock.
Morning came very quickly; maybe I was tired from traveling but the sun seems to rise earlier here. After a breakfast of toast and tea, we began our orientation and to discuss the schedule of our trip with Richard, Noel and Margaret, the office manager. The scheduling is difficult, as visiting villages requires informing the VBMs, arranging accommodations and attempting to be as efficient with our time as possible. The schedule we developed is tentative and I am sure will change but it was nice to get it out of the way. The rest of the day was used to get acquainted with the office and surroundings, and later I accompanied Noel on a trip to the Hospital to help out another one of his sisters. It was nice to drive through the area during the day and see what Dodoma looks like. You would not expect it to be the capital, with only a few paved roads and the dirt roads barely passable even in an SUV. However, the kids all smile when they see me pass, many of them giving me a “thumbs up” which Noel explained to me is the cool way to say hi for the youths. Everywhere there are scattered patches of gardens, the dirt slightly darker than the dry red dust that cloaks everything here during the dry season.
When we returned from our excursion, we had some time to relax and read. I have a feeling that I will see much more down time here than back home, as life ticks to a different clock. David and I played around with the monkey that Richard has in the front yard, it is tied up because it eats the leaves of all the trees. Apparently they have tried to let it free miles away from here, but he somehow manages to find his way home. For dinner, Noel took us into Dodoma and we ate at an outdoor café that had barbeque chicken. It was really good and I felt very comfortable in the cool evening air, although each breeze was just enough to wish you had a sweater. Obama has won the Democratic Primary, as evident on all the newspapers in Dodoma. The people here have taken much interest in our election due to Obama’s heritage, although Noel said that he may have voted for Clinton if he had the chance, due to the success of Bill Clinton’s presidency. After discussing our politics, we talked about Tanzania’s and then the African Union’s role. Noel shows great faith in his government and the African Union’s ability to calm political unrest, especially in the chaos of the current Zimbabwe election. So we will see if his faith is tested by the upcoming events. Well that is all for now, I hope that all is well back home and the election is finally getting into its final leg, since our government definitely needs to step out of the quicksand that we seem to be trapped in.
My Tanzanian Journey Begins
Written on June 3, 2008 from Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania
By Philip Arscott
My Tanzanian journey has finally begun. After deboarding the plane and waiting anxiously with the other 100 people trying to get a visa, the warm, humid air of Dar Es Salaam filled my tired body with hopes of a good trip. It turned out that I still had about seven hours to burn until David and Jake arrived, so I went outside and got to business. I purchased a phone, ate a great meal at the the only cafe I could see and spent most of the downtime reading and observing. Dar Es Salaam is a very diverse place, and the airport is an even more concentrated taste of that. While sitting by the airport entrance, a little boy was running in and out of the security checkpoint with a lollipop in his mouth and toy gun at hand, every once and a while taking aim at whomever he chose. I thought about how a plastic hand gun would be confiscated immediately at an airport in the U.S. but oh well. He came up and briefly sat next to me, on the bench where his scarfed mother and I assume sisters sat as well but did not give him enough entertainment. So he jumped up and ran around tapping the knees of those sitting around us. It was very amusing and took whatever judgements I may have made for letting a kid carry a plastic gun in an airport disappear. The day went by quickly, with countless taxi drivers offering me a ride to which I always replied, "No thank you, I have a friend who will pick me up." I think they must have been confused though, because I saw many of them throughout my seven hour wait outside. It was a relief when David and Jake's plane arrived and more of a relief when Noel Joram, the Assistant Country Director of Tanzania, approached me and asked if I was associated with VEF. Now with my other two interns and our Swahili speaking leader, I did not feel so alone.
We took taxi to the hotel, a ride that was overwhelming after seeing the same scene outside the airport all day. Everytime we stopped, vendors would carry their goods between the traffic; nuts, fruits, books, knives you name it they got it, and every once and a while made a sale. Once at the hotel we sat for a meal, I had not eaten for a while and my middle-eastern inspired dish was delightful. During our meal, evening prayers spread across the city, reminding us that Dar Es Salaam is very much an Arab inspired city as it is African. We finally made it up to our room, and after realizing how tired I was, I was out before the lights were turned off. What an amazing first day.
By Philip Arscott
My Tanzanian journey has finally begun. After deboarding the plane and waiting anxiously with the other 100 people trying to get a visa, the warm, humid air of Dar Es Salaam filled my tired body with hopes of a good trip. It turned out that I still had about seven hours to burn until David and Jake arrived, so I went outside and got to business. I purchased a phone, ate a great meal at the the only cafe I could see and spent most of the downtime reading and observing. Dar Es Salaam is a very diverse place, and the airport is an even more concentrated taste of that. While sitting by the airport entrance, a little boy was running in and out of the security checkpoint with a lollipop in his mouth and toy gun at hand, every once and a while taking aim at whomever he chose. I thought about how a plastic hand gun would be confiscated immediately at an airport in the U.S. but oh well. He came up and briefly sat next to me, on the bench where his scarfed mother and I assume sisters sat as well but did not give him enough entertainment. So he jumped up and ran around tapping the knees of those sitting around us. It was very amusing and took whatever judgements I may have made for letting a kid carry a plastic gun in an airport disappear. The day went by quickly, with countless taxi drivers offering me a ride to which I always replied, "No thank you, I have a friend who will pick me up." I think they must have been confused though, because I saw many of them throughout my seven hour wait outside. It was a relief when David and Jake's plane arrived and more of a relief when Noel Joram, the Assistant Country Director of Tanzania, approached me and asked if I was associated with VEF. Now with my other two interns and our Swahili speaking leader, I did not feel so alone.
We took taxi to the hotel, a ride that was overwhelming after seeing the same scene outside the airport all day. Everytime we stopped, vendors would carry their goods between the traffic; nuts, fruits, books, knives you name it they got it, and every once and a while made a sale. Once at the hotel we sat for a meal, I had not eaten for a while and my middle-eastern inspired dish was delightful. During our meal, evening prayers spread across the city, reminding us that Dar Es Salaam is very much an Arab inspired city as it is African. We finally made it up to our room, and after realizing how tired I was, I was out before the lights were turned off. What an amazing first day.
Departure from Dodoma
Written on May 24, 2008 in Dodoma, Tanzania
By Anne Olson
My travel arrangements have been made. I will take the bus to Dar es Salaam on Monday; taking the bus will give me a chance to see some of the country and I haven't had much chance to do that before. It will take all day to get there but at least the roads are good. I will stay in Dar Monday night and leave early Tuesday morning (a 5:25am flight!) to go to Kigali Rwanda via Nairobi. I arrive in Kigali about 10:30am so will have the afternoon there as well as a couple more days. I will be seeing Ritah, a woman I met at a conference in California last summer. She is working on a project to educate young girls so I will visit her project as well as do some touristy things. I will leave for Entebbe, Uganda on Friday afternoon and then on to Soroti, my Ugandan home, on Saturday. I am excited to visit another East African country and then to see my Ugandan friends. I'll be in Soroti for about 3 weeks.
By Anne Olson
My travel arrangements have been made. I will take the bus to Dar es Salaam on Monday; taking the bus will give me a chance to see some of the country and I haven't had much chance to do that before. It will take all day to get there but at least the roads are good. I will stay in Dar Monday night and leave early Tuesday morning (a 5:25am flight!) to go to Kigali Rwanda via Nairobi. I arrive in Kigali about 10:30am so will have the afternoon there as well as a couple more days. I will be seeing Ritah, a woman I met at a conference in California last summer. She is working on a project to educate young girls so I will visit her project as well as do some touristy things. I will leave for Entebbe, Uganda on Friday afternoon and then on to Soroti, my Ugandan home, on Saturday. I am excited to visit another East African country and then to see my Ugandan friends. I'll be in Soroti for about 3 weeks.
Training Adventures...
Written on May 23, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Anne Olson
Training has gone well. We did learn that we cannot do QuickBooks on a computer at an internet café due to the need to install ActiveX (additional software) for QuickBooks to run. Luckily we had my laptop and so they worked together entering expenses using it. Since we didn't get to the internet café until 3pm and could only use one computer it took us longer than I had planned. So it was after 5:30 when we got back to the office and we still had a couple more things to do. It wasn't hard to convince them that we should start at 10am the next day so we could get everything done! We did that for 2 days and got everything done with some time to review documentation in the afternoon one day and time for them to look at reports the next day. I feel pretty good about what they know and their ability to carry on when I leave. The hardest thing to get across is "no signature no money"; you have to sign in order to receive any money from the petty cash box. So much money goes out the door in cash, often times just small amounts, that keeping track of it requires paperwork. We'll see how they do.
By Anne Olson
Training has gone well. We did learn that we cannot do QuickBooks on a computer at an internet café due to the need to install ActiveX (additional software) for QuickBooks to run. Luckily we had my laptop and so they worked together entering expenses using it. Since we didn't get to the internet café until 3pm and could only use one computer it took us longer than I had planned. So it was after 5:30 when we got back to the office and we still had a couple more things to do. It wasn't hard to convince them that we should start at 10am the next day so we could get everything done! We did that for 2 days and got everything done with some time to review documentation in the afternoon one day and time for them to look at reports the next day. I feel pretty good about what they know and their ability to carry on when I leave. The hardest thing to get across is "no signature no money"; you have to sign in order to receive any money from the petty cash box. So much money goes out the door in cash, often times just small amounts, that keeping track of it requires paperwork. We'll see how they do.
Still No Internet!
Written on May 13, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Anne Olson
Last night Richard was working with his two oldest sons to copy and assemble a booklet for use at church. It was so fun watching them work together. The younger of the two boys is technically oriented and I could tell that by the way he arranged the piles of paper and assembled the booklet. His mind just works in a logical, process-oriented way. They were fun to watch and the final product looked great (though I could not read it as it was in Swahili!). Baraka was here too and his swollen face is almost back to normal.
Phone line works today but the internet doesn't! This is getting so frustrating for me as there is much to do and we need to be connected to do it. Sigh! Patience has never been my strong point but to live and work here I MUST have patience! The internet is up in town but we are not able to connect from the office. The techs are here trying to get things figured out but they are struggling too. I'll have Noel take me to town today to send/receive mail and do a couple of other things. It doesn't solve the problem of QuickBooks training unless we decide to do that in town also. Technology!!!
By Anne Olson
Last night Richard was working with his two oldest sons to copy and assemble a booklet for use at church. It was so fun watching them work together. The younger of the two boys is technically oriented and I could tell that by the way he arranged the piles of paper and assembled the booklet. His mind just works in a logical, process-oriented way. They were fun to watch and the final product looked great (though I could not read it as it was in Swahili!). Baraka was here too and his swollen face is almost back to normal.
Phone line works today but the internet doesn't! This is getting so frustrating for me as there is much to do and we need to be connected to do it. Sigh! Patience has never been my strong point but to live and work here I MUST have patience! The internet is up in town but we are not able to connect from the office. The techs are here trying to get things figured out but they are struggling too. I'll have Noel take me to town today to send/receive mail and do a couple of other things. It doesn't solve the problem of QuickBooks training unless we decide to do that in town also. Technology!!!
Church and "Habari"
Written on May 12, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Anne Olson
Yesterday I attended services at Richard's church. It is a big beautiful church that has been 6-7 years in the making. All of the labor has been supplied by volunteers from the congregation. It isn't finished yet but is far enough along to be used. They moved in since I was here in April 2007. The service is long with lots of singing; I do love the music, especially the children's choir. Richard's daughter Naomi has such a nice voice and is one of the lead singers. She's about 12-13 years old. Margreth, the VEF Office Manager, is also active in the choirs. She was my "host" at services, so I sat with her and she'd tell me what was going on (especially when it was time for me to introduce myself and she translated to Swahili). When she was up front singing, her first-born son who is about 7 came to sit with me. It was so cute. He is in the children's choir and his dad is the bass player in the band. A musical family! The baby who is not yet 2, would also get with the rhythm of the music.
The rest of the day was relaxing. I sat out on the porch and read for much of the afternoon. Thank God for good books and the time to read them.
On Saturday, Richard's children were playing outside, chasing each other and hiding behind a bush. As they ran down the side of the house, I heard Baraka scream (Baraka is Richard's last-born and is about 7-8 years old; his name means blessings in Swahili). Richard told me later that he'd been stung near his left eye. When I saw him yesterday, the whole left side of his face was swollen and his eye was just a slit. Poor kid! I hadn't given the children the book or other things I'd brought for them so I took the opportunity to give them to him. I haven't seen him today so don't know if the swelling has gone down yet.
The phone line has not been fixed yet so still no internet. Richard is going to "do battle" today to get things going. He's got an email backlog in everything that he does since it has been almost 3 weeks without connection. Just a reminder for me as an American – I take so many things for granted when I should be grateful.
The drugs are working and my throat is much better. Still a bit red and glands still a bit swollen but getting better. I am very grateful to be able to swallow without pain! A few more days to finish the meds that I have. Health – another thing to be grateful for.
I continue to walk most mornings. I've learned to greet people with "habari" which means "how are you?. Most people reply "nzuri" or "salama" which means "good" or "fine". However, some reply with more and if they are asking me anything, I have no idea what they are saying! People are very friendly and greet me with smiles especially if I smile first. In Kenya, I learned that the morning greeting was habari because no matter what I said to people (good morning, hello), the response was always "fine" or "nzuri".
Today there were a couple of VBMs in the office to fill out grant forms. I'd been reviewing forms from the last grant cycle and identified some data that was missing so I took the opportunity to review their forms and give some feedback. Then we got into income and expenses for some of the businesses. We worked through it with me asking questions but I am not sure that they really got it. Lyndsay and I had been working on a worksheet that would help a VFC work through that with the beneficiaries and I think we need to get back to that. Then we'll need to do some training, especially here in Tanzania. Could that mean another trip to Africa for me in the future?????
By Anne Olson
Yesterday I attended services at Richard's church. It is a big beautiful church that has been 6-7 years in the making. All of the labor has been supplied by volunteers from the congregation. It isn't finished yet but is far enough along to be used. They moved in since I was here in April 2007. The service is long with lots of singing; I do love the music, especially the children's choir. Richard's daughter Naomi has such a nice voice and is one of the lead singers. She's about 12-13 years old. Margreth, the VEF Office Manager, is also active in the choirs. She was my "host" at services, so I sat with her and she'd tell me what was going on (especially when it was time for me to introduce myself and she translated to Swahili). When she was up front singing, her first-born son who is about 7 came to sit with me. It was so cute. He is in the children's choir and his dad is the bass player in the band. A musical family! The baby who is not yet 2, would also get with the rhythm of the music.
The rest of the day was relaxing. I sat out on the porch and read for much of the afternoon. Thank God for good books and the time to read them.
On Saturday, Richard's children were playing outside, chasing each other and hiding behind a bush. As they ran down the side of the house, I heard Baraka scream (Baraka is Richard's last-born and is about 7-8 years old; his name means blessings in Swahili). Richard told me later that he'd been stung near his left eye. When I saw him yesterday, the whole left side of his face was swollen and his eye was just a slit. Poor kid! I hadn't given the children the book or other things I'd brought for them so I took the opportunity to give them to him. I haven't seen him today so don't know if the swelling has gone down yet.
The phone line has not been fixed yet so still no internet. Richard is going to "do battle" today to get things going. He's got an email backlog in everything that he does since it has been almost 3 weeks without connection. Just a reminder for me as an American – I take so many things for granted when I should be grateful.
The drugs are working and my throat is much better. Still a bit red and glands still a bit swollen but getting better. I am very grateful to be able to swallow without pain! A few more days to finish the meds that I have. Health – another thing to be grateful for.
I continue to walk most mornings. I've learned to greet people with "habari" which means "how are you?. Most people reply "nzuri" or "salama" which means "good" or "fine". However, some reply with more and if they are asking me anything, I have no idea what they are saying! People are very friendly and greet me with smiles especially if I smile first. In Kenya, I learned that the morning greeting was habari because no matter what I said to people (good morning, hello), the response was always "fine" or "nzuri".
Today there were a couple of VBMs in the office to fill out grant forms. I'd been reviewing forms from the last grant cycle and identified some data that was missing so I took the opportunity to review their forms and give some feedback. Then we got into income and expenses for some of the businesses. We worked through it with me asking questions but I am not sure that they really got it. Lyndsay and I had been working on a worksheet that would help a VFC work through that with the beneficiaries and I think we need to get back to that. Then we'll need to do some training, especially here in Tanzania. Could that mean another trip to Africa for me in the future?????
A Trip to the Pharmacy on Swahili Time
Written on May 10, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Anne Olson
Today the phone line is down! You have to laugh so you don't scream in frustration. Richard, the Tanzania Country Director for VEF, says this is unusual for it to be down for so long (about a week and a half). He's planning to look into another connection method – wireless. Rowland, the training director who lives in Kenya, uses it all the time and he's pretty happy with it. Technology – so great when it works, so frustrating when it doesn't!
Noel stopped by in the morning to tell me what time he'd come to take me to town for shopping. He said he'd be back at 5:30 which I thought was a little late; but when I asked him if the shops would still be open, he said yes. So that was fine with me. About noon he was back and apologizing because he meant 5:30 Swahili time which is 11:30 British/American time. 6am British/American time is 12am Swahili time; therefore noon B/A time is 6am Swahili time. AM hours are daylight hours (dawn to dusk, 6am-6pm B/A time); PM hours are dark hours (6pm-6am B/A time). I remember reading about this the last time I was here but it had completely slipped my mind. Now I'll remember to ask "Swahili time or American time?" It was pretty funny.
Our first shopping stop was the pharmacy. I described my symptoms (with the help of Noel) and got antibiotics (no prescription needed!); the only question he asked me was "Tonsils?" (Yes). Zuclox (Ampicillin and Cloxacillin Capsules) 500mg, 3 times a day, 5 days, 1500 Tanzanian shillings (less than $1.50). Hope this works so I don't have to go to the doctor. I have never had a sore throat like this in my life! I don't like taking antibiotics but had to do something.
Every morning water is pumped from the main water source (town water system) into a large black holding tank that is up high on a platform. Water for the house comes from the holding tank and the height gives it water pressure. When the tank is full, water starts running out of the overflow pipe. It reminds me of Costa Rica. Every day we took turns pumping water (by hand) to fill the holding tank so we'd have water for showers, cooking and washing dishes. The pump was a small distance away from the holding tank with lots of banana trees and other jungle growth in between. So the "pumper" had to be told when the tank started to overflow; STOP was the usual message. Pumping wasn't too bad as there were usually monkeys in the trees to entertain you while you were pumping; if not, I would read a book or magazine. The holding tank in Costa Rica was a fraction of the size of this one – thank goodness!
By Anne Olson
Today the phone line is down! You have to laugh so you don't scream in frustration. Richard, the Tanzania Country Director for VEF, says this is unusual for it to be down for so long (about a week and a half). He's planning to look into another connection method – wireless. Rowland, the training director who lives in Kenya, uses it all the time and he's pretty happy with it. Technology – so great when it works, so frustrating when it doesn't!
Noel stopped by in the morning to tell me what time he'd come to take me to town for shopping. He said he'd be back at 5:30 which I thought was a little late; but when I asked him if the shops would still be open, he said yes. So that was fine with me. About noon he was back and apologizing because he meant 5:30 Swahili time which is 11:30 British/American time. 6am British/American time is 12am Swahili time; therefore noon B/A time is 6am Swahili time. AM hours are daylight hours (dawn to dusk, 6am-6pm B/A time); PM hours are dark hours (6pm-6am B/A time). I remember reading about this the last time I was here but it had completely slipped my mind. Now I'll remember to ask "Swahili time or American time?" It was pretty funny.
Our first shopping stop was the pharmacy. I described my symptoms (with the help of Noel) and got antibiotics (no prescription needed!); the only question he asked me was "Tonsils?" (Yes). Zuclox (Ampicillin and Cloxacillin Capsules) 500mg, 3 times a day, 5 days, 1500 Tanzanian shillings (less than $1.50). Hope this works so I don't have to go to the doctor. I have never had a sore throat like this in my life! I don't like taking antibiotics but had to do something.
Every morning water is pumped from the main water source (town water system) into a large black holding tank that is up high on a platform. Water for the house comes from the holding tank and the height gives it water pressure. When the tank is full, water starts running out of the overflow pipe. It reminds me of Costa Rica. Every day we took turns pumping water (by hand) to fill the holding tank so we'd have water for showers, cooking and washing dishes. The pump was a small distance away from the holding tank with lots of banana trees and other jungle growth in between. So the "pumper" had to be told when the tank started to overflow; STOP was the usual message. Pumping wasn't too bad as there were usually monkeys in the trees to entertain you while you were pumping; if not, I would read a book or magazine. The holding tank in Costa Rica was a fraction of the size of this one – thank goodness!
A Reoccuring Cold
Written on May 9, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Anne Olson
We got the authorization and voucher books so are ready to go with them. However, we still don't have internet connection so they have never seen QuickBooks. I've been doing what I can without the connection – reviewing the chart of accounts, looking at the April expenses that we have and asking them to identify which account they would charge it to, looking at the grant records that they have, etc. AND reading a lot of books!!! It's a good thing I brought lots of reading material. It is amazing how little I can do in the office here without an internet connection. We had it one day long enough to set up the local network and I was able to connect my computer through the desktop here. Got part of my email downloaded but not all of it. Pole pole (slowly slowly in Swahili – pronounced poe-lay with long o and long a).
I still have a sore throat (very red) and swollen glands. As long as I keep drinking liquids, I do okay. By morning it is pretty sore and I start over again. Not sure what my next steps should be. Pharmacy, doctor, …??? Will start with the pharmacy on Saturday.
I've been going out for a walk the last couple of mornings. Feels good to get out and move before the sun gets too hot. When I was in Kakamega, I walked to the office and back each day. Now I just come out of my bedroom and I am in the office (just like in Uganda). So I have to make an effort to get some exercise. I know the locals think I am a bit weird (you know how those mzungus – white people – are) as they walk to get from one place to another. I walk a certain distance and turn around and come back. Such strange behavior!
Tanzania is cooler than either Kenya or Uganda. There are screens on the windows so less worry about bugs but I still close the window at night so I don't get cold. Daytime temperatures are very pleasant.
I gave books, toys and treats to the staff today for their children. This weekend I will give the same to the children here. I haven't felt like going out to play with them but plan to make it happen this weekend no matter what my energy level is.
By Anne Olson
We got the authorization and voucher books so are ready to go with them. However, we still don't have internet connection so they have never seen QuickBooks. I've been doing what I can without the connection – reviewing the chart of accounts, looking at the April expenses that we have and asking them to identify which account they would charge it to, looking at the grant records that they have, etc. AND reading a lot of books!!! It's a good thing I brought lots of reading material. It is amazing how little I can do in the office here without an internet connection. We had it one day long enough to set up the local network and I was able to connect my computer through the desktop here. Got part of my email downloaded but not all of it. Pole pole (slowly slowly in Swahili – pronounced poe-lay with long o and long a).
I still have a sore throat (very red) and swollen glands. As long as I keep drinking liquids, I do okay. By morning it is pretty sore and I start over again. Not sure what my next steps should be. Pharmacy, doctor, …??? Will start with the pharmacy on Saturday.
I've been going out for a walk the last couple of mornings. Feels good to get out and move before the sun gets too hot. When I was in Kakamega, I walked to the office and back each day. Now I just come out of my bedroom and I am in the office (just like in Uganda). So I have to make an effort to get some exercise. I know the locals think I am a bit weird (you know how those mzungus – white people – are) as they walk to get from one place to another. I walk a certain distance and turn around and come back. Such strange behavior!
Tanzania is cooler than either Kenya or Uganda. There are screens on the windows so less worry about bugs but I still close the window at night so I don't get cold. Daytime temperatures are very pleasant.
I gave books, toys and treats to the staff today for their children. This weekend I will give the same to the children here. I haven't felt like going out to play with them but plan to make it happen this weekend no matter what my energy level is.
Kenya to Tanzania
Written on May 6, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Anne Olson
On Saturday I met with Louise Sewe of Wege Women Group Support Organization (WWGSO) – Beyond Biological Parenthood. Wege means parenthood in Luo – the local language and the language of Barack Obama's father. She's the woman I met at a conference in California. She is doing some good work in western Kenya, building a community in the villages to support the orphans and vulnerable children. Part of WWGSO's strategy is to improve the economic status of community members through sustainable income generating activities. This is where I think that VEF and WWGSO may be able to work together. So I connected Louise with Wilson, VEF Country Director. The next steps are theirs. I will certainly follow up when I return to Kenya at the end of June.
Saturday afternoon, Jackie came to my hotel and we went out for hot chocolate. It was so good to see her and catch up with what she has been doing. She invited Linnet and I to lunch on Sunday and cooked the things that she knows I like – chapatti, green grams (lentils), fish. I was so full when I left there! We made plans to get together at the end of June when I come back to Nairobi before flying home.
The flight to Dodoma Tanzania was uneventful. Only 3 passengers from Nairobi to Kilimanjaro and 5 from Kili to Dodoma. We go through immigration and customs in Kili. It is so strange to go through with the pilot! I was happy to arrive in my Tanzanian home, knowing that I was going to be here for the rest of the month and wouldn't have to pack up and go for quite a while.
I woke up yesterday with a sore throat. It went away during the day but came back last night. Now I have a cold and a sore throat. Have asked for some hot water and lemon as that will help my throat feel better. I'm not really sick, just inconvenienced.
No internet connection today. So really cannot start on much of anything until I can get connected to QuickBooks Online and show people around a bit. Got some of the receipts so that I can see what we are dealing with. Reviewed authorization form and payment voucher form from Uganda and decided to use something very similar here. Made the changes and took it to the printer today and should have the duplicate copy books tomorrow. Hopefully we will have internet connection too so we can get started. I'm trying to set up a local network so that I can connect to the computer that has dialup and then we'll have two computers on the internet. If that works for my laptop, it should work for the other desktop in the office. We'll see how far my network knowledge gets me!
By Anne Olson
On Saturday I met with Louise Sewe of Wege Women Group Support Organization (WWGSO) – Beyond Biological Parenthood. Wege means parenthood in Luo – the local language and the language of Barack Obama's father. She's the woman I met at a conference in California. She is doing some good work in western Kenya, building a community in the villages to support the orphans and vulnerable children. Part of WWGSO's strategy is to improve the economic status of community members through sustainable income generating activities. This is where I think that VEF and WWGSO may be able to work together. So I connected Louise with Wilson, VEF Country Director. The next steps are theirs. I will certainly follow up when I return to Kenya at the end of June.
Saturday afternoon, Jackie came to my hotel and we went out for hot chocolate. It was so good to see her and catch up with what she has been doing. She invited Linnet and I to lunch on Sunday and cooked the things that she knows I like – chapatti, green grams (lentils), fish. I was so full when I left there! We made plans to get together at the end of June when I come back to Nairobi before flying home.
The flight to Dodoma Tanzania was uneventful. Only 3 passengers from Nairobi to Kilimanjaro and 5 from Kili to Dodoma. We go through immigration and customs in Kili. It is so strange to go through with the pilot! I was happy to arrive in my Tanzanian home, knowing that I was going to be here for the rest of the month and wouldn't have to pack up and go for quite a while.
I woke up yesterday with a sore throat. It went away during the day but came back last night. Now I have a cold and a sore throat. Have asked for some hot water and lemon as that will help my throat feel better. I'm not really sick, just inconvenienced.
No internet connection today. So really cannot start on much of anything until I can get connected to QuickBooks Online and show people around a bit. Got some of the receipts so that I can see what we are dealing with. Reviewed authorization form and payment voucher form from Uganda and decided to use something very similar here. Made the changes and took it to the printer today and should have the duplicate copy books tomorrow. Hopefully we will have internet connection too so we can get started. I'm trying to set up a local network so that I can connect to the computer that has dialup and then we'll have two computers on the internet. If that works for my laptop, it should work for the other desktop in the office. We'll see how far my network knowledge gets me!
A Little bit of India...in Dar
Written on April 19, 2008 from Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania
By Max Anders
Sixteen hours in Dar es Salaam…
Julia and I had one question: Where’s the good Indian food? The seven hour smooth and pleasant bus ride from Dodoma allowed us ample time to discuss in depth our ideal meal, occasionally being distracted by the gorgeous scenery out the window. The green, now noticeably more tropical, rural landscape suddenly turned urban and like a slap to the face, we had arrived in Dar.
Through the churning city, packed with people waiting in crowds at crosswalks and markets, we remained resolute in our culinary mission. Traffic slowed things down but allowed us a more thorough scan of the sidewalks. “What about that one? That looks like it could be a good restaurant.” Trying without much success to mentally map the route from the prospective restaurant to the bus station, we grabbed our luggage from the belly of the bus and went to meet our driver, Steven.
The Tanzania country director, Richard Mazengo, had arranged our transportation around Dar with his friend Steven. We were instructed to exit the bus terminal upon arrival and wait for Steven to find us so he could help us run some errands and find a hotel. Without a picture to identify Steven, we were to confirm his name before getting into his car. Richard had warned us of opportunistic taxi drivers who might assume the identity of whomever we wanted in order to jack the price up on two clueless foreigners. Outside the station, amidst simultaneous offers of “taxi sir?” we play the “are you my driver” game. It goes a little something like this:
“Friend. Taxi?”
“No thanks, we are waiting for some one to pick us up.” (Could this be Steven?)
“Who are you waiting for?
“Ahh…I forget. What’s your name?”
“Peter.”
“No, you’re not him. Thanks.”
I think the group of helpful taxi drivers, not devious in the least, thought we were insane. But not long after we made it through interrogating all of the available taxi drivers like spies, a white taxi rolled up with a giant, smiling man inside. Exploding out the door saying, “Steven. I am Steven,” he apologized for being late and ushered us into his car.
Having completed all our necessary tasks, Steven asked us where we wanted to stay. As our flight left early the next morning, the obvious answer was close to the airport. But resolute to our objective, we replied “wherever the best restaurants are.”
And so we found ourselves waving bye to Steven and watching his taxi sputter down the bumpy alley outside our hotel in central Dar es Salaam. It had gotten dark so we rushed to check in and put our things down. Up and down four flights of creaky stairs with lumpy luggage on our backs, panting, we were ready to eat.
We stepped outside into the warm, humid night and were greeted by a lively street scene set in dim light. Realizing we had absolutely no idea where we were and not a clue where the closest Indian restaurant was, we did the most sensible thing we could think of: find a group of Indians and ask them. In broken Hindi, rusty from almost five years of disuse, I managed to learn the approximate location of a highly recommended, “first class” restaurant, Maratha.
As advised, we took a taxi to avoid dangerous neighborhoods and were dropped off in the general vicinity of Maratha. It seemed a good sign that the vast majority of businesses and people on the street were Indian. We wandered back and forth, asking people every five minutes and couldn’t help but feel like we were playing a game of “hot and cold.” Finely, after particularly detailed instructions, we found ourselves standing outside a large blue building with a sign that read: Community Badminton Center – Members only.
Hungry, confused, and totally lost, we almost gave up. In a last attempt, we peeked our heads in through the door and asked the security guard who was lounging in a white plastic chair if he knew where Maratha Restaurant was. “You are here, please come in.” His smile was welcoming, especially after we paid the $1 non member entry fee.
Not entirely sure of what was happening, we entered the small gate and walked into the large outdoor courtyard. Indian families sat around plastic tables in front of a large screen TV that played cricket and ate from silver dishes full of delicious looking food. On one side of the courtyard was a bar where older Indian men drank beer from tall skinny glasses and smoked cigarettes. On the opposite side of the courtyard a full sized indoor badminton court hosted four lunging and swatting players. The hard plastic window that separated the badminton court from the outside area allowed people to watch the surprisingly competitive action in between overs of cricket or bites of dal.
A Chuck E. Cheese style jungle gym and playground was tucked to the side of the badminton court and completed the family atmosphere. Julia and I sat in awe of our shahi paneer, our taste buds celebrating like the middle aged badminton players who just had won a point, and watched adorable Indian kids squiggle down the purple plastic slide. Later we chatted with two men from Mumbai about life in Tanzania. They told us of the vibrant Indian immigrant community in Dar as well as the friendly relations between Indians and Africans.
Our bellies full of spices - chili and cinnamon, coriander and cardamom - we sat contently and enjoyed our surroundings. Our mission had been accomplished and we were ready to return to the world of ugali with new vigor.
By Max Anders
Sixteen hours in Dar es Salaam…
Julia and I had one question: Where’s the good Indian food? The seven hour smooth and pleasant bus ride from Dodoma allowed us ample time to discuss in depth our ideal meal, occasionally being distracted by the gorgeous scenery out the window. The green, now noticeably more tropical, rural landscape suddenly turned urban and like a slap to the face, we had arrived in Dar.
Through the churning city, packed with people waiting in crowds at crosswalks and markets, we remained resolute in our culinary mission. Traffic slowed things down but allowed us a more thorough scan of the sidewalks. “What about that one? That looks like it could be a good restaurant.” Trying without much success to mentally map the route from the prospective restaurant to the bus station, we grabbed our luggage from the belly of the bus and went to meet our driver, Steven.
The Tanzania country director, Richard Mazengo, had arranged our transportation around Dar with his friend Steven. We were instructed to exit the bus terminal upon arrival and wait for Steven to find us so he could help us run some errands and find a hotel. Without a picture to identify Steven, we were to confirm his name before getting into his car. Richard had warned us of opportunistic taxi drivers who might assume the identity of whomever we wanted in order to jack the price up on two clueless foreigners. Outside the station, amidst simultaneous offers of “taxi sir?” we play the “are you my driver” game. It goes a little something like this:
“Friend. Taxi?”
“No thanks, we are waiting for some one to pick us up.” (Could this be Steven?)
“Who are you waiting for?
“Ahh…I forget. What’s your name?”
“Peter.”
“No, you’re not him. Thanks.”
I think the group of helpful taxi drivers, not devious in the least, thought we were insane. But not long after we made it through interrogating all of the available taxi drivers like spies, a white taxi rolled up with a giant, smiling man inside. Exploding out the door saying, “Steven. I am Steven,” he apologized for being late and ushered us into his car.
Having completed all our necessary tasks, Steven asked us where we wanted to stay. As our flight left early the next morning, the obvious answer was close to the airport. But resolute to our objective, we replied “wherever the best restaurants are.”
And so we found ourselves waving bye to Steven and watching his taxi sputter down the bumpy alley outside our hotel in central Dar es Salaam. It had gotten dark so we rushed to check in and put our things down. Up and down four flights of creaky stairs with lumpy luggage on our backs, panting, we were ready to eat.
We stepped outside into the warm, humid night and were greeted by a lively street scene set in dim light. Realizing we had absolutely no idea where we were and not a clue where the closest Indian restaurant was, we did the most sensible thing we could think of: find a group of Indians and ask them. In broken Hindi, rusty from almost five years of disuse, I managed to learn the approximate location of a highly recommended, “first class” restaurant, Maratha.
As advised, we took a taxi to avoid dangerous neighborhoods and were dropped off in the general vicinity of Maratha. It seemed a good sign that the vast majority of businesses and people on the street were Indian. We wandered back and forth, asking people every five minutes and couldn’t help but feel like we were playing a game of “hot and cold.” Finely, after particularly detailed instructions, we found ourselves standing outside a large blue building with a sign that read: Community Badminton Center – Members only.
Hungry, confused, and totally lost, we almost gave up. In a last attempt, we peeked our heads in through the door and asked the security guard who was lounging in a white plastic chair if he knew where Maratha Restaurant was. “You are here, please come in.” His smile was welcoming, especially after we paid the $1 non member entry fee.
Not entirely sure of what was happening, we entered the small gate and walked into the large outdoor courtyard. Indian families sat around plastic tables in front of a large screen TV that played cricket and ate from silver dishes full of delicious looking food. On one side of the courtyard was a bar where older Indian men drank beer from tall skinny glasses and smoked cigarettes. On the opposite side of the courtyard a full sized indoor badminton court hosted four lunging and swatting players. The hard plastic window that separated the badminton court from the outside area allowed people to watch the surprisingly competitive action in between overs of cricket or bites of dal.
A Chuck E. Cheese style jungle gym and playground was tucked to the side of the badminton court and completed the family atmosphere. Julia and I sat in awe of our shahi paneer, our taste buds celebrating like the middle aged badminton players who just had won a point, and watched adorable Indian kids squiggle down the purple plastic slide. Later we chatted with two men from Mumbai about life in Tanzania. They told us of the vibrant Indian immigrant community in Dar as well as the friendly relations between Indians and Africans.
Our bellies full of spices - chili and cinnamon, coriander and cardamom - we sat contently and enjoyed our surroundings. Our mission had been accomplished and we were ready to return to the world of ugali with new vigor.
Traveling to Tanzania
Written on April 11, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania
By Max AndersLeaving Kenya after only a week felt like startling from a dream; an abrupt feeling of something unfinished. Despite the excitement of exploring more of
But as soon as I got over the air sickness of the turbulent little jet and fixed my gaze on the scenery below, I began to feel better. Face glued to the small hard plastic window, I watched
We arrived in
And while I don’t feel qualified to speak on anything other than first impressions, I feel like
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