Dar es Salaam

Last week, business called us to Dar es Salaam.  Dar es Salaam is a big port city on the Indian Ocean and though it isn’t the capital of Tanzania, it is home to many government buildings and embassies.  While in Dar es Salaam we needed to get a research permit approved, pick up 90 kilos of books from the US embassy as well as get a security briefing at the embassy. 

Rising at an insanely early hour, we set off for the airport to take a plane to Dar es Salaam.  Morning blue clouds hung from stars on a scarlet dyed sunrise as we took off, leaving Africa’s highest mountain behind us. 

Dar es Salaam can be described in one word: hot.  Luckily, we found an air conditioned hotel where we could retreat from the oppressive heat and humidity.  During the first day we got the research permit approved, visited a cultural museum and went to a main shopping district. 

The second day which included a visit to the US embassy was more interesting.  The embassy was bombed eleven years ago and has been rebuilt since with increased security that seems a bit excessive. To get into the embassy, you first pass through a building with constantly locked doors that are opened by a security guard in a secure room.  Inside you are required to deposit all bags, cell phones and other electronics, show identification, get scanned and proceed though another permanently locked door. 

On the inside, the embassy is quite nice.  Walking in, you really feel like you have left Tanzania.  Ergonomically designed office chairs fill conference rooms and modern art hangs on the walls.  In Tanzania, offices are generally sparse, white walled rooms, with only perhaps a picture of a current or past president hung high up, flush with the ceiling. Walking through corridors with fake house plants and artsy black and white photographs created an illusion that the security building leading into the embassy was actually a portal to a location in Washington D.C.

Once settled into comfy office chairs, we sat back for a short security briefing.  Much was less relevant to our situation in Mweka, but it was interesting nonetheless.  Evidently there really are people whose job is to protect information.  It really makes you wonder, what kind of information they have that is so important to protect.  And it is even more interesting to wonder who they are protecting the information from.  At one point during our briefing, the presenter stopped and said, “Oh, no.  I don’t think I can tell you that.  I think it’s classified.”

After the briefing we got official ID badges and we collected our four boxes of books.  Lugging around 200 pounds of text is no easy matter, but we eventually got all of the books back to the hotel.

There isn’t a terribly lot to do in Dar es Salaam so we cut our trip short and returned to the pleasantly cool slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro a day early. 

A Presidential Visit

Last Thursday, President Kikwete, the president of Tanzania, visited the college.  Having been out of town, we arrive back on campus to find the place decked out in yellow, blue, green and black.  Red carpet was lined up for the president, a stage erected for his speech and students wandered about with little plastic flags stamped with the college emblem. 

Once again, I was able to take photos for the college as I had for graduation and the safari.  But this time I would have to fight for elbow space along with a dozen or so other photographers, cameramen and journalists.  In Tanzania, to take pictures of the president requires a press badge.  So I queued up with the others to exchange my driver’s license as collateral for a large press badge on a bright yellow lanyard.  Feeling official, I wandered off to take pictures of preparation until the president showed.

  As can be expected with diplomats, the president arrived late.  The dispersed students that had waited patiently in the morning under a warm sun came rushing back along with the rest of the population as sirens announcing the president’s arrival could be heard. 

Cameras rolled and shutters snapped as the president emerged from a black SUV.  He greeted everyone with a smile and a wave and shook some hands before disappearing into the main office building for the first part of his college tour.

The president was escorted by a number of police, ‘secret service’ and other security guards.  Though there were more security personnel than might be expected, there was still less than what you would find in the states.  Beforehand, bomb-sniffing dogs investigated the premises and guards diffused across campus.  With the arrival of the president came men wearing short-sleeve suits and ear bud radio communication devices looped over their left ears.  These men hovered around the president, keeping photographers, excited children and other patrons an arm’s length away. 

Students and faculty gave short presentations on various aspects of the college as the president listened with interest.  In the background, the brass band could be heard playing an odd mix of polka, classical, and Christmas music as they entertained a patient crowd waiting for the president to make his speech. 

After the president had listened to the student speeches and planted a tree for the college, he gave a speech of his own which was well received.  As the sun sunk behind the western trees, the president sat for a few pictures before hopping back into his awaiting car which parted the enthusiastically waving crowd.          

 

 

A Winter Solstice in the Summer

Today is the first day of winter at home, and though those seasons don’t apply down here, it is still hard to think that it is mid-December.   The countless inconstancies with the current season have me wondering what time of year it really is.  When you’ve lost your time-markers, time seems to stand still. In fact, I haven’t even registered fall yet.  I missed the state fair for the first time in years, Halloween slipped by without even a tootsie roll, and Thanksgiving was relegated to chicken soup (though it was good).

The days here are as long as ever – the sun always sets at the same time and in the same place.  It’s nice to be able to wake up with the sun and walk home before dark, but it is amazing how much constant-length days distort one’s sense of time. 

It doesn’t help that the landscape is an emerald Minnesota only experiences in the spring.  There are roses outside our front door and flowers are blooming everywhere, though the poinsettias in our front yard are on the decline.  Much to my delight, there are even dandelions blooming in our backyard.

Furthermore, there isn’t a trace of snow anywhere except up on the mountain.  Actually, I’m sitting around in shorts and a t-shirt.  We’ve been here over three months and its pretty much still looks the same (if anything, it’s greener, which just confuses my mind more).  Now we are on the verge of Christmas and I highly doubt that it will be a white one. 

No snow is just the beginning of the lack of holiday decorations.  The only Christmas tree I’ve seen was a four foot plastic tree slung over the shoulder of a sidewalk pedestrian.  There are no inflatable Santa Clauses, window decals, and worst of all, no Christmas lights.  Our festivity has only extended to the paper snowflakes in our living room. 

Though summer in the winter is confusing, I can’t say it isn’t appreciated.  I have no remorse for not having to bundle in so many layers that you are forced to waddle like a penguin, or shovel wet, heavy snow, or loose sensation in your ears and toes trekking to and from class.  Though I can’t go sledding and I miss Christmas lights, I could get used to long, sunny days. 

Send the Ark

Living on a mountain, I never would have though I would need to worry about floods. However, life has a funny way of dealing out the unexpected.

One day, coming back from the Secondary School, I thought, “A nice, refreshing shower will be nice when I get home.” Ten minutes later, hot and sweaty, I arrived home. But upon opening the door, I was welcomed not by a shower, but a bath. The entire entry was flooded with water and the damage continued on to the other rooms. A good inch of water stood in the entryway, hallway, both bedrooms and the bathroom had closer to two inches. From the outside of the house, you could see the water coming out of the bathroom outside wall.

I quickly surveyed the damage. Nothing seemed too bad – a few wet pairs of shoes and a wet laundry basket. I grabbed a broom and began the slow and difficult task of sweeping the water out of the house. The problem with water is its fluidity. When you sweep the water in one direction it has a tendency to fan out and end up where you didn’t want it. You learn to sweep fast enough to keep the water somewhat together but slow enough to be able to beat the water to the end of the hallway where you have to change it’s direction to keep get the water out of the house instead of into the kitchen.

No, it wasn’t the rains that had flooded our house, but our hot water heater. The heater, little more than a rusty tin can, had started to leak after I left in the morning and had nearly flooded the house by the time I had returned home in the afternoon.

Since that incident, we have been forced to take cold showers and keep a bucket of water under the heater to catch the drips. We have been informed that a new heater will be installed soon, but ‘soon’ on a Tanzanian timescale is tantamount to ‘eventually’. At least we will be conserving more water and energy this way.

The Dance

In memory of John Boniphace Mwakilasa

7 December 1984 –8 December 2009

Professor Cindy Johnson

I am a professor of biology. Teaching is my calling, my passion and love. It is through teaching that I am freest to express my true self. I can play. Teaching is a playful dance staged in the wonders of biology. As the student learns the steps, the dance becomes a thing of beauty. Teacher and student, both rise to new ideas, inspirations and questions. The probing is deep and the awe is profound. The dance contains elements of a spiritual quest for a deep connection to one another and to the study of life.

The dance transcends culture, language and politics. We are all dancers, swirling around in a kaleidoscope of images, colors and discovery. I am dancing in Tanzania, teaching at the College of African Wildlife Management in Mweka as a Fulbright Scholar. My students are a mix of tribal heritages, Chagga, Maasai and Meru; all are African. I am American. They take me in with my broken Kiswahili. Few can withstand the temptation of the dance and soon they are swirling enthusiastically.

In so many ways these students are a world apart from my students in the United States. Few own computers or other electronic gadgets. Almost none have earplugs and iPods dangling about. Few have pierced body parts or tattoos. Most are better dressed than American professors; ties, dress pants and skirts are the norm here. The thought of showing up in pajamas or sweat pants is unfathomable. They are courteous and frequently offer to carry my class materials to and from class. There are no textbooks and they share a few precious library books. Few have traveled outside Tanzania.

Yet, at the same time they are like students anywhere. Some are curious and motivated; others go through the motions only because it is required. An embarrassed student gropes to find the errant ringing cell phone as others look on with annoyance. They whisper to their friends, secrets that professors don’t and shouldn’t know. They linger to talk biology, ask questions or teach an impromptu lesson in Kiswahili. A question after class gathers them like moths to a light.

Like students around the world, they laugh hard and dance hard. They hang out with friends, teasing one another. They groan when assignments are long and hard. They cringe or seek high 5’s with assessment results. They struggle with concepts and rejoice when it all comes together. The excitement of discovery and new ideas motivates them and the sheer drudgery of learning discourages them. They beam with the smallest bit of attention.

I am blessed. Over the years of teaching I have come to understand my calling. Though plants are my passion, it is education and working with young adults that is my calling. I am privileged to work with the best and brightest of our youth as well as the confused and conflicted. Perhaps it is the eternal optimist in me that relishes this work with young people. They are indeed full of hope, promise and energy. It is they who see the way where no one else has succeeded. It is they who abandon reason and follow instinct. It is they who are fresh and not jaded by life. It is they who step forward laughing with a mischievous spark. It is they who embrace life, full of promise and adventure.

Yesterday one of our students died in a car accident. I knew him only for a short while, but my heart grieves for his family and friends. As an ‘elder’ I have experienced the death of friends and family; it never gets easier. The loss of this young man perched on the edge of the world ready to launch hits me especially hard. As a biologist I know that juvenile mortality is a fact of life, but as a dancer I grieve the loss of the promise, the vitality, the very essence and joy of life.

I cannot say anything about his life or whether it was lived fully. I know nothing about his family. I know nothing about his dreams. But, I do know that this young man was hopeful, expectant of life and full of promise. Seeking answers we pose questions. Why? What are the lessons here? What have we learned? Time and community will help us process this loss, but each of us must seek meaning independently. For me, I am reminded that the promise and joy of life doesn’t belong solely to young people. We must carry it throughout our lives. To do otherwise is to denigrate those who didn’t have the opportunity.

I can think of no other dance I’d rather do. I am a teacher of biology and a student of life and death. I’ve learned many new steps in this dance. It is an eternal celebration of the relationship between teacher and student, mentor and mentee, elder and youth, parent and child; a celebration of life and all that we have to learn about living and dying. To dance is to embrace life, to honor the sacred. Our time is brief, the music is sweet, let us dance.

What’s in a name?

As would be expected, names here are different than ones you might find in the United States.  I’ve compiled a short sampling of some more common and unique names of my students bellow. 

• Philbert
• Wilbard
• Baraka
• Godlove
• Mary
• Restituta
• Amani
• Goodluck
• Norberth
• Heavenlight
• John
• Novatus
• Chrispin
• Lukresia
• Frida
• Innocent
• Peter
• Khalid
• Urbani
• Emmanuel
• Happy
• Boniphace
• Benedict

Though at first, some of the names like Innocent and Goodluck may seem strange to an English-speaker, consider some the fact that many American names have meanings in other languages.  For example, my own name means ‘times’ in Swahili.

Graduation

A few weeks back, the college had its annual graduation ceremony.  Though Mweka College has the familiar schedule of a August-June school year, graduation is in the fall. 

This graduation was very similar to an American one.  The campus was decorated with green, yellow, blue and black, plastic lawn chairs were arranged in neat rows, and parents lined up to take pictures of their graduates.  There were even long speeches (though not all in English), restless children traditional and graduation robes and hats (though the Tanzanian ensemble included a coloured sash corresponding to the diploma type).

Before the ceremony began, women with plastic flower leis lined a sidewalk to sell to friends and family members of the graduates.  The leis were then presented to the graduate, sometimes with a gift, after the graduate had gotten their diploma.    

After the ceremony, more sellers lined up with freshly printed pictures of the graduates for the families to purchase.   

Pass the turkey

Consider that Thanksgiving festivities you enjoyed last week. It probably included getting together with family and friends for a big home-cooked meal, maybe some card games and parade viewing or football playing or watching.  Now what would you do if you had half of a kitchen (the half without an oven) your friends and family were thousands of miles away and the Macy’s Parade wasn’t broadcast on any of the local channels?  Why, you would improvise of course. 

What to do about that turkey dinner.  Hmmm?  We couldn’t exactly have a full-blown Thanksgiving dinner seeing as we were missing quite a few ingredients, namely a turkey.  And had we a turkey, what would we have done with it?  We had no stuffing, a limited repertoire of spices and our cooker would not even have been big enough to accommodate a small bird.  So, what to do?  Let’s see, we have some chicken.  That's a bird.  Close enough.  Don’t even think about pumpkin pie or cranberries; there’s no way that could happen.  We ended up making ourselves a lovely meal of chicken noodle soup (which was actually quite good) and peanut butter cookies.  Not exactly a feast, but it worked. 

Since I haven’t a good handle on apparation yet, spending Thanksgiving with family was out of the question.  We settled for inviting a group of students from the college over for a few games of cards.  Twelve of us crowded around our rickety dinning table sitting on a variety of chairs and foot stools.  There are only a few card games you can play with so many people but there is one suited for large groups.  Spoons.  Since our limited kitchen only had four spoons we needed to acquire more in order to play.  Luckily the students were able to scrounge up some and dutifully whipped spoons out of jackets and pants pockets on cue.  What ensued was a rather intense session of Spoons, including fervent concentration, cross-table diving, and bent cards.  The game quickly became quite competitive but was enjoyed by all. 

Though are Thanksgiving was far from traditional, it was very agreeable. 

Driving

Driving in Tanzania is an experience in itself. Despite the overall laid back manner of people in Tanzania, they drive like maniacs.

When driving in Tanzania, there are a lot of things to pay attention to. The most obvious is that to remember to stay on the left side of the road. Thanks to a brief stint of British colonialism, Tanzania is in the minority of left-sided-driving countries

Once you’ve conquered staying in the correct lane, you have to watch out for speed bumps. Speed bumps here come in many flavors and can be found around every corner. Some of them are low and wide and can be crossed at high speeds. Others are only a few inches wide but quite tall and require a creeping pace. There are even little speed bumps to warn you of upcoming bigger speed bumps. And of course none of the speed bumps are marked in anyway so you have to be on a constant lookout for weird shadows on the asphalt.

When you’re not looking for speed bumps, you have to be aware of the daladalas. The public transportation of Tanzania is the daladala. These are Scooby-doo vans with windows and are invariably crammed with passengers. They often stop to unload and pickup passengers and will pull out in front of oncoming traffic whenever they feel like it.

Luckily, there are a series of signals to indicate driver intention, though they can be a bit complex. There are light signals to say, “You can pass now” or “If you pass, we’ll both crash.” Tanzanian drivers also use the car horn frequently, though I’m not always sure why. There is is an additional cohort of signals that I have not been able to decipher so far.

Also, you have to mind the pedestrians and bicyclists. Unlike in the States, it is common for people to walk along the road. And though they won’t pull out in front of you like a daladala might, they are yet another thing to be conscious of. Bikers are more dangerous. They often have long bundles of lumber tied on the back or a big pile of grass strapped behind the seat. They also have a tendency to weave in and out of traffic making them an unpredictable variable.

It doesn’t help that traffic rules are suggestions. Speed limits are flexible. A sign may say 50km/hr but 100km/hr is close enough. And when there is no one else on the road, why not just drive down the middle? A few years ago, a stoplight was put up in Arusha. The result was not better driving, but more accidents as no one paid attention to the newly installed stoplight.

Though traffic rules hold little sway, police officers are prevalent and often pull drivers over for periodic vehicle checks. Vehicles are required to have multiple stickers and also be equipped with safety flags, and a mini fire extinguisher in case of emergency.

We have been slowly adjusting to Tanzanian driving and have not gotten into an accident (yet).