Tanzania 2009-2010

The End

2010-07-17T08:21:00.001+03:00

The thing about a story is you never find out what happens after the end. What is a happy ending anyway? Did Harry Potter have a mid-life crisis? Did Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy get a divorce? Does Odysseus ever venture back to sea? And what becomes of the ill-known, but ever vital supporting characters? Names like Samwise Gamgee and Little John become lost to our grey matter.

The thing about real life is that the stories never end; they blend together forming images that make up our past, present and future. Each new experience, each daring adventure adds a new hue for you to paint with. Sometimes you end up with colours the shade of earwax, but you may also find a hue that would be alluring to even a rainbow. Immersing yourself in a new colour causes you to reevaluate your entire palette. Maybe what is blue to you is green to someone else.

Its funny how once you return to your armchair by the stove things so easily fall back into routine. Old habits reemerge and the patterns of life flow on as if you had never left. Watching the people around you makes you wonder, where has life taken them? What colours has life given them? As you pass someone on the highway, do you ever wonder where are they going? Or have you ever looked at a family photo taken at Mt. Rushmore and wondered who those people were in the background? Our lives are surrounded by fillers, people we see everyday but don’t know. Perhaps a prolonged absence causes you to see your world more clearly than the new world you’ve discovered.

As I emerge from my own adventure, however less daring than Harry Potter’s or less dramatic than Ms. Bennet’s, I find myself with a palette of possibilities, each colour holding the secrets to a new adventure. Though the past is behind me, the colours are still there, showing who I am and providing inspiration for future murals.

I do not have any more knowledge, other than the knowledge that I know nothing. I do not have an understanding of anything, other than the fact which I understand nothing. But I do know that my eyes have been opened to the subtleties of life and just beyond the shore I can see a whole new ocean of colours waiting for my paintbrush.

Things Long Forgotten

2010-06-28T04:33:00.001+03:00

Things I forgot about…

People who cut grass with lawn mowers instead of machetes
Pumping your own gas at gas stations
The amazing-ness of washing machines
Drinking water straight out of the tap
Twilight (In Tanzania once the sun goes down it’s dark. Also, its strange going from 12 hours of daylight to 8.30 p.m. sunsets.)
Right-side-up constellations
Wazungu up the wazoo (Being surrounded by Caucasians)
People who show up on-time to events
How expensive phone plans are
Reliable water and electricity
Where things (especially food items) are stored around the house
Empty sidewalks (In Tanzania everyone walks so sidewalks (and roadsides) are always populated.)
Comfortable mattresses
Orange oranges (In Tanzania these fruits are green so now orange ones just look sickly)
White sugar (All Tanzanian sugar is off-white and large-crystaled. I rather like it.)

This Is Not the End

2010-06-18T17:49:00.000+03:00

Today is Departure Day. Today I make that plunge back in the the fast-pace, materialistic world that was once the only thing I knew. Today marks the end of my time in Tanzania but not the end of the things I am learning nor the last time I will see this land.

Though I have had my hardships, I have enjoyed my year in Tanzania. I have learned so many things being in a different culture. Traveling is a great way to learn about new people and places, but to really understand others you have to be immersed in their culture. I am by no means an expert in anything Tanzanian, but I now have a greater understanding of other people and cultures. I think the most important things I’ve learned are not things specifically about Tanzania but the things you learn when you are in a different culture: not understanding what is happening, feeling excluded, and being uncomfortable. Perhaps it would be good for all of us to experience these things once in our lifetimes. Maybe then we could understand each other better and respect all of humanity.

There are many things I love about Tanzania that I will miss: the people I’ve met, the landscapes, the sunsets, the marketplace, phone plans, the mountain and many more things. Of course there are also things that I won’t miss (being stared at, the tendency of things to break, being charged the mzungu price) but these things are generally out weighed. All in all, I’m grateful for this experience (even the bad parts).

Even though I’m traveling back to America today, this is not the end. Keep coming back for tales of re-assimilation until I tell you ‘This is the End’.

MYRT 13

2010-06-17T22:34:00.001+03:00

The traveling salesman is a ubiquitous sight in any urban area. Some carry large boards on their backs with all kinds of odd things like hair brushes and sun glasses hooked on. Others carry sombrero-shaped baskets with peanuts and cigarettes. There are even traveling salesmen selling blenders and Tupperware. I believe it would be possible to do all your shopping from your car if you were so inclined. Whether its fruit, clothing, phone credits or movies, there is someone out there willing to bring the good to you. I rather like this style of marketing goods and I will miss it.

MYRT 12

2010-06-16T16:57:00.000+03:00

There are two main types of outlets here in Tanzania, both different than those in America. The most common is the rectangular three-prong. This is the one you find everywhere. Interestingly, the outlet sticks out of the wall a few centimeters.

The Classic Outlet

The second type, the double round-prong, is less common. It is interesting to note that all outlets come with an on/off switch.

The Double Round-prong Outlet

And lastly there is this enigma outlet that I have only ever seen in our house. Its nearly like an American outlet but upside down and the matching holes go in the wrong direction. I’m not sure why we have these in our house because nothing plugs into them and they are found nowhere else. Oddly enough, this one is the most common in our house which is a mystery I haven’t figured out yet.

In addition to having different outlet shapes, Tanzania’s power is at about twice the voltage of the States.

MYRT 11

2010-06-15T13:47:00.000+03:00

Tanzania uses the metric system, which is amazing. Though in the beginning it took a while to know what 15km or 25°C really means, I have adapted to this system. I have always been fond of the metric system and I am not looking forward to dealing in inches and miles again. Honestly, why should there ever be 5280 feet in a mile? And why should anything smaller than an inch be measured in absurd fractions like ¾ or ⅞ of an inch? And someone please explain to me why the freezing point of water should be 32°F. Who comes up with this stuff? People intent on baffling young schoolchildren, I suppose. Units in base-10 and no fractions are much more logical and easier to deal with. So if you ever ask me how far it is to Timbuktu or the temperature in Dallas, Texas don’t be surprised if I give you a metric answer.

Say What?

2010-06-14T21:15:00.001+03:00

There are certain words or phrases that different groups of people say. For example, in Minnesota we are known for saying “ya, you betcha”. Here are some local Tanzanian colloquialisms that we have heard a lot this year.

“Its kind of…”
“Of course”
Somewhat
“I say!”
The word ‘boring’ meaning ‘annoying’
The word ‘saloon’ where ‘salon’ should be
The repetition of words like ‘small-small’ and ‘what-what’
“To your side”
“How do you see it?”
“Brilliant!”

Houses and Homes

2010-06-13T19:55:00.000+03:00

The typical Tanzanian house is very different from that of an average American’s. Of course, there are many different types and styles of houses here, as anywhere, but for this article I’m going to take on a tour of a stereotypical upper-middle-class Tanzanian home.

Houses are built of cinderblocks and cement and are not insulated or heated. Windows are often covered by steel bars and may or may not have screens. The typical floor-layout, which shows up over and over, is of a central hallway with rooms off to either side. A surprisingly large percentage of the rooms in Tanzania are perfectly square. Carpet is non-existent and floors are often left bare or covered in fake plastic tiling. When someone is home, doors are often left open.

If you are welcomed into a Tanzanian home, you will be first taken into the living room. Every Tanzanian living room I’ve been in has a matching couch, loveseat, and one or two chairs. These furniture sets are always matching and are usually of a pattern that reminds one of the 70s. The cushions are always overstuffed and feel more like rocks than cushions. Matching lace doilies are often spread over the backs of the chairs and couches. Coffee-tables and table-ends are also common and usually very wobbly. If the family is prospering financially, you may see televisions, DVD players and other electronics. If there is a television, it is undoubtedly on. Even if a family has friends over to talk, the TV will still be on in the corner and the Tanzanians will watch it from time to time during the conversation. Another different thing is that you can usually find a refrigerator in the living room that may contain a few drinks and other things.

Walls are often painted a pastel yellow, blue, green or off-white. Sometimes, the bottom few feet are painted a different colour. Tanzanians don’t decorate their walls with art the way Americans do. Paintings are very rare, though posters are sometimes found. If anything, there will be a picture or two of a family member. The strangest thing is that any picture that is hung on the wall is hung at the very top near the ceiling instead of at eye level.

Tanzanians don’t show off their houses by leading guests on tours of all the rooms like Americans do. Once you leave the living room, any decorations or other things immediately disappear.

The kitchen is often scarce of things. Most Tanzanians cook outside on charcoal stoves. Dinning rooms often have a sink for washing hands before a meal, a table with chairs and a cabinet with plates and silverware.

A Tanzanian bathroom is often small. It probably won’t have a sit-down toilet but only a porcelain hole in the floor. Showers are rarely separated from the rest of the bathroom and may be just a showerhead attached to one of the walls with a drain below it. More often, there will just be a drain and a bucket of water. Very rarely will you see a mirror.

Bedrooms are often plain and simple with just a bed and maybe a shelving-unit for clothes.

In many ways our house here is very un-Tanzanian. We have a shower with a tub, a sitting toilet, closets, a cooker, paintings and other things. And it’s not just what we’ve added that’s different. Even the lay-out of the house is and the fact that we have panel siding on the outside is different.

MYRT 10

2010-06-12T13:46:00.000+03:00

Not only is what people write with different here, but also what they use to write on. When I first arrived in Tanzania I found all the paper looked strange. The standard piece of paper here is slightly longer (11.69 inches) and skinnier (8.27 inches) than one you would find in the States. The other day when I picked up a piece of US standard size paper, it seemed short and fat. Notebooks are also different. You won’t find any spiral-bound notebooks, only hardcover book-style-bound ones. These, in addition to being long and skinny, are thicker than the average American notebook. ‘Exercise books’ are also common here. They are fairly thin, shorter than an American piece of paper, and bound by a staple or piece of thread through the middle.

MYRT 9

2010-06-11T16:51:00.000+03:00

In the States, pencils are the common writing utensil of any grade-schooler. Here it is pens. Tanzanians are very particular about their pens. Many teachers require that assignments and homework be done in black or blue pen (though diagrams are often required to be in pencil). This is just the opposite from the States where some teachers (especially math teachers) will tell you to write in pencil. Tanzanians are also very careful about writing in a straight line. If they are given unlined paper they immediately use a ruler or other straight-edge to scribe a vertical line on the left edge and spaced horizontal lines across the entire sheet of paper. Also, Tanzanian hand-writing is uncommonly generic. Though there are person-to-person variations, the majority of Tanzanians’ writings are all of the same ‘font’. There also seems to be many less left-hander's in Tanzania.

MYRT 8

2010-06-10T19:26:00.000+03:00

Anyone who has been around children in a particular stage of language development knows that it is important to be careful with what you say. They will likely parrot it back to you without the slightest hesitation or knowledge of what they are saying. Sometimes college students similarly catch things that professors say and parrot it back with much glee. So I was reminded with the expression ‘Okey dokey’. I rarely use this expression, but all it took was one time and it stuck. Now my students here are ‘okey dokeying’ all kinds of things. I’ve tried to convince them that only ‘nerds’ use this expression, but then I had to define the word nerd. You try to define nerd; even harder in a different culture. None of this has deterred them from responding enthusiastically ‘Okey dokey!’ with a Tanzanian accent.

Making a Difference

2010-06-09T19:49:00.000+03:00

This week we have a guest columnist with a story he would like to share with you. David Leonard Kabambo is currently a student at the College of African Wildlife Management but has previously worked extensively with children in need across Tanzania.

Nasra’s Wheel Chair

By David Leonard Kabambo

Article 23 of the Conventional on the Rights of a Child (CRC) states, “parties recognize that a mentally or physically disabled child should enjoy a full and decent life, in conditions that ensure dignity, promote self-reliance and facilitate the child’s active participation in the community.”

Every child has the right to grow up in a family environment where they are respected and have a chance to flourish. This doesn’t happen for all children.

Children, especially those with a disability, need moral support from the community and families. No one wants to be born with disability but it is not a choice we have to make. To discriminate against a child with a disability affects him/her psychologically. For those who are studying, this may cause them to drop out of school. Forms of discrimination against children with disabilities in school, continues to be a serious and pervasive social problem not just within the school but also in the community.

While I was training and learning about child protection and behavioral change at Kiberege Ward (a primary school in Tanzania), I saw a child wearing a school uniform crawling like a young baby who can’t yet walk. I was intrigued by this behavior and eager to get a chance to talk to her.

I soon got that chance. Her name is Nasra John Masanja. “I’m 11 years old, studying standard three at Kiberege Primary School. I was born with a physical disability. My leg has a problem so I can’t walk; I must crawl. My mother supports me by carrying me to and from school, but it is hard for her and sometimes she is late to pick me up. Sometimes I ask assistance from my fellow pupils to carry me home some pupils but some are mean when they see me crawling,” she told me.

After hearing her story I decided to find her mother. Majuma, her mother, explained to me, “Nasra was born at St. Francis Hospital in 1998 with a physical disability. The doctor tried to solve the problem, but failed because the bone of leg was so weak. My husband, after he saw her, complained, saying it was a bad omen and that the child would never be able help with anything at home.”

Majuma said she needed the assistance of a wheel chair in order to get Nasra to and from school. Carrying a child is hard work especially as the child grows and gains weight. While she could carry Nasra at the time, she though soon she would no longer be able to carry her daughter.

I was inspired by Nasra’s story and wanted to do something to help. I decided to help her get a wheel chair and I started to raise money. Nasra was astonished and very happy when I told her what I wanted to do. She broke into tears at the news; it was a dream comes true, from darkness into light, a sign of love, devotion and support extended by Tanzania Child and Youth Hope (a non-profit organization) to improve her life. I worked together with Tanzania Child and Youth Hope and after three months I finally had enough to purchase a wheel chair for Nasra.

When she received the wheel chair, Nasra started crying and said, “Oh My God! I wasn’t expecting in my life that one day I would have a wheel chair. I thank you and all those who contributed to getting the wheel chair. You all have such good hearts. The wheel chair will be a big help when it comes to getting around.”

I had another talk with Nasra’s mother. She was very moved by the help extended to her daughter, and wanted to say, “I’m so happy my daughter got a wheel chair. I have been experiencing such a hard time carrying her to and from school daily. Having a wheel chair will keep my daughter from being effected by as many air-borne and water-transmitted diseases that you are exposed to when you crawl. With this kind of environment, it is hard to avoid taking in dust and being contaminated with various germs. I thank Tanzania Child and Youth Hope for supporting my daughter with a wheel chair.”

I want to give another bunch of thanks to the head teacher of Signal Primary School, the place where Nasra is schooling, and to Tanzania Child and Youth Hope for extending so much help and support to Nasra. I also want to personally thank anyone who contributed money to purchase the wheel chair for Nasra, for the ‘move’ and in general, and for standing up for children’s rights.

Nasra is a one among many children living with disabilities in Tanzania. Most of the children like Nasra resemble her in their life stories and experiences. My wish is that we can work together give these children the help and support they need to live full lives. May we join hands in empowering children and make them realize their full potentials by realizing children’s rights and protect them.

Since 1991 the government has made much progress towards promoting and protecting the rights of children with disabilities. The government, in collaboration with non-governmental organizations (NGOs), have worked hard to improve the situation. However the government still has a long way to go toward fulfilling child rights. There are many children like Nasra that still need our help.

TOGETHER, WE CAN MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE FOR CHILDREN

MYRT 7

2010-06-08T19:09:00.000+03:00

One banana, two banana, red banana, black banana. So many varieties of bananas! They are cheap and are often eaten as a main meal, or as desert. You eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. They even grow in my backyard, which means I can eat them without my ecological conscious revving up over the fossil fuel used to transport them to Minnesota. They come in many sizes. My favorites are the little ones and the red ones.

MYRT 6

2010-06-07T19:06:00.000+03:00

Coming from Minnesota where the land is frozen most of the year and the growing season short, having fresh fruit and vegetables is a treat that comes only for a few months each year. Here in Tanzania, fresh fruit and veggies are always in stock. Depending on the season you can get fresh plums, watermelon, pineapple, oranges, avocadoes, grapes, passion fruit and more. In addition to the seasonal fruits, other things like cucumbers, tomatoes, greens and bananas can always be bought fresh at the market. These foods aren’t just fresh, they are delicious too. Luckily, we are returning to the States in time for the first early-season harvests. However, going back to fruit shipped thousands of miles next fall will be a hard switch.

MYRT 5

2010-06-05T19:03:00.001+03:00

Cufflinks, those little fasteners that men wear to close their dress shirt cuffs. Maybe I’ve hung around the wrong crowds or just haven’t been observant, but in the US these nifty little ‘do-dads’ seem to have gone out of fashion. Does anyone still use them in the States? Here on the other hand they are ubiquitous! They add that extra touch to a suit that imparts a personalized, distinguished, stylish and even regal look.

Likewise dresses for women are much more common here than in the US. In the US professional attire for women is largely skirts or slacks and dresses are generally reserved for weddings or more formal affairs. Here women wear dresses and skirts and rarely slacks. The dresses and skirts are usually hand made out of beautiful African print fabrics that are color coordinated and often embroidered. Most are individually tailor-made and so fit perfectly. The end results are unique, stylish and very attractive.

MYRT 4

2010-06-02T20:32:00.001+03:00

There is no such thing as a bad sunset in Tanzania. No matter the conditions, there will always be an amazing sunset. In the evenings, before the sun disappears, the light is so wonderfully golden in a way no other country can imagine. The landscape is bathed in rich colours of mahogany, saffron and purple slate. The sky ranges from vivid red to pastel purple to the deep blue-black of night. Even on cloudy days the sun breaks through at the last moments to provide a beautiful show against the carnival-coloured clouds. The sunsets happen quickly but every moment is worth catching. We used to be amazed by the pinks and oranges but now we simply take these sights for granted.

MYRT 3

2010-05-31T11:43:00.000+03:00

Most processed good found in Tanzania are produced out-of-country. Almost anything that comes in a jar, bottle, box or can has writing both in English and Arabic. In the beginning this was always intriguing. It wasn’t every day that you saw a can of tomato paste with Arabic lettering. But now it is something that we are much used to. Even my phone can write in Arabic! Perhaps now when I go home it will be strange that nothing has Arabic writing.

A can of Pepsi complete with Arabic writing

Attachment

2010-05-30T21:57:00.000+03:00

Attachment

By Cindy Johnson

For several years, I have escorted undergraduate students to Africa for a class I teach on the conservation biology of Tanzania. This is a wildlife safari complete with elephants, lions and zebra as well as traditional bushman who still hunt and gather wild foods. During the safari, I am confident that each student will experience some changes in the way they view the world. They all leave the US with anticipation of seeing elephants, lions, cheetah, monkeys and giraffes. They return with these memories; not at all disappointed. However they also come away from the journey with ideas they didn’t expect, big life questions and touching memories of Tanzanians.

Safari campfire discussions about Tanzanian lifestyles and standards allow students to reflect on their own lifestyle and standard of living. Students begin to probe deeper and question issues of sustainability, ethics and questions such as “What does it take to be happy in life?” “Does material wealth mean happiness?” Most of the students arrive home with serious questions about their need for material goods. Images of impoverished but happy Tanzanians complicate their reentry into the US. So if Tanzanians can be happy with so little, what is wrong with Americans, who can’t seem to find happiness despite all the material wealth? Though not evaluated or graded, this clearly is one of the most important lessons learned on the trip.

Over the years I have wondered myself about Tanzanians. Are they truly happier? Do they know something Americans and others don’t know? It has always seemed trite to me to say that Tanzanians are content with what they have. Though this may be true, it implies that they don’t want more material wealth. Perhaps they do want more. Is there a difference in world views that enable Tanzanians to be happier than Americans?

It wasn’t until residing in Tanzania for several months that a confluence of events allowed me to recognize some of the differences. It all came together, innocently enough, on a day that I had set out with a Tanzanian friend to day hike up the slopes of Kilimanjaro. I was excited to see the forest, challenge my muscles and enjoy the company of my friend. We had packed our lunches, driven to the park entrance and I anticipated a glorious day on the mountain. My anticipation and expectation quickly turned to disappointment and anger when we learned that we couldn’t hike that day.

I was unwilling to let go of my disappointment and anger. I had become attached to the outcome of hiking up the mountain and could not easily let it go. In the States, generally plans go in accordance with the preparation and I had prepared. The injustice of not being able to do what I wanted to do was unsettling. My friend on the other hand, though disappointed, was able to shrug his shoulders and offer another plan. He was not attached to an outcome in the way I had been.

As we adjusted our plans and drove to our new destination I reflected on why I couldn’t let it go. I come from a culture where one can plan and anticipate outcomes. I realized how keenly attached to the outcome of hiking I had been. My friend comes from a culture where things change constantly; he was not attached to the outcome. I couldn’t easily detach myself from an outcome. My friend shifted easily and almost instantly. I was unhappy while he was quite content. I wondered as we drove, what was wrong with me, why couldn’t I make this transition as easily as he had. Maybe Tanzanians are simply happier people.

This is a culture in which change and unpredictability are certainties. Even rules and regulations are trumped by reality in whatever form it takes. Though Tanzanians can anticipate an outcome they do not become attached to it due to the likelihood that it may never happen. As I pondered this, many things suddenly made sense. In the States we can plan. We have rules and regulations that allow us to achieve what we set out to achieve. We have support systems that function efficiently.

This is not the case in Tanzania. One can plan here, but things may or may not happen in the way you anticipate. Allow me to illustrate the difference with a simple example. In the States when students plan to go to college, they get the necessary loans and with the help of clearly stated loan regulations they can plan to attend college for four years. Sometimes if the loan paperwork wasn’t processed properly there may be problems, but for the most part it is a smooth, predictable and relatively easy process. A Tanzanian student on the other hand faces more uncertainties in acquiring a loan for college.

Just as in the US the process is govern by regulations and tedious procedures. However, unlike the US, in Tanzania, even the successful applicant is not guaranteed the anticipated outcome of completing a degree. Recently I read in the paper that there isn’t enough money for student loans. In Tanzania the government issues the loans and pays the institutions directly. So if the government doesn’t have money, it doesn’t matter if the student is entitled to a loan. With no incoming government money the universities and colleges hold the students “hostage”. They are not allowed to take final exams unless they are financially solvent with the college. So an entire semester can be lost in the end. Or as happened to other students, the government simply neglected to process the paperwork in a timely fashion and final exams were jeopardized.

My sensibilities cry, ‘Injustice!’ because I am American and consequently largely entitled. My Tanzanian friends, though angry and discouraged expect these uncertainties and are much quicker to accept the outcome. They do not dwell on it, for dwelling on these uncertainties would certainly lead to an unhappy life. Instead they accept it in stride. It is important to note, that they don’t necessarily like the outcome. They too are angry and discouraged, but it takes them much less time to accept and move on.

The lesson for me is clear. We can’t control outcomes and remaining attached to a particular outcome only leads to unhappiness. So is this the secret? Is this why Tanzanians are happier? Perhaps. It seems to me a more likely answer than believing that Tanzanians aren’t interested in having material things. Students here, like students in the US, covet fancy computers, cameras and iPods. We all posses the desire to have more, do better and achieve, but we don’t all have the resiliency, nor acceptance for unpleasant outcomes.

Though perhaps all humans desire to have more material wealth it is not an expectation to which they are attached as it can be in the US. For Tanzanians the desire to achieve (tasks or wealth) is strong, but uncertainties restrict attachment to these achievements / outcomes.

Though this may not explain why Tanzanians seem happier, I know there is a lesson here for me. Happiness resides in an ability to let go and to not form attachment to outcomes. I am not entitled to any specific outcomes and the sooner I let this notion go, the happier I will be. Once I was able to let the mountain hike go, we had a wonderful day of birding with the added bonus of swimming in a lovely tropical springs surrounded by luxuriant figs and palms.

In my musings that day I also realized that easy acceptance of outcomes explained yet another trait I had observed. Tanzanian students appear to settle for outcomes almost too easily. Extending these thoughts a bit further helped me see that the extreme of acceptance is acquiescence. Tanzania students are not acquiescent; nor are they militant about fighting for their rights. There are times when being attached to outcomes and persisting is important. The wisdom is in knowing when to let go and when to persist.

The truly happy people are those who have achieved a balance; people who have learned when to let go and when to persist. Perhaps material wealth isn’t one of those important things.

MYRT 2

2010-05-27T21:38:00.001+03:00

Tea. Or chai. Tanzanians love their tea time. Everyday in the late morning a special time is reserved for tea break. When tea time comes everyone stops what they are doing and faithfully observes the break. The tea is always the same but very good. The black tea is served with milk and so incredibly hot that I always wonder how the Tanzanians can drink it straight away. (I have come to the conclusion that their tongues are some how genetically equipped so as to be impervious to hot temperatures.)

As well as a love for tea, Tanzanians have a very fond appreciation of sugar. Very fond. After a Tanzanian receives his/her steaming cup of tea they will immediately add three or four or more heaping spoonfuls of sugar. Whenever I observe this, the first thing that always comes to mind is ‘saturated solution’. I’m not sure if Tanzanians are aware of this, but there is a limit as to how much sugar can be dissolved in one cup of tea. If you take a modest amount to sugar, say two spoonfuls, you will get a strange look that translates into something like ‘crazy American’. The strange part is that most Tanzanians don’t like sweet things. They don’t crave desserts or eat candy like Americans but they add enormous quantities of sugar to their tea. I’m not sure I understand that one.

Tea is often taken with a small food bit such as chapati (a flat bread) or maandazi (think doughnut minus the frosting).

I have become much attached to the concept of tea time. First, I like the idea of a second breakfast (though for most Tanzanians it is their breakfast). Second, it provides a nice break in work. And third, there is the social component that draws people together. For these reasons, I think a tea movement should be started in America to instate a tea time in our daily lives. I have gotten used to tea time and I don’t want to see it end.

MYRT 1

2010-05-26T14:14:00.000+03:00

Today we start with the Mundane Yet Remarkable Thing number one. This happens to be livestock. A very mundanely remarkable thing. What is so remarkable about livestock, you ask? Well, first think about livestock in America. What is most likely to come to mind is the classic black-and-white Bessy placidly chewing cud in a serene green pasture surrounded by a white-picket fence. In Tanzania, there are very few of these kinds of cows. Instead the predominant breed here is what I like to call the camel-cow. These cows have humps on their upper backs that remind me of camels. There are also a fair number of long-horns in some areas of Tanzania.

The Camel-Cow

Another common livestock in the States is chicken. But here they wander around in peoples’ backyards instead of being confined to mass cages on industrial farms. In the beginning we remarked on the frequency with which we saw these birds (they seem to show up everywhere, from ditches to restaurants to buses), but now this has become commonplace. Oh, and roosters don’t just crow at sunrise. They do it whenever they feel like it.

The two other common livestock are goats and sheep. These often graze the roadside ditches with cows. This is the second remarkable thing that has become commonplace. Livestock here are not restricted to pastures but graze wherever fodder is available which is often on roadsides. Drive along any road and you’ll eventually see livestock busily munching roadside greens or plodding leisurely across the road. (Naturally, the more of a hurry you’re in, the more leisurely the livestock plod.) Initially we were intrigued by the herds crossing the roads followed by their herder but these days we hardly notice.

Mundane Yet Remarkable Things (MYRT)

2010-05-25T14:14:00.000+03:00

As departure looms with less than a month less, I will be using the rest of the days to reflect on my time here. Over the next three weeks I will be writing short commentaries on things that were once strange, unusual, or fascinating and are no longer out of the ordinary. These are the every-day things that truly define a culture – how people act, how they talk, how the environment looks and more. These are the things once seemed exotic and intriguing but now are commonplace. I aim at posting one commentary each day or at least every other day so take a moment from you coffee break and keep updated.

Bartering 101

2010-05-24T21:22:00.001+03:00

In American culture the word shopping conjures up images of gossiping teenage girls clutching designer purses, and soccer moms pushing overflowing grocery carts through the isles of Cub-Foods with Junior sitting up front, screaming for a box of Coco-Puffs. In Tanzania, shopping is done a little differently. Sure, girls here, as all over the world, like buying the latest fashions and you can find mothers in any country purchasing food for the dinner table. It’s the way shopping is done wherein the difference lies.

Many Americans like buying in bulk and keep enough food stashed in the cupboards to last a nuclear disaster. Refrigeration and stores like Sam’s Club make this possible. When you don’t have reliable electricity, or no fridge at all, you are less inclined to buy in bulk. People here more often buy as needed. You see people in the supermarket buying just a few items - a loaf of bread, a bag of sugar.

In the States, when you buy something, the price is always greater than you initially think it will be because of taxes. Here, the price is always lower than the initial value because of bartering. This fact of life has refreshing and I think switching back to paying full price for vegetables in the State will not be a favorable transition.

Learning to bargain is not an element of most young American’s education. The only time this skill is used is at summer garage sales, a relatively low percentage of the average shopper’s expenditures. So naturally, when I first arrived on this wonderful continent I was naïve bargainer. However, I was a quick study and I can now confidently navigate my way around any marketplace. This isn’t to say it was an easy subject to master.

The most important part to bartering is knowing the true value of the good you want to purchase. This is very difficult when you are unfamiliar with the prices of the goods. You may know the average price of a gallon of milk or bag of potato chips in your state, but do you know the prices of these goods in Russia? Probably not. So when you first arrive you are very susceptible to anchoring (the belief that the first price mentioned is the closest to reality).

This problem is further exacerbated by the colour of my skin. Much as many Americans stereotype Africans as being tall, Africans think all Americans and Europeans are rich. Consequentially, the moment a mzungu (white person) walks into a market, the prices increase twofold or more.

Upon entering a market, a food market for instance, the first thing you see are the stacks of carrots, pyramids of tomatoes, and other arrangements of fruits and vegetables, the old umbrellas protecting the goods from the sun and the seller, usually a woman, sitting behind her foodstuffs. The first thing you hear is “Hallo, rafiki!” (Rafiki means friend in Swahili.) Each vendor vies for your attention hoping to get the gullible mzungu to pay inflated prices. If you stop to inspect their wares, they will say, “Good price for you, rafiki!” which really means ‘double price’ as any price you are given is nowhere near the real price that would be asked of any native Tanzanian. Even location within the market can affect price. On the edges of the market, where most Caucasian tourists buy food, the prices are even higher than those at the heart of the market where fewer mzungus wander.

This prejudice pervades the culture and becomes irritating when you are continually asked to pay twice or thrice market value. It is true that many visitors to Tanzania are rich Caucasians going on safari, but this is a poor representation of the American or European pocketbook. There are also volunteers who are living off only a small stipend. I even know some Tanzanians who are richer in their own country than my family is in the States.

Even knowing the real price does not guarantee you a fair transaction. Once you are given the initial price you may ask for half that knowing the seller has given you the mzungu price. But the seller will want to haggle more and you may still end up paying too much. It takes tricks like feigning disinterest, pointing out the poor quality of the product, and walking away to get a price worth paying. This process takes time and having to repeat the procedure becomes tiresome. However, arriving home with a fair deal is quite satisfying.

Things I Have Learned

2010-05-17T20:37:00.002+03:00

My year in Tanzania has taught me many things. Here is a list of some of those things.

How to barter in the market
The basics of Swahili
How to teach
How to shower in water just above absolute zero
The rules of tennis
To cook local fare
To tolerate internet that moves slower than continental plates
To adjust to being watched by everyone within eyeshot
To identify Tanzanian birds
Patience
A new culture
How to play badminton
To use local public transportation
To dance
Fix a flat tire
Do laundry without a washing machine
Function without electricity
Function without water
De-slug a kitchen (to remove giant slugs from kitchen countertops)
To eat new foods like passion fruit, ugali and coconuts
To write on blackboads

Yes, Teacher

2010-05-10T17:51:00.000+03:00

Now that you know a little more about schooling in Tanzania, I can tell you more about my adventures as a teacher. This year, before arriving in Tanzania, I thought perhaps I could volunteer at a school and help tutor or do other things. What I never expected was that I would become a teacher.

Needless to say, when I was offered a position as a teacher I was shocked. In the States, being a teacher requires taking many classes, student-teaching and passing exams. I have just finished high school (only a few years ahead of some of my students) and the closest I’ve ever been to teaching is class presentations. I am more than confidant that this makes me far less than qualified. That said, I am probably a more normal teacher here than I would be in the States. The profession of teaching in Tanzania is, for most, a fallback job. For many of them it is a capital-raising stop to gather enough funds to continue their education at university so they can get the job they really want. Many teachers here were never interested in teaching and are only teachers for the money (though being a teacher here doesn’t pay well either). I find this point shocking when I think about it because teaching is a profession that truly requires passion. A good teacher is one who loves his/her job, not one who is just in it for the money.

And so I became teacher of Information and Computer Studies. In my first week I acquired a syllabus. For many of the topics I was to teach, I was either unfamiliar with or totally unaware of the material. Only after some serious research was I able to acquaint myself with what I was to teach.

I have found many challenges in my new profession. The most obvious is that I’ve had no experience teaching. This problem is magnified when you are teaching in a different country. Within your own school system you know how things work. You know the level of material students are taught at various levels, you know how the marking scheme is laid out, you know how things are done. Here I’ve had to figure out what my students knew before I could start.

I’ve been teaching Forms I and II which are the Tanzanian equivalent of 8th and 9th graders. Though you might assume that because there are so many students in a classroom that they are ill-behaved. On the contrary, Tanzanian students are actually much better than American students. When a teacher enters the classroom, all of the students rise and say “Good morning/afternoon, teacher” which is then returned by the teacher. All of the students stand until the teacher tells them to sit and then class can begin. If a student is called upon, he/she will stand before answering. Questions addressed to the class will be answered in a chorus “Yes, teacher”. Students are taught to respect teachers from the start the way we are taught to eat with our mouths closed.

This respect seems like a great system until you learn how it is enforced. In Tanzania, punishment is legal and widespread. Students who misbehave are paddled or caned. In one instance, I was sitting in the teacher lounge before class when another teacher brought in three boys. He first caned their hands three times each and then set them hopping out the door and back to their classroom like frogs. Just as common, and probably even more effective, is humiliation as a form of punishment. When the other teachers find out I don’t believe in these types of punishment, they ask, “Then how do you keep them under control?” To them, this is the only way they know.

The students seem to like having a mzungu (white person) teacher, though they probably have a harder time understanding me. My American English with a non-Tanzanian accent has on several occasions confused them. But I find that as long as I speak slowly, repeat myself and write on the blackboard they seem to understand. Or at least they say they do.

Unlike in the States where children grow up around computers, many students here have never even touched a computer. So teaching computers requires starting with the basics of turning on the computer and how to use a mouse. Now teaching computers, once you know where to start, isn’t an altogether difficult task. But teaching computers without electricity on the other hand, can be rather challenging. Two lessons plans per class period are required – one for electricity and one without. And even more challenging than no power is variable power because you never know which version to teach, practical or theoretical.

Even on a good day, one with reliable power, teaching computers can be difficult. When you have a class of 60+ students and less than 30 working computers, things can be a bit crowded. Though my school is lucky enough to have computers, all of them are old and a few of them are nonfunctional. Students have to share machines, often three to one computer, which means each task takes three times as long because every student needs to do the exercise in rotation.

Assigning homework can be just as difficult at teaching without electricity. Students here don’t have textbooks for most of their classes (and if they do they share), the library is small, and of course they can’t just hop on the internet to look things up. Consequently, this means think of out-of-class-work becomes a creative exercise. And grading that homework is no easy task when you have over 60 per class essays to mark.

Through grading of homework and exams, observation, and other ways I have noted that Tanzanians excel in rote memorization but are challenged by creative thinking. Students here can memorize formulas, definitions and lists and hold on to that knowledge for long periods of time but problem solving is not taught. Though some school-knowledge is valuable in daily life, the most important things you learn in school are not the facts, but what to do with those facts. If I could leave my students with only one lesson it would be the importance of thinking creatively is.

Though it has been difficult at times, I am glad to have had this opportunity as a teacher. I have learned many things about teaching and probably just as many about being a student.

2 + 2 = 4

2010-05-03T17:50:00.001+03:00

This year I have been teaching in a Tanzanian school. It has been interesting to see how things differ between schooling here and in the States. Here is a look at some of the things I’ve noticed.

In Tanzania school years are arranged a bit differently. You start out at age seven with primary schooling which consists of seven years, called Standards. These first seven years are mandatory. After that, if you wish, you progress to a secondary school for four more years. At this level grades are known as forms and are not required by the government. And when you’ve completed Form IV, if you have passed your exams you can continue with Forms V and VI. In these two forms you choose a ‘career-track’ which formulates three major class focuses. For example, if you wanted to be a doctor you would take the PCB track in which you focus on physics, chemistry and biology. Once you’ve graduated from that, you are able to go to college or university, which an increasing number of students are doing.

Unlike in the States, schooling here is not free. Tuition, books, stationary and uniforms all incur costs that, only some of which is covered by the government. Unfortunately, this means that some families don’t have enough capital to send all their children through school.

Another difference is dress. All Tanzanian school have strict dress codes and students wear school uniforms. Depending on the school colours, the uniform is usually wine-red or navy-blue (though any colour is possible) slacks for boys and skirts for girls with a white shirt or blouse. Shoes are traditionally black Dockers which are meticulously buffed to the teachers’ standards.

School systems in Tanzania aren’t standardized as they are in the States. Many public schools are gender segregated and there are also many more private schools here. Most Tanzanian schoolchildren board at their schools. This is partly due to the fact that many children are sent half way across the country to a school. This happens because the closest good school may be that far away, the child wants more independence, or for other reasons. Some families even choose to send their children out of country.

Unlike in the States, here you don’t get to choose your classes until Form VI. Until then you take the same classes with all your classmates for all four years of secondary school. For example, at my school those classes would be, Physics, Biology, Kiswahili, English, Computer Studies, Bible Knowledge, Geography, Civics, Commerce, Book-Keeping, Chemistry, and Basic Mathematics. Class schedules are arranged in typical American university fashion, with certain classes on different days.

Due to the lack of teaching staff and budget, classes are crowded and often have over 60 students per room. Your typical classroom has one old pitted chalkboard at the front, bared windows, and rows of wooden desks and benches crowded with students.

Tanzanians recognize English as an important international language and as so, English is taught from primary school and upon reaching secondary school, all classes are taught in English. Of course having been a former British colony, Tanzanian teaches proper British English. I particularly love this point of being taught in a second language, though it can be incredibly difficult, because it helps fluency so much. I wish my schooling could have been done in such a manner.

As for similarities, Tanzanian schools, like those in the States, have many standardized tests. To graduate from Form IV, you must pass standardized exams in all subjects that, I would say, are more rigorous than their American equivalents.

Another big difference is out-of-class work. There are no janitors or custodians here. It is the students that are required to keep the school clean and in order. Additionally some schools have shamba or farms on which the students plant, weed and harvest maize and other crops.

PT in TZ

2010-04-22T20:15:00.001+03:00

Public transportation is very different here in Tanzania compared to the United States. In my rural mid-west hometown, we only have two forms of public transportation. We have a transit bus system which only works in-town and very few people use it. And we have school buses which are used exclusively by, you guessed it, school children. Needless to say, neither of these services are very inclusive.

As you look across America, there are some places with better transportation means, but the overall picture is quite grim. There are subways underneath New York City, taxis in Washington D.C., trolleys in San Francisco and Greyhound buses that run in between but in smaller cities, it is hard to get around unless you have your own means of transportation. Americans like to be independent, and in terms of transportation they certainly are.

In Tanzania, things are just the opposite. Few citizens own their own cars and most take public transportation. The most common type of transportation is known as the daladala. These mini busses shuttle passengers to every possible location. Often painted with nonsensical slogans they are always packed with people. Tanzanian’s don’t have a culture of ‘personal bubbles’ as Americans do and have no qualms about packing fifteen or more people in a vehicle only slightly larger than a minivan. And when there isn’t enough room, people hang on from outside as the daladala zooms down the road. Often pile of bananas, chickens in cages or colorful empty buckets are strapped to the top and back of the vehicle making for a precarious load.

The next step up in transportation are buses. These buses are like many buses you might find in any major American metropolis but a few decades older. In fact, these buses, and many other vehicles for that matter, are imported from Japan, with Japanese writing still intact. These buses are used within major cities, like Dar es Salaam, and between large cities (for example, between Moshi and Arusha). Like daladalas these become packed with civilians, especially at key rush-hour times.

Going up the transportation ladder we reach coach buses. In Tanzania, there are a wide range of coach buses from luxury to economy. At the top end, you can find buses with air conditioning and music videos. At the other end you find hot, noisy dusty coach buses which just get the job done. Most of these buses travel at high speeds, barely braking for speed bumps. Many are not aligned properly which causes somewhat alarming sights of large buses cruising down the road diagonally. These buses sit five across with occasional passengers standing in the aisle between stops. Additional passengers include squawking chickens who can be particularly noisy when frightened. When traveling down dirt roads, things can get a bit dirty. Due to tight quarters windows need to be opened to let in a breeze. Of course when the bus slows, the cloud of fine red dust catches up the vehicle coating everything in a grimy layer of red. Additionally, pot-holed roads and incautious drivers create an alarmingly bumpy ride which often involves being entirely dislodged from your seat. As may be imagined, coach buses are used for long distance travel.

Additionally, Tanzania has a few rail-lines that operate primarily in southern Tanzania and provide transportation to areas that would otherwise only be reachable by air.

If you are interested in private public transportation there are a few options. Taxis are common and useful for late nights when daladalas are done for the day. They are much like American taxis but are white instead of yellow and price is negotiated before departure. Option number two is bajaji which is a small, open-sided, three-wheeled motor car which can accommodate two passengers and a driver. These, though bumpy, are cheaper and more scenic. And lastly, you can hire a motorcycle to transport you a short distance.

All of these options are efficient and inexpensive. Though you may have to wait a long time for a daladala, in the end it is more cost-effective. Because of the well designed system in place, public transportation here makes it possible to reach any destination at a reasonable rate.

Fact Check That (Part 2 of 2)

2010-04-14T21:04:00.000+03:00

Welcome back to part two of Getting to Know Tanzania Through Facts and Figures. This week we continue with facts and figures about the economy of Tanzania.

Despite it’s natural beauty, Tanzania is in the bottom 10% of the world’s economies. Tanzania’s GDP, in terms of purchasing power (what goods in Tanzania would cost in the USA), is a trivial $57.5 billion in comparison to the United States’ $14.26 trillion. (At the official exchange rate (Tanzania’s GDP converted to US dollars), Tanzania’s GDP is only $22.16 billion.) Per capita, this is $1,400 (201st*). Per capita GDP in the States is $46,000 (11th). The percentage of the population below the poverty line in Tanzania is 36%. There is nothing surprising about this figure. The percentage of the population below the poverty line in the United States is 12%. I find this rather astounding. How is it the country with the world’s largest and most powerful economy find itself with 36,865,454 people living in poverty? Tanzania only has 14,777,471 people living below the poverty line. The US has almost two and a half times the amount of people living in poverty that Tanzania does but over 600 times the GDP. Now it is worth considering what is meant by poverty line. This metaphorical line is based on many figures and varies considerably country-to-country. This means what qualifies as poverty in one country may not qualify in another. Thus is should be noted that poverty in the US is very different from poverty in Tanzania where poverty means living on a dollar a day.

Tanzania’s economy is primarily agriculture, with 40% of the GDP comprised of agricultural activities. This is rather amazing given that only 4.23% of the land is arable. (18.01% of the United States is suitable for farming). Additionally, 80% of the labour force works in agriculture and 85% of exports are agricultural goods. Things grown for mass-market in Tanzania include: coffee, sisal, tea, cotton, cashew nuts, tobacco, cloves, corn, wheat, cassava, and bananas. Tanzania exports $2.744 billion in gold, coffee and cashew nuts, manufactured goods and cotton to mainly India, Japan, and China.

In terms of public debt, Tanzania owes 24.8% of it’s GDP. Externally, it owes $7.07 billion dollars. These figures are pennies compared to the debts of America. In public debt, the United States owes 52.9% of it’s GDP. This, of course, doesn’t include state and inter-governmental debt. If it did, add another 30% of the GDP. In external debt, the United States owes $13.45 trillion. That make us #1 in terms of debt. Congratulations us.

Tanzania consumes 32,000bbl/day of oil (112th), all of which is imported. The United States, as the number one consumer of oil, uses 19.5 million bbl/day, of which only 8.514 million bbl/day is produced internally. In 2008, Tanzania consumed 560.7 million cu m of natural gas (93rd) whereas the US consumed 657.2 billion cu m(1st). Given these figures, it should come as no surprise that the United States is the largest emitter of carbon dioxide on the planet. Congratulations again.

Tanzania has a striking number of cell phone lines: 14.723 million. This figure becomes clearer when you know that many Tanzanians have two or even three different phone lines with different companies. A more reasonable number is the 179,849 main lines Tanzania posses. For comparison, the US has 270 million cell phone lines and 150 million land lines.

Americans love their televisions. The fact that as of 2006, there were 2,218 different TV broadcasting stations proves this. Tanzania, on the other hand, has just 3. The US is also home to 231 million internet users while Tanzania has just 520,000 though this figure is rising.

Ask any Tanzanian and one thing they’ll say about the country is the poor infrastructure. And indeed, it hasn’t quite the development as the United States. Of the 78,891 km of roads in Tanzania, 72,083 of them are unpaved. (The United States has more miles of roads than any other country coming in with 6,465,799 km.) Tanzania also has 125 airports,of which only 9 are paved. (Again the US has more airports than any other nation with 15,095.)

Another thing Tanzanians will say about their country is it’s history of non-violence. Tanzanians proud themselves on their passive nature. Tanzania spends only .2% of its GDP on military (170th of 173). The US throws 4.06% of its GDP ($578,956,000,000) to its military. Though the US rank appears lower, 28th world-wide, it is the highest among western nations and the countries ahead of it include: Oman, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Jordan, and Israel among others. (Iceland comes in last at 0.00%. I guess there isn’t a lot of desire for invading frozen islands in the middle of the North Atlantic.) Additionally, Tanzania has taken in more refugees than any other African nation (480,613) mostly from Burundi and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Comparatively the United States accepted 100,159 refugees from around the world in 2004-2005.

Though the USA may have better infrastructure and a longer life expectancy, this does not mean that it is a better place to live. The United States is shackled with debt and produces an outrageous amount of green house gases.

Hopefully these statistics help give you a better picture of Tanzania and where it stands in the world.

* Disassociated numbers in parenthesis indicate rank among the world

Note: All facts and figures compliments of the CIA World Factbook and the math is brought to you by my handy Casio calculator.

Fact Check This (Part 1 of 2)

2010-04-07T19:22:00.000+03:00

Recently, I realized that though I have given much commentary on Tanzania’s culture and landscape, I have supplied very few real facts. This series will come in two parts, the first concerning social facts and the second, economics. So here is a little commentary, and a lot of facts.

On the 9th of December, 1961, Tanganyika gained independence from British rule. A few years later, the island of Zanzibar gained similar independence and joined with the mainland to form the United Republic of Tanzania on 26th April, 1964. Hence the name, Tanzania.

The country of Tanzania is the world’s 31st largest with a total size of 947,300 sq km, roughly two Californias. In comparison the USA is the 3rd largest nation with 9,826,675 sq km (3/10 the size of the African continent). Tanzania is bordered by 8 countries and 1424 km of the Indian Ocean. The country is home to many of the ‘continent’s greatest’ including highest mountain (Mt. Kilimanjaro at 5895 m), and the three of the largest lakes (Victoria, Tanganyika and Nyasa). Additionally, Lake Victoria is the world’s second largest freshwater lake, and Lake Tanganyika is the world’s second deepest. Tanzania is also home to part of the Great Rift Valley, Ngorongoro caldera and a plethora of unique flora and fauna.

Lake Victoria

The population of this African nation comes in at 41,048,532 (30th*), much below the USA which weighs in at 307,212,123. This is only where the difference in population begin. The median age in Tanzania is 18; in the United States it is 36.7. The population over 65 consists of a mere 2.9% in Tanzania versus 12.8% in the US. This statistic is more dramatic when seen from a different angle. The average life expectancy for a Tanzanian is 52.01 years (206th of 224), 26.1 years less than the average American life expectancy. It’s a little better for women who get an expected 53.51 years but it’s still much less than the American woman who gets 80.69 years. Though we complain much about the costs and hassles of health care in the States, we really are getting a good deal. That said, there are still 48 countries with better life expectancies than the United States. (If you want to live long, move to Macau, Andorra or Japan.) Infant mortality in Tanzania is 69.28/1000 live births (25th) – over ten times the rate in the US! Like many developing nations, Tanzania’s urban population is on the rise. 25% of the population already lives in cities (compared with 82% in America) and that number is increasing at a rate of 4.2%. The population as a whole is increasing at a rate of 2.04% (55th).

Tanzania, like all of Africa, is facing a HIV/AIDS crisis. There are 1.4 million (6th) people living with HIV/AIDS in Tanzania alone. There are 1.2 million infected in the States, but compared with population size, this is a much smaller fraction (6.2% for Tanzania versus 0.6% in the States). Tanzania is also seventh in terms of HIV/AIDS deaths with 96,000 in 2007.

Tanzanian education, as you may imagine, is lagging. Literacy is at 69.4% (girls comprising 62.2% and boys 77.5%). Part of this may be explained by examining education expenditures. Tanzania spends 2.2% of it’s GDP on education (164th). In comparison the US spends a little more at 5.3% (57th). What do these figures translate into? With a little math you find that Tanzania spends $27.61 on each student. This figure is an estimate because because it is based on the population below 14 and not all children below 14 go to school and many children above 14 go to school. Nevertheless it is in the ballpark. The math for the United States works out at $12,200.86 per student but this figure is bound to be high as it does not factor in any student over the age of 14. Surprisingly, the majority of the countries with the highest educational spending are those in the South Pacific, with the tiny island of Kiribati coming in first at 17.80%. On the other hand, the countries with the lowest GDP are the same Pacific island nations.

Tanzania is comprised of mainly three religions. 30% of the population is some denomination of Christian, 35% Muslim and the remaining 35% of believers hold indigenous religious beliefs. The percentage of the Muslim population increases as you head east; the island of Zanzibar is over 99% Muslim. In comparison, the United States is 78.5% Christian and only 0.6% Muslim (the remaining percentage comprised of other beliefs (4.9%) and unaffiliated/non-believers(16.1%)).

Tanzania, upon gaining independence, became a republic and choose to develop a legal system based on English common law. Like the States, suffrage is 18 years and universal. The current president, Jakaya Kikwete, has been in office since 21 December 2005. Presidential terms last five years and the next election is coming up in October 2010. In the last election, Kikwete won with a resounding 80.3%. Compare this with our last presidential election in which Barak Obama won with 52.4% (a percentage most Americans did not find close).

Tanzania’s flag, as shown, consists of four colours. The green represents the country’s flora, the yellow for it’s mineral deposits, black for the people and blue for it’s lakes and rivers.

Now that I have given you a multitude of facts, take some time to mull them over and come back next week for part 2.

* Disassociated numbers in parenthesis indicate rank among the world

Note: All facts and figures compliments of the CIA World Factbook and the math is brought to you by my handy Casio calculator.

Tanzania Wears Prada

2010-03-31T19:37:00.000+03:00

Brand names. Americans love them. Abercrombie and Fitch, Banana Republic, Columbia, GAP, Nike, Talbot, Birkenstock. Fashion is important in America, especially to younger people. Social status is defined by the names on the tags of your clothing. Consumers faithfully return to their favorite stores, spending a fortune on a pair of blue jeans. Many even fall into debt because of their want for the best, newest clothing.

In Tanzania, appearance is as, or perhaps even more, important than in America. But people here aren’t concerned with brand names. A different kind of style reigns. It doesn’t matter who made your clothes, or so much how they look or fit. What matters is that you are wearing nice clothing. Everyone wants to look ‘sharp’ and respectable. Brand names mean nothing to Tanzanians. Clothing is clothing. Having an outfit that matches isn’t key. But your overall appearance is essential. It doesn’t matter who designed your dress slacks just as long as they’re ironed and creased properly. Westerners have the stereotypic image of an African child in a baggy, tattered shirt and old flip-flops. This stereotype is wrong. Sure, you can find children dressed like this. But anyone who can afford it, dresses well. You won’t find anyone wearing sweat pants and torn sweatshirts for anything other than working out. People place much importance on looking good. Not on having the right brand names or latest fashions, but on the statement that you have taken care to look your best.

Though Western clothing has become a dominant style in Tanzania, tradition still holds on. Traditional dress is still apparent, especially for women. Custom-made dresses cut from richly patterned fabrics are sewn with old Singer machines on street corners. These dresses come in countless styles and have a truly African flavor. Swaths of fabric known as khanga are wrapped around the the waist as a skirt are sometimes worn with the Western T-shirt. Many Maasai, a tribe in East Africa, completely refuse to wear anything Western and proudly display their traditional shúkà dyed deep red and blue. On the coast, where Arabic influence is apparent, men wear white tunics with matching caps and women are hidden underneath floor-length burkas.

Clothes shopping is a mêlée of noise, heat and colour. There are no shopping malls and clothing boutiques here. Buying clothes must be done from a secondhand clothing market. The clothing market near where we live sits atop red African soil and under the brilliant equatorial sun. It’s quite expansive, extending a area comparable with that of a Western shopping mall. The sharp smell of second-hand clothing permeates but doesn’t repel. Wooden lean-tos with tarp roofing house ever type of clothing imaginable. Some specialize in women’s blouses, others in blue jeans and others in hats. In some, clothing is displayed from wire hangers and in others, clothing is left in rumpled heaps for the shopper to sort through. Other vendors don’t have the convenience of a lean-to and pile clothes on low tables or on tarps spread on the ground. Women with fanny-packs of small bills yell out prices like auctioneers and school-girls dig through piles of shirts for something that suits their fancy.

All clothing that passes through these markets is second hand, some used more gently than others. Brand names are stuck next to nameless designers, with nothing to distinguish the two. For some articles of clothing, it is clear how they got here – stained or torn or so terribly out of fashion they shouldn’t ever be allowed to be worn again. Other garments are hidden treasures that don’t even show signs of wear. Some obviously came straight from the garage sale, 25¢ masking tape price tag still attached while others could have walked right out of Macy’s. The ones in better shape fetch higher prices - $2 for a shirt and $7 for a pair of pants at most. If you’re lucky you can find great deals in the piles of clothing that would cost you only pennies.

Finding suitable clothing is somewhat challenging in this environment. For starters, you have to find something that you like. Once that is accomplished, does it fit? Is it clean? Is it damaged at all? Finding an article of clothing that meets all of these requirements can be tricky. But once you find something that works, you have a distinct feeling of accomplishment.

Pole na Mazoezi

2010-03-23T16:15:00.001+03:00

By Cindy Johnson

Pole (Po lay) is a Tanzanian expression that has no equivalent in English. It is a way of expressing sympathy for other’s work or difficulties in life. It is a wonderful and pervasive expression in Tanzania. It is a common greeting for roadside travelers burdened with a heavy load or firewood or water or for a friend whose car has broken down. It is a nice way of saying to someone, ‘I see you suffer from the inevitable burdens of life and I feel empathy.’

As I walk up the mountain toward my goal, the gate of Kilimanjaro National Park, I am greeted in many ways including “pole”, as villagers express empathy for my trudge up the mountain. “Asante, na wewe pia” I respond, and you too. The very idea that these villagers are encouraging me to keep trudging, gives me extra energy, but at the same time feels utterly ridiculous as I watch them also trudge up the mountain beneath a load of firewood balanced carefully on their head. Their burden is not by choice as mine is. I am exercising; they are working.

Exercising intentionally is something that mzungus (white people) do. We are joined by a small minority of Tanzanians who have similar positions behind computers or otherwise no longer have to harvest their food or fuel. Here on a college campus this includes many students, faculty and staff. But most Tanzanians have no need for physical exercise and must find it amusing to watch this mzungu professor marching up the mountain. They are physically strong with endurance that exceeds most athletes. Nonetheless they greet me warmly and offer encouragement.

I watch my fellow exercisers. A man pushes an old bike up the mountain laden with firewood that extends a meter in each direction from his bike. A young girl, no more than 8 years old, expertly balances a bucket of water atop her head as she heads for home. A woman squats while collecting forage; she is limber and flexible. This is what our bodies were meant to do, not run on treadmills.

I have never enjoyed exercising more than here on this mountain. Not only am I constantly encouraged and inspired by the many ‘pole’s I receive, but by the beauty of life. Walking (and running) has allowed me to explore my home on this mountain. With the assistance of students (lest I get lost!), I have explored villages, river gorges, paths that meander amidst banana plantations and stately coffee plantations. Everywhere I am greeted warmly and invited to partake in the local brew, mbege (millet beer). Most know me as the professor from the college. I am shadowed by children anxious to try out their English, wishing me ‘Good Morning’, regardless of the time of day. With few exceptions, I listen to villagers twitter and giggle with mirth as I pass; my Kiswahili is comical at best and I am happy to brighten their day.

Life as it exists here on the mountain is rich and full. Children, neatly dressed in school uniforms and in no hurry, walk home for chores and homework. A small boy dressed in winter ski cap slaloms down the mountain on his imaginary skis and his crude stick poles. A villager under the influence of too much mbege, calls loudly after the mzungu. Pods of women, sharing the day’s news, meander slowly up the mountain. Theirs is a sharing that has happened for centuries; burdens made lighter by comrades. An older man tugs at the lead rope to his cow, switch in hand trying to maneuver man and beast up the mountain. The butcher peers past the carcass that hangs from the ceiling of his small stall, watching and waiting for customers. Chickens skitter across the road and dogs sulk in the shadows. Blue Sykes monkeys perform wild aerobatics teasing me to watch their antics.

Omnipresent, is the mountain. My routes include up and down, both are inevitable. I can choose, up first and then down or vice versa, but always they come together. The mountain provides encouragement, inspiring glimpses of fresh snow contours or full throated cheers of magnificent clouds playing peek a boo with the summit in the colors of twilight.

It was the mountain that provided the inspiration, along with enthusiastic coaching from students, for me to enter my first ever marathon. Yup, a marathon…. Err half marathon. The Kilimanjaro Marathon is one of the premier African marathons that happens to run up the very road I live on at the college. Frankly, I have never understood why anyone would want to do a marathon…long training, boring and/or repetitive routes, hard on the body, etc. However, since I have been blessed with an awesome ‘gym’ on this mountain, I have found my excursions nothing but refreshing, inspiring longer and faster treks. I laughed at the first suggestion of me doing a marathon, but simultaneously and secretly made a promise to myself.

As it turns out, the Kilimanjaro Marathon is a big deal attracting over 3000 runners and 36 countries. There were more mzungus than I’ve seen in a while, but we were outnumbered by Africans of all kinds including those who sit behind computers and those who train professionally. Without contest, the fastest were Africans (Kenyans). Me, I coveted the beautiful medal and knew I could do it just to get the medal. Well 21 kilometers in 3 hours got me a medal, and a time only 30 minutes behind most of my students (1 minute for every year of age difference?). Heck it was easy…. Every few kilometers there was a stand issuing water, food and dripping sponges not to mention the Tanzanian music blaring loudly. It was a hoot, like a big moving party. I never expected it to be fun; hurt yes, but fun? My mostly solitary treks across the countryside had prepared me physically, but I simply didn’t anticipate the fun. Everyone was encouraging and friendly, how could one not succeed given such a huge cheering squadron?

My student coaches have all but signed me up for the next full marathon. Me, I am content to savor my one and only marathon medal (and t-shirt). I will keep trekking across this beautiful countryside soaking in life in its wonderful beauty, diversity and glory. To all you marathoners or marathoner ‘wanna be’, “pole na mazoezi”, I extend my empathy for your exercise.

Ready, set, remember!

2010-02-16T20:20:00.001+03:00

Of all the subjects offered in school, physical education is the one students take least seriously. Gym is the ‘fun’ class where you receive little or no homework, play games most days and are guaranteed high marks if you just come to class.

Most days, at the beginning of class we would do some exercises which would be followed by a rousing match of whatever game it was we were focusing on that week. We played (attempted) every game imaginable. We tried everything from softball to bowling to dodge ball . We even played unconventional games like crab soccer (soccer played in a crab position with an oversized stuffed ball) and Mission Impossible (a game of teamwork involving crossing the gym without touching the floor). A unit on a legitimate game that had real rules (think any sport found in the Olympics) was always anteceded by a test on rules, strategies and scoring. The announcement of a unit test was always met with groaning because, as everyone knows, you don’t get tests in gym class. No one ever liked gym tests because (1) they were out of place, and (2) when would we ever need to know how the dimensions of a lacrosse field or how to keep score in bowling? Needless to say, the information we learned when studying for these tests were quickly lost deep within our grey matter after the exam was over. After all, it wasn’t like these were skills we would need to know in real life.

Or so we though. This year I have found myself reintroduced to all of the games I knew from Phy. Ed. like badminton, tennis and volleyball. Finding myself back on the court, I regretfully wish I had paid more attention in gym class. How was the proper grip of a badminton racquet again? How was scoring in tennis done? I remember something of ‘love’ and ‘advantage’ and such, but then again, it was never was real clear in the first place. It doesn’t help that I have abominable hand-eye coordination and a terrible sense of depth-of-field. There is a reason I am a swimmer and a runner. On the other hand, it doesn’t really matter if you know the rules of the game if the people you play with don’t always follow the traditional rules. I don’t know much about volleyball, but I’m not sure it was intended to be played with kicking and heading as you might find in a soccer game.

Despite my lack of skill and finesse, it is fun to play these games again. And perhaps it is even more amusing for the other players to watch the girl who has no coordination and can only hit the ball two out of every five times. So let this be a less to all of you 9th graders out there – pay attention in gym class. Students always complain, “When will we ever need to know this?” The answer is, even the most arcane bits of knowledge have a purpose and undoubtedly, they will come in handy when you least expect them to.

Sit! Stay! Roll Over!

2010-02-08T21:03:00.000+03:00

Puppy chow, catnip and hamster wheels. Americans are obsessed with their pets. They feed them gourmet food, buy them little outfits for cold days, and leave them messages on the answering machine when they are away. Coming from a culture like that, it can be hard to understand African’s adversity to dogs and other animals.

Here dogs are for security and cats are for mouse control. Dogs bark at intruders and cats do away with any pests. They are purely practical. For the most part, they are ignored and paid little attention, except for perhaps avoidance. Many people here don’t like dogs, which is understandable. Pets aren’t cared for here as they are in the states. Dogs may not be friendly, they may have diseases. With those circumstances it makes sense why people would be afraid of dogs.

In the States, things are at the other extreme. Some people lavish their pets with more attention than they give their friends and spend more money on their pets than the government does on education. People take Fido to the doggy-playground so he won’t get lonely during the day, Mittens to the vet to have her teeth cleaned, and build Squeaky a veritable palace that connects his cage to every room in the house.

I find both of these extremes a bit absurd. Pets can be great companions and useful as guards and pest controllers. On the other hand, they are just pets and don’t need monthly check-ups at the vet’s, one hundred and one play toys or food better on par with human fare.

The Snows of Mt. Kilimanjaro

2010-02-03T21:03:00.001+03:00

Living on the slopes of the tallest mountain in Africa can, at times, yield an impressive view. Some days, the ones with out clouds, we have a spectacular view of the mountain.

There is even a good view reflected out front door:

On most days, however, the mountain is shrouded in cloud leaving little…

… or none of the mountain visible.

Post-rain periods hold their own surprises. Like rainbows…

… and snow!

Five Stars

2010-01-22T20:30:00.001+03:00

Some of the most surprising differences in life here versus in the States are from the more common things that you normally don’t think about. One example would be movies. Acquiring and watching movies in Tanzania is quite different than in the States.

Movies can be bought in small electronic shops or just off the street. Unlike in the States, where movies come in fancy plastic cases, DVDs here come in plastic sleeves inside a flat folder of thick paper. And unlike in the States, movies here are sold in bunches. When you buy a DVD you get anywhere from ten to thirty movies. What I find most surprising is that they somehow fit twenty-odd movies on one DVD. The grouping of the movies has little reason to it. They could claim to be grouped by comedies, action or other criterion but in actuality tend to be mixed. A DVD of comedy movies might contain ten comedies, two dramas and an action movie. Once you have made your selection, you don’t have to worry about breaking the bank to pay for the movies. Buying one DVD with perhaps twenty movies costs only about $2.30. Yes, with two dollars and thirty cents you can buy more than twenty movies. How is this possible, you ask? Let me illuminate…

Think back to the last movie you watched. What was the first thing that came up on the screen? Piracy warnings. What was the last thing? Credits. Both of these things are removed from the movies here. All of the movies are clearly pirated and many appear to have been recorded in a movie theater as you can hear the audience’s laughter in the background. I can now understand why writers, producers and other are so concerned about the copyrights of their films.

Though the majority of films are of good quality, some of them are less adequate. As I said previously, some have been recorded and the sound tracks have external noises in them. Many of the films are accompanied with subtitles, though not always accurate ones. For example, the subtitles in the Disney children’s film Up contain quite a few swear words that are definitely not in the movie. Other movies have subtitles that convey the same meaning as what is said but in very different words. One movie I watched was originally in English but had been dubbed in some East European language and had subtitles that were terribly confusing and clearly had little to do with what was happening on screen. Despite these viewing difficulties, the overall watching experience has been positive.

Ingenuity

2010-01-06T21:17:00.000+03:00

If you were to ask someone of the street what words they would use to describe Americans, chances are the word ‘ingenious’ would be among the resulting list. From founding fathers like Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson to Thomas Edison and Bill Gates, we believe we hold a strong lineage of ingenious minds. But I believe this is not due to an inherent ‘American nature’ but results from chance. The real inventors are those in developing nations.

Inspired by the local atmosphere, we have done some of our own improvising. When you can’t rely on a Target or Wal-mart to provide little necessities, you have to find other ways of making due. We’ve created candle holders and a rolling pin out of old bottles, a Tanzania version of Monopoly out of old cereal boxes and bottle caps, and house decorations of seed pods found in our backyard. The cupboard in our hallway has been dedicated to raw materials and all scraps are deposited there until they are needed.

Ingenuity springs from making due with what you have. In third world countries, resources are limited, creating an ideal playground for an ingenious mind. Here, children create play toys from discarded water jugs and old bicycle rims, women make handicrafts out of plant materials and men rig bicycles with grindstones to sharpen blades. The creativity exhibited by the children in developing countries is precisely what the world needs when trying to tackle the problems like energy shortage and climate change.

Unfortunately, the education to improve this creativity is not what it should be. If you were born in Tanzania, you may not have had the opportunity to attend school as is granted in the States. Success lies in opportunity. These children have been given the priming for creativity and ingenuity but they lack education. If given the education and opportunities, the children of developing nations could easily become the world leaders, inventors and scientists that will drive our world forward in the years to come.

The Ascent

2010-01-02T21:17:00.000+03:00

I have climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro. I did it. Well, I didn’t climb to the top, but I’ve climbed a little. The college at Mweka is just a few kilometers downhill from the park gate. We’ve walked up to the gate a few times just for the fun of it.

Setting off under marshmallow clouds, we turn left onto the paved road which turns to gravel meters past the college. The village of Mweka lies just uphill from the college and consists of a few shops and a scattering of houses. The shops are all small, but packed with items. As you walk along Main Street, you can see a pharmacy, tailors at antique Singer sewing machines, and the butcher shop (a small white tiled building with carcasses hanging from hooks in the ceiling). The areas between houses are filled with banana plants and maize.

We follow the rocky volcanic road as it winds up the mountain, past two primary schools and through a second village. This village has many restaurant/bars filled with more white plastic chairs than the village probably has people. These ‘bars’ that line either side of the road, are short, open structures with a barred counter in the back. White and red plastic chairs crowd around wobbly plastic tables on the packed dirt floor. As you pass through the town, old men offer a local brew from large, brightly coloured plastic cups.

As we continue on the road inclines sharply but we are rewarded at the top of the rise with spectacular views of golden plains and blue mountains under pillow clouds. Up here, the view puts into perspective how far up the mountain we actually are. As we reach the gate, banana trees give way to forest and tree ferns.

All along the way, children run out to greet us with “Jambo!” or “Good morning” (even when it is the afternoon). Some are quieter and shadow us a few paces back. Often, they ask for money or chocolate, which of course, everyone carries when they go on a walk, right? Older folk are amused by our limited knowledge of Swahili greetings. They enthusiastically greet us and laugh good naturedly when we get the response wrong.

Dar es Salaam

2009-12-29T18:32:00.000+03:00

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

2009-12-25T18:28:00.000+03:00

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

2009-12-21T09:59:00.000+03:00

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

2009-12-17T19:46:00.001+03:00

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

2009-12-13T11:58:00.000+03:00

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?

2009-12-11T19:13:00.000+03:00

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

2009-12-07T19:00:00.000+03:00

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

2009-12-04T18:56:00.000+03:00

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

2009-12-01T10:54:00.000+03:00

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).

Hello?

2009-11-28T10:53:00.000+03:00

As part of our journey down the long path of Swahili fluency, we have been trying to master greetings. Though this sounds simple enough, I assure you, it is no simple task. Everyone tells us that Swahili is an easy language to learn, but I’m not yet convinced.

In English, there are a couple greetings that work for all occasions and a few standard responses. In Swahili, things get a little more complicated. Greetings depend on the time of day, and the age of the person being greeted. Additionally, each greeting has it’s own answer that cannot be interchanged with any other greeting-answer. Time-based greeting are easy. It’s a simple matter of inserting the right time word (asubuhi, mchana, jioni, etc.) into the sentence.

However, when you get to greetings based on age, you really have to think. If the person is older than you, you say, “Shikamoo”, to which the correct response is “marahaba”. Younger people greet each other with “Mambo vipi” (and the reply ‘poa’). And remember, don’t mix the responses!

Though learning the phrases is easy enough, using them is more difficult. When you pass someone on the street who is slightly older than you, should you use the formal ‘shikamoo’ or is appropriate to say ‘mambo’? Should you wait for a child to address you with ‘shikamoo’ or can you initiate with ‘mambo’? Keep in mind that these are the greetings that we have mastered – there are even more we are less familiar with.

Once you get beyond greetings, you find that Swahili is a very structured language. There are a lot of rules, but very few exceptions. Swahili is like Spanish in that the verb has to be conjugated to fit the person along with the tense. Fortunately, in Swahili the conjugating is nearly always the same and doesn’t vary with the verb like Spanish.

Though verbs are relatively easy, adjectives can be tricky. Adjectives take a certain prefix depending on the noun class and plurality of the noun being described. Unlike in English where most plural nouns receive an ‘s’ or ‘es’, Swahili nouns fall in to various classes which are pluralized multiple ways. For example, ‘kitabu’ (book) becomes ‘vitabu’ in plural form but ‘mtoto’ (child) turns in to ‘watoto’ and ‘mbwa’ stays ‘mbwa’ no matter how many dogs there are. These examples are just three of many noun classes. Once you figure out the noun class and plurality of the noun, you have to conjugate the adjective to fit.

Swahili, as you may have noticed, is packed with double consonants. There are a lot of words with mw, mb, ng, kw, mn, or mt. People say that Swahili is pronounced like it sounds (which I maintain can be said by any speaker of his/her native language. Think about it.). I don’t know about you, but I was never taught the pronunciation of ‘mk’ words when I was a toddler. Though Swahili and English share a similar alphabet (there is no q in Swahili), some Swahili words are difficult for an untrained English mouth.

Fortunately for us, good-byes are limited to a couple variations. ‘Kwa heri’ is the standard ‘good-bye’, ‘Usiku mwema’ means ‘good night’, and ‘baadae’ is the slang for ‘later’. With that in mind, kwa herini until next time!

Type to Learn

2009-11-25T10:52:00.000+03:00

A few days back, I headed to the Nsoo Secondary School for another day of teaching. I was running a little late and once reaching the school, headed straight for the classroom. Before I reached my destination, I was intercepted by the school’s secretary, Mary. She said the headmaster wanted a word with me. I told her that I had class then, and perhaps I could speak to him afterwards? No, she said, it’s urgent. So off I go with Mary.

Upon entering his office, I saw the headmaster squished behind his desk which was pilled with messy stacks of dog-eared papers. Head in hands, he motioned me to sit at the chair in front of the desk which is always facing the wall, perpendicular to the headmaster.

The head master sighed once and said, “We have a problem.” Uh-oh, I thought, this doesn’t sound good. Hundreds of possibilities flooded my head. What could this be about? They weren’t going to fire me, were they?

“Yes?” I asked, mentally rifling through all of the possibilities in my head.

“Final exams are next week and our typist is gone. We need someone to type them up. Could you do that?” he asked, fiddling with a blue pen. Much relieved that I wasn’t going to be fired from my volunteering job, I eagerly agreed to the task and went to class.

Later that afternoon, I was flagged down by Mary again. She led me to a backroom, unlocked a heavily padlocked cabinet and pulled out a huge stack of papers. Warily, I eyed the thick pile of exams. It was a lot more than I had bargained for. She cheerfully handed over the papers and thanked me profusely. I had the notion that if it wasn’t for me, she would have had to type all of the exams up.

Once home, I settled in to type exams. The work was more interesting than I had expected it. Knowing little about the Tanzanian school system and curriculum, it was interesting to see what these students were learning and compare it to my high school education. Though the material covered is similar, the delivery method is different. Unlike in an American high school were you can choose which classes to take, in Tanzania you have no choice. The courses are also maintained throughout the year and repeated at higher levels in subsequent years.

I returned to the school the following day with half of the papers typed only to find that they didn’t have power and I couldn’t give them the typed exams.

“Come back tomorrow,” Mary said. “Hopefully we will have power then. Oh, and here are some more exams.” She handed me another stack, though this one wasn’t as large.

All in all, I typed up over 20 final exams (which were no little tests, by the way) on every subject ranging from Math to Bible Study to English (which, surprisingly, had a few grammar mistakes).

Tales from Safari (edition V)

2009-11-23T10:44:00.000+03:00

Mud in Tanzania is unlike any other mud I have experienced. After a good rain, the lowland roads on the coast turn to sticky black molasses. The soil absorbs extreme amounts of water and grab at everything that passes. Especially vehicles. On our return to Mweka, we found ourselves stuck in the mud several times.

Driving in the mud seems to be even more difficult than driving on snow or ice. Luckily we had exceptional drivers that could keep the momentum going while still keeping the vehicle in control. We bounced along, fishtailing and soon our white Land Rovers were brown. We were doing good until the vehicle in front of us got stuck and we had to slow down. Then we, too, found ourselves stuck. After a few minutes of spinning tires and moving inches we were freed. Unfortunately, the supply vehicle behind us was in deep. After moving to higher, dry ground, we unloaded and hiked back to free the stuck Land Rover. It took a good deal of time and manpower, but the students were able to push the Land Rover out of the mud and back on the road. Cheers and high-fives were cut short as the Land Rover quickly found its way back into the mud. The process started over and was repeated a few times that morning.

Once we made it back to the main road, which was paved, we were safe. But as we passed through the Pare Mountains, which had early that day experienced heavy rains, parts of the road were flooded with murky orange water and gullies appeared where none had been previously. In the more arid Northern regions, when it rains deforested areas are prone to heavy erosion, as we saw.

Tales from Safari (edition IV 1/2)

2009-11-22T11:07:00.000+03:00

Here is another perspective on the bush meat incident written by the ever-captivating Professor . . .

I was angry, only I didn’t know whom to be angry with. The assailant, the villagers, the rangers, the foreign factory owner, the government, whom? All held and sidestepped responsibility. There was little I could do other than extend a spiritual embrace to a soul hovering between life and death.

The water buck was mired to its belly in mud in a watering hole on the edge of the village. It quivered with exhaustion. Deep lacerations oozing with blood spread across the haunches, neck and face. Snorting in fear and defense, a frothy mix of blood, sweat and hormones cascaded down the broad face from the laceration just below the eyes. The look of fear, pain and exhaustion was unmistakable. With it’s characteristic white ring of fur around the buttocks and a beautiful gray brown coat the muscles of this common water buck likely had shimmered athletically just hours earlier before descending to this lethal watering hole. Here in the night it became entangled in a crudely set snare.

The watering hole was a muddy puddle of water not more than six meters in diameter on the edge of a small village. Nearby was a large tank of water for villagers who cautiously watched while filling their vessels. The water buck, as the name implies, must visit water daily and the end of the dry season had forced this particular animal to venture to the edge of the village in search of water.

Snares do not discriminate. A water buck is a large animal comparable to an American elk. The poacher, machete in hand, likely had approached in the night to harvest this animal as the lacerations attest. Finding a machete no match for the horns of a healthy water buck, the poacher probably retreated in the hopes that the animal would weaken before dawn, enabling harvest and discrete distribution of what then would then be bushmeat.

Many times I had taught about bushmeat in my classes on conservation biology and each time I presented the difficulties of poverty versus conservation. How can westerners cry about animals lost to poaching when abject poverty and hunger fuels desperation? What would my students do I ask and who is to blame? Like many difficult problems there are no simple answers, yet here I stood watching this water buck seeking desperately to find someone to blame.

The villagers watched as the rangers lassoed the water buck and dragged it out of the mud after several hours of trying to scare it out of the watering hole. The animal braced all legs, pulling back against the cable hooked to a truck until it collapsed. The villagers were silent. No one would utter a word, though likely each of them knew who carried the bloodied machete. This was meat lost. The East Indian factory owner indignantly insisted on a doctor for the poor animal. He spoke with denial in English, apparently unable to speak Swahili. I wondered if he felt a twinge (or perhaps a surge) of guilt in this factory town of poorly paid hungry people.

The rangers carefully went about their job of tying the animal and loading it on the truck, still alive. This task clearly pained them and brought great sadness. The water buck could not be left in the waterhole to die or even be shot as this was viewed as incentive to poachers. The government, in an effort to discourage poachers mandates that the animal must be transported and released in the hopes of recovery. Animals taken only a short ways are often stalked by their assailants and butchered, so the journey deep into the bush in the back of a truck was long.

Before leaving the site, the rangers collect the snare and take photographs knowing that is unlikely that anyone will be held accountable, but rather to add the evidence to the growing pile of statistics on bushmeat. They remove another snare in an adjacent tree along with a tethered vervet monkey, long since dead. The young monkey too small to butcher, was left to die and now was no more than a dried carcass.

The rangers unload the water buck deep in the bush where the acacia trees stretch to the horizon. Theirs is not an easy job. I wonder how many silent prayers they have made over similar heaps of blood matted fur. Though of little comfort, the bush is a better place to die and as we departed the soul hovered between the savanna and clouds.

I still have no answers to the questions I pose to students on bushmeat, nor was I able to identify any group or person to blame, but something inside me changed. There is a small piece of sadness that comes from lost hope and I find myself deeply angry. Angry at a world that allows people to be hungry, for corporations who fail to provide a living wage and for governments forced to make difficult choices. The world is big. Big enough for waterbucks, villagers, corporations and westerners, but only when we all take responsibility. We cannot and must not lose hope, for hope is the spirit that guides us from anger to responsibility. Could hope be the strongest conservation tool we have? Maybe, the answer lies in a combination of hope, beauty and dignity for all, including waterbucks.

Tales from Safari (edition IV)

2009-11-21T10:41:00.001+03:00

During our stay at Sadani National Park we had a unique experience. One day, after dropping the students off in the bush with a promise to pick them up five kilometers south of that point in a few hours, we headed back to camp. Before we got to camp we came upon a watering hole just outside a village. As Sadani National Park has been recently established, all of the area’s former inhabitants have not been entirely relocated. (The government is in the midst of buying out a salt company whose workers live in a town within the park boundaries.)

Reaching the watering hole we realized what the commotion was about. Being the end of the dry season, this was one of the remaining watering holes in the area and many animals flock to it. Unfortunately they don’t all leave. In this case, a large male waterbuck had been caught in a snare. A small group of villagers stood around watching while four park rangers tried to free the animal. In the previous night, the hunter had tried to kill the snared animal but only succeeded in wounding it. By the time we had arrived, the waterbuck had lost much blood from deep gashes on its nose and side and was in a weakened, frightened state. The rangers tried poking and prodding the beast but to little avail. When waterbuck are scared, their tendency is to water, making it hard to chase this one away from the watering hole. After several failed attempts, they resorted to a new tactic. Looping a cord over the waterbuck’s horns, five grown men tried to put the animal out of the mud, moving the creature only meters before the rope broke. Once armed with a new rope, they tied the waterbuck to a truck and pulled that way. The poor creature fought its removal to exhaustion and collapsed on the ground. The waterbuck was then tied up, pilled in the back of a pickup and driven off, deep into the park, where the poachers couldn’t find it.

In a country where over half of the population lives on less than $1 a day (and nearly all of the country on less than $2), illegal hunting is a popular method for food and income. In National Parks, hunting is strictly prohibited, though laws do little to deter poor villagers. It’s easy to sit back and think, ‘why would anyone do such a thing?’, but when you consider the circumstances, black and white become gray. When you have starving children to feed, and bush meat is considerably cheaper than beef, you are not inclined to spend your precious little money for the conservation-friendly beef. The on looking villagers certainly knew who the culprit was but kept the secret to themselves. But can you really blame them? The salt company pays them little to nothing, their children are hungry, and why should the waterbuck get free access to the town’s watering hole? Until communities have greater ownership and economic benefit from wildlife it is unlikely that the bush meat trade will decrease.A vervet monkey was also caught in a snare, but not being worth the small amount of meat it would provide, was left in the tree where it was snared.

Tales from Safari (edition III)

2009-11-18T10:04:00.000+03:00

As I have previously mentioned, we spent a good amount of time on the beach. I could devote a rather lengthy post to how much I love the ocean, but I think that it would bore a good deal of you (or make you so jealous of my beach time that you quit reading). So instead I will devote my time to other things.

The coastal area of Pangani is a beautiful place. The blue waters sparkle in the sun and there is always a breeze to carry the heat away, and best of all there are virtually no mosquitoes. In the mornings, local fishermen hoist the white canvas sails of their dhous (catamaran sailboats) and emerge from the Pangani river to disperse on the wide seas for the day. The tides at Pangani were impressive. The difference from high to low was half a mile. When the tide was out, the white sand beaches stretched far and a beachcomber could find multitudes of colorful seashells and stranded jellyfish with stubby tentacles.

The culture of the coast is also different from farther inland. Though the Kilimanjaro region has Tanzania's highest population density, the coastal region is far poorer. Even though Pangani hosts a lower standard of living than say Arusha or Moshi, theft is rare. (Having said that, I was the unfortunate victim of a boot-thief, much to the dismay of the group.)

During our stay at the coast, we visited a mangrove forest, a seaweed farm, tide pools, and the Maziwe Marine Reserve. The students did studies on diversity, took species inventories and listened to presentations given by locals. The teaching style is a bit different here in that students are much more self reliant. When left on their own, they set to work and and complete their surveys. During lectures they listen intently and ask insightful questions. And on a Friday night they can be found not at the bar blasting loud music, but next door at the quiet restaurant finishing up their homework.

Liability is also different here. In the States, doctors prescribe every test imaginable to avoid missing an illness and being sued. Here, seatbelts aren’t required and in fact, many of the seats don’t even have them. Getting to Maziwe Marine Reserve requires a 90 minute boat ride. Before we left, life vests were handed out, just like they would be in the States. The difference was that there were fewer than 10 lifejackets for the 24 people. The lifejackets that were handed out were little more than orange vest that might have once had some stuffing for flotation. There was little doubt in my mind that if an emergency arose, the vests would provide no assistance. (To add to the circumstances, only about half of the students could swim.)

Our stay at the beach was very enjoyable and it was hard to leave. Luckily our next stop would be a National Park.

Tales from Safari (edition II)

2009-11-16T10:03:00.000+03:00

At Mweka Wildlife College, the students periodically go on safari to put their theoretical knowledge to practice in the the field. The safari group we went with were third year advanced diploma students. These are the seniors of the college and they really know their stuff. So last week we piled twenty people and two drivers into two Land Rovers (I’m still not sure how we all fit) and headed of to the coast.

The drive from our home in Mweka to the coastal region of Pangani where we stayed took a good part of the day. As soon as you come down off the mountain, the air warms and the enclosed quarters of the vehicle become increasingly confining. But the landscape is distracting and you soon forget your sardine-packed state.

East of Moshi, the landscape is covered with scrub brush and the Pare Mountains loom blue on the horizon. Baobabs, thick-trunked trees with spindly branches, dot the countryside and shade herds of goat and cattle. Many of the larger trees have conical boxes hanging from braided rope that serve as beehives.

The dusty landscape is void of water and agriculture except for the occasional oasis which can be spotted miles off thanks to the grove of coconut trees they support Upon closer inspection, the coconut trees show stems notched for ideal footholds.

Further along, the Pare Mountains turn into the Usambara Mountains and through their peaks, you can see Kenya. The soil also changes from burnt orange to crimson red. Towards the coast, cinder blocked and tin roofed houses give way to mud and stick thatched huts.

Half way we stopped at the Highway Restaurant. The name seems a misnomer to me. Lots of businesses boast the title “highway” but I have yet to find the highway. The road, though fancy by African standards, is but one lane in each direction. I would only qualify that as a road.

The scrubland turned to vast fields of sisal as we neared the coast. Spiky plants stretch in even columns to either horizon. These plantations are the remnants of the colonial period which have since been bought out by Asian companies.

As we crested a hill, the Indian ocean came into view in the distance. Past the fields a sapphire ribbon was pasted on the horizon beneath the pale blue sky. As we drove through a village that overlooked the distant ocean I had to wonder how many of the children in the village had been to the ocean. In a poor, rural village many people live their whole lives within a few miles of their home village. In my opinion, everyone should get to experience the ocean.

Reaching the ocean we set up camp just back from the white sand beach. The hot equatorial afternoon was cut by a warm breeze and the scent of salt water. Coming from the middle of a continent, there is something irresistible about an ocean. Maybe it’s the tangy smell of the water, the tides, the vast expanse of blue or perhaps all three things. Whatever it is, I would travel a million miles to get to the ocean and willingly spend all my life there. Though our drive was long and hot, it was most definitely worth it.

Tales from Safari

2009-11-14T10:01:00.001+03:00

As we just returned from a Safari, this coming week of posts will be about our adventures. I’ll start today with a letter home.

Dear Friends,

I hope every thing is going well in the Northern Hemisphere. Is it cold? Is it snowing? That’s a shame. I was sitting here on the warm, tropical Indian Ocean and decided to write you a letter. It’s hot on the coast, but a light breeze off the azure waters makes the beach a perfect place to relax.

Today we went to island Marine Reserve Mziwe about an hour’s boat trip. The ocean here is so clear and warm! The deep water blues are a color you wouldn’t find in a Crayola box, and the shallow waters are an aqua even National Geographic can’t capture. As I’m used to the temperature of Minnesotan lakes, Lake Superior in particular, I brace myself as I jump in the turquoise waves, but instead of ice cubes I find a hot-tub. The only bad thing about being on the coast is the amount of sun – I’m afraid I’m a bit burnt. I’ll have to remember to put on more sunscreen on next time I go swimming. Alas, life isn’t perfect, is it? But nearly so in this case.

Tomorrow we are leaving this beautiful paradise. But it isn’t as bad as it sounds. We are headed to Sadani National Park where we hopefully see all kinds of exotic wildlife. Wish you were here?

Best of Wishes, Mara

And for everything else, there’s $10

2009-11-12T09:58:00.000+03:00

The prices of food and other commodities in Tanzania continues to astound me. The other day I bought five tomatoes, two cucumbers and an eggplant for 38¢. On top of that, the quality of the vegetables is much better and fresher than any you would find in the states. Sending a text message will cost you only 1/5th of one cent. I thought it would be interesting to see what you can by with ten dollars here in Tanzania. With ten dollars you can buy all of the following items:

1 bag of cookies ($2.30)
1 bottle of Coca Cola (30¢)
1.5 liters of water (54¢)
1 box of cereal ($2.30)
1 can of beans ($1.08)
1 large aluminum cooking pot ($2.30)
2 rolls of toilet paper (23¢ each)
1 bag of potato chips (77¢)

And with another ten dollars, you can buy all of these items:

Juice ($1.84)
A large loaf of bread ($1.00)
1 kg of sugar ($1.15)
2 kg of flour ($1.84)
1 jar of strawberry jam ($1.84)
6 candles (92¢)
Laundry detergent (46¢)
1 package of gum ($1.11)

If you want to look at it another way, you can buy any one of the following with just ten dollars.

Dinner for three at a nice restaurant
Hiring a maid to clean and do laundry for two weeks
3 silk scarves
4 bags of cookies
4 boxes of cereal
10 loaves of bread
10 cans of beans
13 bags of potato chips
18.4 liters of water
24 lb of sugar
33 bottles of Coca Cola
44 rolls of toilet paper
53 movies
65 candles
223 text messages

Though basic food stuffs are cheap compared to American standards, other things, like books, are expensive. A wildlife guide book will cost somewhere between $45 and $75.

It’s a good thing that $10 will buy a lot of food because Master Card won’t work for everything else. Hardly anyone takes credit cards, so your $10 needs to go a long ways.

Cooking with a Cooker

2009-11-09T09:56:00.000+03:00

Coming from a house with a oven, a microwave and a full cupboard of spices and baking paraphernalia, we have found it difficult to come up with meals that fit our new situation. Having more time to cook, and less things to cook with we have found ourselves at an interesting crossroad.

Our first problem was one of equipment. Upon arrival, we were given a refrigerator and a set of dishes to use; nothing more. So naturally, one of our first orders of business was to purchase some of the things we would need to cook. We ended up buying a ‘cooker’ as it is called. Though I was initially hesitant at its capabilities, the cooker has proven to be quite useful.

As you can see, it has two burners and an oven. However the oven can only go to 250° which provides for some interesting baking. We also acquired a few basic kitchen items like stirring spoons, pots and a pan. Because of the difficulty in finding cooking utensils, we end up using a tea cup as a measuring cup and a real table spoon as a tablespoon.

The second difficulty we have been coping with is ingredients. Because you don’t find any supermarkets here, getting baking ingredients is a challenge. We have a limited number of spices (one called ‘Tanzania spices’ – a mix we have no idea what its made up of), baking powder but no baking soda, a bag of generic flour and a few other basic items. Not having a cookbook, we get our recipes off the internet. The recipes we get off the internet though, only resemble what we mix together and throw in the oven. When your recipe calls for thyme and baking powder – neither of which you have – you tend to get a bit inventive, more out of necessity than of creativeness. Some days we don’t get a chance to find recipes and end up guessing. (Mac n’ cheese is just macaroni and cheese, right?)

In addition to those ingredients we have a pile of avocadoes (the avocado tree in our backyard is dropping them faster than we can pick them up). Since neither of us is all that fond of guacamole (and we don’t have any chips to put it on) we have been searching for recipes with a large proportion of avocadoes. Using a banana bread recipe as a template, we have created a new dish – avocakes. These little green cakes, however unappealing they may look, actually taste quite good. They make tasty sweet cakes for desert. If your interesting in trying them out, check out the recipe at the bottom of the page.

The hardest part of cooking here is the variability of electricity. Often, when you want nothing more than a hot bowl of soup for dinner, the electricity is off and you are stuck with a cold cabbage salad or a P&J sandwich on week old bread. Now there is nothing wrong with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I adore them, but after the third meal, you really wish you had electricity to make pasta. Lack of electricity also makes refrigeration hard. After 48 hours with out power, you begin to question the safety of the chicken in the freezer.

With ample time in the evenings and a hour and a half lunch break, there is plenty of time to experiment in the kitchen. Experimentation makes for interesting meals and is definitely fun (though maybe not so entertaining for those who have to eat what you cook).

Avocakes

1 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1 tbs cinnamon
1 cup of mashed avocadoes (about 3 medium avocadoes)
3/4 cup milk

Mix all of the ingredients together. Place heaping spoonfuls of the batter on a greased pan. Cook for 15 minutes at 250°.

If you want to get the whole experience, measure ingredients with teacups and spoons, find an avocado tree and go collect your own avocadoes.

For the Birds

2009-11-06T09:46:00.000+03:00

If you’ve noticed the new bird list in the right column next to the posts, you may have been wondering what all the strangely named birds look like. Well, it is your lucky day. Here are a few pictures to satisfy your inquisitive mind. (Keep in mind that birds, especially the little ones, are difficult to photograph so some of these pictures are rather grainy.)

This prehistoric-looking thing the Silver-cheeked Hornbill. These large creatures make the most noise I’ve ever heard out of a bird. Their wings make loud whooshing noises when they fly and they have a distinct call.

Here is the lovely Augur Buzzard. This one likes to hang out on the football goal.

Meet the beautiful Amethyst Sunbird. When the sun catches his feathers just right, his chin shines iridescent red and the top of his head brilliant green.

The one and only Common Bulbul, tricolor variety.

This would be the Black-and-white Mannikin. Doesn’t look much like a manikin to me either.

And the ever prominent White-eyed Slaty Flycatcher

This is the feather of a pied crow. The Pied crow looks like a North American crow wearing a white vest.

This terrible picture is of the Speckled Mousebird. It’s hard to see here, but the Mousebird has a funny crest of feathers on its head and a super long tail.

And this cute little fellow (the Common Fiscal). . .

. . . is a killer. (Poor lizard)

This is the female Baglafecht Weaver caught in the act of making a nest.

I’ve saved the best for last. This is definitely my favorite bird of all the ones I’ve seen so far. It is the Variable Sunbird and is almost as noisy as the Hornbill, but much prettier.

This duller one is the female.

Those are all the bird pictures for now. Bye!

Got Water?

2009-11-03T11:30:00.000+03:00

In the land of 10,000 lakes, we tend to take water for granted. We swim in it in the summer, it always comes out of the faucet and we water our lawns with it in the middle of the day. In Tanzania things are a little different.

Water is a commodity. In a developed nation with extensive aquifers and surface water, we consider water as abundant as air. But across much of the globe, water is a scare commodity. In developing countries some women walk for hours and have to stand in line just to fill up a container of water. Next time you turn on the faucet in your kitchen sink, think about that for a moment.

Here in Tanzania, we are a the very end of the dry season. Across much of the country, water is hard to find. We are lucky. Being situated on Mt. Kilimanjaro means we have more water than other areas thanks to the melting snows and runoff. Even though our water source is more reliable than in other areas, it is still less consistent than water in the States. Periodically, the water is shut off and we are left high and dry (pun intended) for an average of one to three hours. Eventually it will come back, but you never know when it might get shut off again. Some days we only have a couple hours of ‘water time’. This, as you can imagine, makes simple activities – like showering and washing dishes – a challenge.

Okay, go back to your faucet. What do you notice about the temperature of your water? It can get pretty hot, right? Have you ever stopped to consider your hot water? It’s rather convenient. Before this year, I never thought much about hot water, other than it was nice after coming in from the bitter Minnesotan winter winds. Now, I have come to appreciate hot water on a new level. If you want a hot shower here you have to first turn on the hot water heater. And then you wait. In thirty minutes, if you’re lucky, you will have a nice warm shower. But don’t dally – there is only enough warm water for one short shower. Sometimes you aren’t so lucky. Electricity is only slightly more reliable than water. If the power is off, you’re stuck with a cold shower. If the water is off, you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow.

When is the last time you bought bottled water? Why did you do that? You just paid a dollar for something that comes out of your tap for free. In the States, the water that comes out of the faucet is totally safe. Here, it is not. Whereas in the States it is frivolous to buy bottled, in Tanzania it is a necessity. Water that comes out of the faucet here is not treated. If you want a glass of water or to brush your teeth, you have to purchase bottled water or boil your own. Fortunately, bottled water costs much less in Tanzania. One and a half liters of purified water costs only 50¢. Unfortunately, even this trivial cost adds up over time. Your other alternative is to boil water. Boiling water is not a difficult task by any means. Except when you don’t have electricity. Or water. Then its a challenge. For the most part, its a manageable job. But when you have to boil two pots a day, it does get a bit tiresome. And when you have to boil your water, water conservation is a no brainer. I find myself carefully rationing water when I brush my teeth and rinsing dishes with the absolute minimum. (When you wash dishes, you can’t just rinse from the tap. The water must first be boiled. This creates an art of rinsing dishes with the least amount of water possible so you don’t have to boil another pot.)

So consider that next time you take a shower, grab for bottled water, or wash the dishes. If you’re feeling adventuresome, take the water challenge. Try rinsing your dishes with a pot of boiled water or shut off the water for the day. And remember, water is a commodity – don’t take it for granted.

Odds and Ends

2009-11-01T09:45:00.000+03:00

Greetings dear readers! I hope the reading over the past month has been interesting and tolerable enough to bear for eight more months. When no one bothers to leave comments, it can be difficult to judge reader interest. So listen up all you freeloaders - yes, I’m talking to you - don’t be afraid to leave comments. I don’t bite (and your computer won’t either). I’m surprised no one has said anything about my new occupation. I don’t care what you comment about (you can talk about penguins if you like) or if you decide to be anonymous. Thank you.

Now that that’s done, on to other business. As we are here under a Fulbright scholarship, I have to write a disclaimer. Here goes…

The views and opinions expressed on this website are mine and mine alone. The Fulbright institution, Mweka Wildlife College or any other organization may not share the same opinions. I hold full responsibility for all content on this blog site.

How was that lawyers?

Continuing with the house cleaning, I wish to offer you a trip of a lifetime. With the holiday season right around the corner, what could be better than a gift of an unforgettable trip? I am offering up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for any who wish to participate. Fly on down this Christmas break for a Tanzanian vacation. We will be hosting a safari and beach trip over the holidays and if anyone is interested, let us know. Escape the bitter northern winds and come relax on the warm Indian Ocean, and watch lions, giraffes and zebras on the plains of East Africa. Can you think of a better way to spend the end of the year?

Now that we’ve swept up the cobwebs and cleaned the bathrooms, here are some odds and ends pictures.

Ahh – a gigantic snail! Run for your lives! Not quite. This little feller is the size of a grown man’s fist. But I doubt it would do anything more than leave a slimy trail on you if you were too slow to get out of its way.

Kathryn, this one is for you. I’d have to say this is the biggest, baddest bug I’ve ever seen. It’s nearly as big as the snail but it can fly. . . .

And here is the ever-amazing chameleon. It really is camouflaged!

Check out this crazy fruit - it’s orange and spiky. Evidently its related to a cucumber.

That’s all for now folks! I hope to be hearing from you! (I’m leaving on safari tomorrow, but when I get back I expect some commentary.)

A lesson for Kermit the frog

2009-10-30T12:30:00.000+03:00

This year I will dare to be green. I vow to reduce my energy consumption, conserve water and eat locally.

A year ago, I had to drive twenty minutes to get to school and back home, at least five times a week. Now because I have vowed to go green, I will walk. It takes 30 minutes each way but in addition to reducing carbon emissions, I’m also improving my health.

In Minnesota, the days are getting shorter and lights have to be turned on earlier in the evening. But at 3° south, the length of our days remains pretty much constant throughout the year. Even though I am already using indoor lighting less, I promise to shut of the lights when I don’t use them and even use candles from time to time.

And since we reside at a toasty distance from the equator, it will remain warm enough to air dry clothes even in January. So I pledge to hang my clothes on the line and let them air dry instead of using an energy sucking drying machine.

As for water conservation, I swear to use as little as possible and reuse as much as I can. I promise to wash dishes by hand and take shorter showers. I promise to shut of the water when I brush my teeth and to not water the lawn. I promise to remember the age old adage, ‘if it’s yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown flush it down’ even though that can be a little gross.

Finally, I will eat locally. I vow to buy as much food as I can from local farmers. I vow to buy as little food as I can that has been shipped in across the country, continent or world. And as long as I’m at it, I’ll try to eat foods that are unprocessed and packaged foods that have less than five ingredients.

Today I begin and for the rest of the year, I will be green. I will use less energy and water. I will eat locally. I will do my part to help our planet. What about you? I dare you to go green.

Now that I have given you my word of conservation, there are a few things I should tell you.

First off, I should admit that I really can’t drive to school because one driving in Tanzania is crazy and two I don’t know how to operate a stick shift. Second, part of my energy conservation is mandatory. We often loose electricity, especially in the evenings and have no choice but to use candles. Third, we don’t have a drying machine to use. Actually we don’t even have a washing machine. Laundry is done manually in the kitchen sink which is a real pain. Air drying clothing is fine by me but hand washing all of you clothes gets old after the first pair of socks. I no longer take a washing machine for granted and I have a much greater respect for anyone who washes their own clothes.

Water is also akin to electricity. The water is regularly turned off, most commonly in the afternoon and evening which can make cooking dinner and doing dishes difficult. Last week I was in the middle of a shower when the water was shut off and I had to wash off the soap with cold water from a reserve bucket that we keep in the bathroom for emergencies such as that one. And flushing the toilet is only possible when we have water. We don’t have a dishwasher either, so dishes must be done my hand. Since we can only rise with boiled water (see the upcoming post on water), we are very careful to use as little a possible to save the extra effort of purifying more water.

Eating locally is just one of the benefits of living in a warm climate. Getting fresh local veggies here is always an option, unlike Minnesota where unless you want scurvy, you have no choice but to import your fruits and vegetables. Same is true for processed foods. Almost none of the foods here have more than five ingredients. No artificial flavor, no preservatives, no corn syrup, nothing. The food here in general is healthier.

Kermit must not have been an African dwarf frog because, Mr. Kermit, being green really is easy – especially in Africa.

Partly cloudy with a chance of rain

2009-10-27T12:28:00.000+03:00

The weather here is annoyingly unpredictable. The mornings when you wake up to a clear blue sky always seem to be the ones that end in a shower, and the days that start off gloomy, end up cheerfully sunny. Yesterday, I awoke to a clear sky. By nine, it was dark and dreary. It cleared up for lunch, but in the afternoon the sky clouded over again.

Having lived in Minnesota all my life, I’ve come to know its weather patterns. I can look up in the sky and say, “Its going to rain soon,” or notice a change in the winds and realize, “Its going to be cold tomorrow.” But here none of that applies.

Mt. Kilimanjaro, I have decided, is a cloud machine, or at least a cloud magnet. Most days, the view of the summit is entirely blocked by thick gray clouds. Only in the early mornings and evenings is it clear. Now, I should mention that these are no ordinary clouds. On a partially cloudy day, of which there are many, you can see the gigantic towering clouds that flock to the mountain. These are the types of clouds which you might only see on a humid spring day when huge thunderclouds loom on the horizon that hark the coming of a storm. Here they stand on their own as they drift up to the mountain and slowly merge together, blocking the setting sun.

On other days, the clouds cover the sky like waves on a frothy sea. Though their deep blue bellies look full of rain, they never seem to let it out. These clouds will loom ominously throughout the morning and suddenly dissipate in the afternoons, leaving behind little white puffs on a startlingly blue sky. These large, rolling clouds are always accompanied by strong winds that come sweeping up from the southeast.

And being the cloud magnet it is, Mt. Kilimanjaro tends to create its own microclimate. Because of the elevation, the slopes of the mountain are much cooler than the surrounding area. I think Mweka has a very agreeable temperature, but some at the college disagree. Its always funny when you see students walking around with woolen sweaters and winter fur-lined parkas. And thanks to its cloud-attractive properties the mountain’s slopes are blocked, for the most part, from the harsh rays of an equatorial sun . Having said that, do not doubt we lack warm sunshine. We just have less of it than other areas of Tanzania.

As the short rains are just beginning, there is an increasing frequency of cloud cover. The clouds though often don’t stick around for long. You never know when to pack an umbrella, as when it clouds up and you think it’s going to rain, the sky always seems to clear up and you wish you brought the sunscreen instead.

When it does rain, its because the clouds have descended on the mountain and consumed the slopes. The mist at times is so thick you would think yourself in the cloud, which you most likely are. As the clouds hug the mountain side, the temperature drops considerably and the rain beats down steadily. The rain is a constant drumming, only changing pace as it sharply wanes off. It can rain in the morning, or the evening, or the middle of the day. You only know its going to rain when you find yourself in a clouds and you can feel the first raindrops falling on your head.

Perhaps after nine months I will know the weather patters a little better, but for now I will just have to put on my sunscreen and remember to bring the umbrella.

These are a few of my favorite things

2009-10-25T11:19:00.002+03:00

Now that I have been here for over a month, I figured I could indulge in a list of things I miss. Here they are:

Friends and family (but that goes without saying)
Pets
Snow (but not the cold or the biting wind)
Carpet
Goldfish (not the live ones but the cracker snacks)
Granola bars
My mattress
Movies
Numb3rs
High speed internet
St. Peter Co-op granola
A properly functioning shower
Stereo
Public radio (Radio Lab and This American Life in particular)
National Geographic
A completely furnished kitchen
Microwave
Books
Wall outlets that all work
A good set of pens and pencils
Wall decorations
Clothing diversity (coming down, I didn’t really know what the temperature would be like – it’s colder and people dress more formally than I expected)
Pizza
Laundry Machine
Dishwasher
Constant electricity

Tune back in during May for ‘Things I Will Miss When I Go Home’.

Close Enough

2009-10-23T15:48:00.000+03:00

Tanzania is the land of approximation. The lifestyles, products and mindsets of Tanzania are all very approximate. What I mean is Tanzania proscribes a different set of ideals and protocol to its people and products.

For example, if you happen down to the lumber store in Tanzania you’re bound to find irregular boards and sheets of wood. The general shape is an approximation. Some boards might be thicker than others and some might not be entirely straight. On the other hand, the United States is a land of exactness. If you find yourself at Menards you will see that each 4x4 is exactly the same size, shape and color. New housing developments in the States are similarly exact. Each house is identical to its neighbor. Here, houses are much more unique. Americans pride themselves on individuality but in reality they crave a sense of order.

The state of the wood industry in Tanzania is mirrored in other businesses too. In the market place, ‘new’ products seem less than new and silverware sets are rarely matched. This makes a stark contrast to the neatly lined shelves of the traditional American department store. Marred merchandise in the States would be cast out where as a semi-crushed can of beans in Tanzania is commonplace.

Land is an additional approximation. Unlike the States, where if you set one foot on your neighbor’s perfectly manicured lawn you run the risk of giving the owner a hernia, Tanzania is very laid back about property boundaries. Goats are let out to graze where ever they can find food; it doesn’t matter if its on someone else’s property. Having lived in the Minnesotan countryside my whole life, it’s always startling to see people using our yard here as a shortcut to the football field or to scavenge fallen branches for firewood.

Though approximation may sound like a bad thing, it has a good side too. Time is another Tanzanian approximation. Americans are far too uptight about time. We rush around from school, to work, to run errands and to home. We cram every second with productivity. Tanzania, however, is much more laid back. Lunch at the college is an hour and a half – not unusual in this country. If you are late to a meeting, there is no problem – perhaps you stopped along the way to chat with an old friend. Life here is run at a much calmer pace.

Surprisingly enough, money is also an approximation in Tanzania. Tanzanians could never imagine being harked by IRS agents who think you’ve cheated eighteen cents out of your taxes. As I’ve previously mentioned, bartering is a must. No price is fixed. And I discovered the other day that that includes the grocery store. We had picked out our basket of groceries and had brought it up to the counter to check out. Though when the bill was totaled, we found ourselves several thousand shillings short. Since almost no shopkeepers takes any type of credit, debt or other cash card, we had to resort to taking something out of our basket. But before we could decide what to remove, one of the shopkeepers (there were at least seven of them, even though the store was only about the size of a Holiday gas station ‘Quik-Mart’) said “Eh, close enough.” I like that kind of approximation. (As a side note, everything in Tanzania is done with good old fashioned paper money. I much prefer this over the newfangled plastic money (credit cards etc.) except for the fact that the largest bill denomination seems to be only 10,000 shillings – less than eight US dollars. This requires the carrying around of large stacks of bills that tend to add up in thickness quite rapidly.)

Some of this approximation will take time to get use to (my mattress, a sad sheet of foam only a few inches thick, is a very rough approximation of the mattress I am used to.). Other approximations, namely time, are things that we could do a lot to learn from.

Can you hear me now?

2009-10-20T14:36:00.000+03:00

One thing I’ve noticed here is the surprising regularity of cell phones. In a developing nation one thing you would not expect to see is phones. But they are everywhere here. At the college most people seem to have them as do many in the city. And, as I’ve been told, the coverage is very good even in rural areas.

So we’ve joined the bandwagon. While in Arusha we got our own cell phones, which was an adventure in and of itself. The electronics store we went to had three large ceiling-to-floor cases of phones. From the very basic to the most advanced, they had them all. The cost of a phone in Tanzania is, for the most part, similar to the cost in the States, though it might be higher for some phones. As some of you will be happy to know, I’ve upgraded from my brick that could barely make calls to a fancy new phone that can do just about everything except clean the dishes. (It even has the Arabic alphabet in addition to the Latin one.)

But the similarities in phones end there. In Tanzania you don’t get a ‘plan’ with your phone. Instead you buy ‘credits’ as you need them. Once you’ve set up an account with a phone company, all you need to do is periodically by credits as you need them. Available in 1000, 2000 or 5000 shilling amounts(roughly $.77, $1.50 and $3.80), the credits can be bought nearly everywhere. They are sold at the open air bars you find everywhere down here and they are sold by vendors in the market place. Recently, I bought a credit from a cleaning lady at the college who in the middle of sweeping the sidewalk, pulled out some credits from her pocket to sell to me (which seems kind of black-market-like if you ask me). Though phones are as expensive as they are in the States, the cost to make a phone call or send a text message is much less.

Now I suppose I should explain these ‘credits’ in greater detail. The little cardboard squares look like the scratch card games you would buy from under the counter of a gas station. Printed on each is a number code which once programmed into your phone will provide you with that amount of credit good for talking or texting.

Computer Science 101

2009-10-17T14:35:00.002+03:00

While in Tanzania, I had a plan of volunteering. I thought I might be able to do some promotional photography for the college and volunteer at a local school. So last week I got started on finding where I could volunteer.

Starting to volunteer is not as easy a project as I had imagined. I quickly discovered there is a slow multistep process needed to volunteer. I first had to talk to someone at the college who could hook me up with a job. But or course this person is nearly impossible to find. Four out of the five times I went looking for him, he was not around. Once I finally contacted him, he told me I needed to talk to two other people. So off I went to scout them down. Finding them was not so hard and I was able to sit down with them and explain what I wanted to do. But it doesn’t end there. They told me that I needed to write a letter to the school asking if they needed a volunteer. So off I went to my computer to type up a letter. Having done and delivered that, someone needed to talk to the headmaster at the school for me. Mind you, this is all done at the leisurely pace of Tanzania.

Eventually I was able to talk to the headmaster himself. Now talking to some Tanzanians can be difficult. Eye contact is considered impolite in Tanzania for one thing, and many men just don’t know how to talk to women, especially a white one. On top of that, it is always hard to understand exactly what the Tanzanian is saying because of their accent.

I imagined that I could tutor perhaps math or English naturally. Evidently not. I was told straight away that I couldn’t tutor English because I had an American accent - they wouldn’t understand me. Never mind that English is my first language and I’ve spoken it all my life. Okay, that’s fine, I can tutor math then. Nope. We want you to teach computer science. You want me to what?

Yes they want me to teach of all things. I’m still not sure where they got such an outlandish idea. For starters I’ve just finished high school, second I don’t know the least about teaching in the States much less in Tanzania, and third I’ve never taken a computer class in my life. I think those are some good qualifications for teaching, don’t you? (Now if I can’t tutor English because of my accent, how do they expect me to teach computer science? There are a lot of things here that don’t make much sense.) The headmaster gave me the course syllabus and told me to come back the next week.

On Tuesday I found myself facing forty-odd students in the Nsoo Secondary School. The students are in Form I, which is the equivalent of 9th grade. The classroom is about half the size of a typical American classroom and is stuffed with twice the occupants on little wooden benches. There is just enough room at the front for the teacher to stand at the chalkboard.

When I first entered, the students all stood and in chorus said, “Welcome teacher. How are you today teacher?” Tanzanian school children are much better behaved than American students. They are taught to respect teachers from the start and don’t have the discipline issues that we do. Well, that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.

As I began teaching, I found it hard to assess their knowledge of computers. They knew their facts but have a hard time drawing conclusions and ‘thinking critically’. I found it even harder to know if they understood my English. When I asked if they understood, they responded in a programmed, “Yes teacher” but I have my doubts as to whether they really understood or not. At one point I was talking about data and asked the class if anyone could define data. No one answered. I turned to write it on the chalkboard and instantly they said, “Oh, you mean daata!” Evidently I hadn’t pronounced the word ‘data’ in the proper British manner with the long aah sound.

Assigning homework was a similarly difficult task. Since the students don’t have a textbook, I can’t assign any reading. And because they don’t know how to use computers yet (hence the class) and there is limited internet they can’t do much in the way of research. So I had to be creative and figure something out they could do with the resources they have.

There are only three more weeks left in the term so I have a lot to fit in. Tanzanian schools operate in a semester program with long breaks in between (school will resume in Mid-January).

And so begins my career in teaching.

Rain and Rugby

2009-10-15T15:51:00.000+03:00

This past weekend we went to a Rugby game in Moshi. Football (soccer) is the true game of Tanzania – and the world – but Rugby is gaining popularity. Introduced in Kenya during the colonial period it has since spread south and is becoming common in Tanzania.

So down the hill we went to Moshi. The international school in Moshi hosted the ‘Kili 7s’ tournament with teams from both Tanzania and Kenya. Two leagues competed to be Junior (school aged teams) and Senior (college aged teams) Champions. Imagine a field, or a ‘pitch’ if you will, much like an American football field. Now replace the grand stand and press box with acacia, jacaranda and other tropical trees.

The event lasted all day and was really rather interesting. Some of the ex-pats we met at the party were at the tournament and they taught us all about rugby. We added new words to our vocabulary like scrum, try, and knock-on. The game is played with seven players for two seven minute halves (hence the Kili 7s).

In short, rugby is like football. Football actually evolved out of rugby. In more detail, rugby is played with a ball much like a football if not a little more square-ish. The goal is the same at football – to get a touchdown. The difference is that you actually have to touch the ball to the ground to score a point and it’s not called a touchdown, it’s called a ‘try’. Yes, you’ve got it right, when you try in rugby you score a point. If that doesn’t make sense think about football – it’s called football but you hardly even use your feet.

For those of you who think American football is a tough game, you’ve apparently never seen a game of rugby. What makes rugby such a tough sport is the tackling, like football, but they do it with only mouth guards. No helmets, no shoulder pads, nothing. Although unlike football, rugby is more about getting the ball than it is about tackling the other team. In rugby, you are only allowed to tackle the person with the ball and you cannot grab, push, shove or otherwise hamper the other player’s movement. An additional hardship is that the game is nonstop. Although seven minutes might not sound like much, imagine running around a pitch, tackling and getting tackled without pause for seven whole minutes. American football seems to stop at least once every two minutes and has multiple player replacements (rugby only allows for three substitutions at most).

Other than that, the two games are quite similar. After a try for five points, the scorer has the opportunity for a goal kick as in football for an additional two points. Something I found really interesting is what happens after the ball goes out of bounds. When the ball is thrown back in, two teammates lift a third teammate up into the air so that he/she can grab the ball without interference from the other team. I say he/she because of all the teams there was one female player. Anne goes to the international school in Moshi and, if you remember, is the same person we gave a lift to after the party.

The teams at the tournament came from a wide range of backgrounds. Some were university teams, one was from the international school and some were from orphanages or centers for street children. For those of you who think that your school equipment is bad, consider this: teams had matching jerseys, but different shorts. And most of the jerseys looked like they had seen more games than Atlantis has fish. Even more surprising, some of the teams played barefoot. And the few pairs of shoes there were, got shared depending on who was playing. We used to complain in track that our uniforms were terrible and that we never had the right pole vaulting equipment (which I still maintain we don’t) but I can hardly complain anymore after seeing rugby players without shoes.

So we hung out all day in our borrowed lawn chairs watching rugby and chatting with other spectators. The morning promised to be warm and sunny but by early afternoon, the clouds started to roll in. All of the rugby players were hoping for rain because real rugby can only be played in the rain on a muddy pitch. All of the spectators, though, were fervently hoping not to be caught in a downpour. Luckily for us, the rain held off just long enough. As the trophies were handed out ( if you were wondering, the international school won the junior competition) it started to rain lightly and we hopped back in our blue land rover to drive back to Mweka before it could rain harder. And so the rainy season has begun.

Slow Computer Movement

2009-10-13T15:52:00.000+03:00

Today I have a special guest speaker, or columnist rather, for you. Here is the one and only Professor Cindy. . .

Everyone who has used a computer is familiar with the little bars that run across the screen in a rectangular box to indicate that your computer is processing a command to send an email or find a website. Or maybe you have a little string of dots that circle continuously until the connection is made. Without looking can you tell what color those bars are that move across the screen? Or which way do the dots circle, clockwise or counterclockwise? If you don’t know you are one of the privileged folks who has such a fast connection to the World Wide Web that you don’t even ponder this. Faster and faster connectivity and information at our fingertips is something many of us have become dependent on and generally take for granted.

Remember back in the day when we were excited to have such a thing called Internet. We could send electronic messages by simply pushing a button. Slow wasn’t an issue, just the very fact that we could do such a thing was a marvel. Human ingenuity…. faster is always better … or is it?

A Fulbright Scholar, I now reside in Mweka, Tanzania. I have all the modern conveniences; running water, electricity and computer connectivity. With the click of a mouse I can send an email to colleagues in the US or surf the net. Well, that is if the server is working and the electricity hasn’t missed a beat. These days I find myself clicking the mouse and waiting. Yeah waiting. No, I don’t mean the annoying finger tapping impatient waiting when connections are slow or the server bogged down. I mean wait. Sit back and contemplate life wait. No use being in a rush wait. This kind of wait looms with possibilities.

‘Connection timed out’ means click the refresh button and wait. Wait for the little bars to connect. Smarter than the average computer, I open up multiple windows and get them all waiting. I watch lots of bars prance across my computer…waiting. Surfing here is attempting to dance the jitterbug to a waltz; possible it just requires a different frame of reference.

What do you think of while waiting for a computer to respond to the command you have cast on the internet waters? The bars briefly march across the page and viola you have connected to your bank, the latest news or countless websites. Perhaps you were thinking about passwords or something else, but it likely wasn’t a consciously thoughtful wait. Imagine now the possibilities if you had a longer wait. Oh, the things you could think and do between marching bars! Time to read scholarly articles, time to compose emails off-line, time to make a phone call and perhaps time to write articles like this.

Perhaps you’ve heard of the Slow Food Movement. Eating your food slowly allows you to savor all aspects of foods’ social and nutritional sustenance. Likewise the newly convened Slow Computer Movement (this is the inaugural introductory invitation to join) allows you to capture the time lost computing and put it to good use. Think of all the nanoseconds you have wasted waiting for the computer to respond, watching little bars prance across the screen.

The next time you find yourself watching the bars or circle take a moment to reflect on what a marvel it is to send messages and surf the net. The Slow Computer Movement (SCM) is about appreciating and savoring computers and connectivity. The core values of the SCM are patience, gratitude and good humor (tolerance). I f you find yourself wolfing down websites, impatient with even the slightest of delays and little or no gratitude for the technology wizards that keep us connected than you must join the SCM.

Benefits of SCM include:

· Increased productivity (less useless surfing)

· Increased quality of relationships (more time face to face; fewer hastily cast emails)

· Greater appreciation for technology and the role it plays in our lives.

· Time to enjoy slow foods

· Improved mental health, attitude and outlook on life

Remember the core values of SCM. When you have fully attained these values you are a member in good standing of the Slow Computer Movement. So sit back, pick up a book (remember those?) and wait. Maybe you can even enjoy some slow foods while enjoying your slow computer. Hamna shida (no worries in Kswahili) will become your mantra.

Lest you think this is a critique of the slow computing system of Tanzania, you are dead wrong. It is instead an appreciation for all that we have in the US for computing, most of which we take for granted. So instead of impatience when the bars march too slowly, consider the wonder of being able to email across the world in nanoseconds and perhaps relax enough to allow space in your being for patience, gratitude and good humor.

Written slowly and sent in nanoseconds via the internet… amazing.

The sky is falling!

2009-10-11T15:30:00.001+03:00

Ka-boom! come the noises in the evening. Another bowling ball lands on our roof. The loud noises echo through our open house and are only enhanced by the sloping metal roof.

The first few times, you jump and say, “What was that?”. After a while you get more curious and really wonder, “What could that be?”. But the sun has already set and as hard as you peer into the darkness, you’re not going to be able to identify the noisemaker. Nonetheless, you hop over to the window, nose pressed against the glass, looking for anything conspicuous.

You’ve noticed, it only really happens after dark and coincides with the blowing of the wind. It must be something falling. The sky must be falling! No, that couldn’t be. Must be something falling out of the trees. You’ve surmised that much, but haven’t really figured out the details.

After a while the sounds, though still as loud, become less interesting. You original curiosity is replaced by a milder, “Oh, I wonder what is making that sound.”

A few days later someone clues you in on the truth. The culprits are either bush babies (gelagos), monkeys or bats munching on an evening snack in the mahogany tree next to your house. Inevitably some pods fall on your roof which makes quite a ruckus. Some of the louder noises are made by falling avocadoes sent down by a clumsy diner. Occasionally though, it is just the evening breeze that sends a fruit crashing down on the roof.

One of the culprits at work . . .

Home, Sweet Home

2009-10-08T14:24:00.001+03:00

We have now been living in our quaint little home for two weeks. Sparse though it is, it is quite nice. As you can see here in this lovely picture, we are near Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Here is a more accurate representation of out house… (no we don’t have giraffes in our backyard)

This is the college campus. The building you can see in the foreground is the main lecture hall and administration offices. The other classrooms, offices, dorms and library mostly lie father back. We live just a football field (that’s a soccer field to you Yankees) away from the campus. Mt. Kilimanjaro makes for quite a view when it it visible. In fact, I can see it out my window when the sky is clear.

(This a picture out my window of Kili. No, I don’t live in jail. All of the windows in the house come with lovely, sight-blocking metal bars.)

(Notice our beautiful new Land Rover)

Our house consists of two bedrooms, a spacious living room, a tiny bathroom, a kitchen and a dinning room.

As you can see, our walls are in need of some decoration. The entire house is a rather unbecoming shade of yellow, though I shouldn’t complain because it could have been off white or puke green. Although we have bare light bulbs protruding from the walls and our furniture could easily pass a patio chairs in the States, our home is comfortable enough.

You may have noticed the bug nets over the beds (if you hadn’t, look again). These are both a hindrance and a comfort. They make it difficult to make your bed and move about, but once you’re all tucked in, its nice to know that you won’t have to be swatting potentially disease ridden mosquitoes all night.

Other multi-legged visitors to our home often include geckos. These cute little milk-white critters always have a way of finding their way into my room. They seem to like to hang out high up on the corner of the wall near the ceiling. Because if their speed, and wiggling movements, and high hiding places they are most difficult to catch and so we have decided to leave them and eat whatever bugs they wish.

My favorite part about the house is the locks. Not because I’m afraid of our safety or anything like that but because of the kind of locks we have. I’m proud to say that you need a good old fashioned skeleton key to get into our house. Actually, many of the buildings around here require skeleton keys, something I find rather endearing. As far as safety is concerned, there really is no concern here. The college is gated and the premises are completely safe.

As for our yard, in the front we have a small corn field planted by the house’s previous occupant and in the back a few banana trees and an avocado tree from which many have fallen. Hopefully we’ll have some fresh bananas soon.

And that concludes the tour of our home. If you would like a more detailed look at our house, you’ll just have to come visit!

Over the bridge and through the banana fields to Arusha we shall go…

2009-10-02T10:43:00.000+03:00

On our drives to and from Arusha we have gotten to see a lot of the landscape of this area. Though it only takes about 90 minutes to there is a high diversity in the environment.

Mweka is on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro at an elevation of 1400 metres. The landscape is lush up here, fed by the spring and rivers of melting snow of the mountain. Many people in the village grow bananas but there are also fields of corn and beans. And added benefit of the elevation is the cool temperatures that you won’t find anywhere else in Tanzania.

As you head down to Moshi, early on there are several coffee plantations with, as I have been told, the best coffee beans in Tanzania.

Moshi, at 1000 meters, is already quite different than Mweka. Banana farms and tall fig trees give way to corn fields and short, spare acacia trees. It is harvesting time here as it is in Minnesota, though here it is done with machetes instead of machines. The corn stalks are saved and used for cattle feed. The stalks can be seen carted along the road, piled higher than a car on tiny carts pulled by donkeys.

Past Moshi, the landscape becomes even drier. We are nearing the end of the dry season, but this year has been abnormally dry and everyone is hoping for an El Niño to bring extra rains. The short rains will come within a month or so and stay until late December. Then there will be another dry season until the long rains come in March for about three months.

Along the road to Arusha, there is an expanse of flat, parched land that extends to either horizon where you can see low hills though the haze of the heat. Low scrub and short acacia trees dot the landscape. One room mud or cinderblock huts with corrugated metal roofs are interspersed among the trees. Many of them are only the size of some American’s living rooms.

The dirt of Tanzania is unlike the rich dark brown soil of southern Minnesota. Here the dirt is a heavy reddish brown that is prone to packing down. Because it is so dry here, the dust is everywhere, covering everything in a fine red-brown film.

The farther from Moshi you get, the drier the land gets. Corn fields give way to open pasture land if you could call it that. Young boys watch over herds of goats and cattle that graze on what dry scrub is left. As the herds are driven along, big cloud of dust rise behind them.

Nearer to Arusha, dust devils frequent the landscape. Swirling vortexes of dust rise high up into the air. Some of them are skinny and tall, others fatter, and some are gigantic. The ones that get really big can even be deadly if you are not careful. Dust devils are one of the signs that the rains are coming.

Just outside of Arusha, the landscape subtly becomes lush again. Because it is in the rain shadow of Mt. Meru, Arusha has an environment more like Moshi. More trees start to show up and small creeks run through deep valleys. Once I sat two vervet monkeys in a tree along the road. The jacaranda trees are in bloom now, another sign that the rains are coming. The jacaranda trees deserve special attention because of their beauty. When in bloom, the trees loose all of their leaves and are covered in millions of small purple blossoms. There are so many flowers that it looks like the trees have purple leaves. An additional sign of the coming rains are leaves on baobab trees. Despite Mt. Meru, Arusha is still drier than Mweka.

The last notable thing about landscapes is less about the environment and more about people. Everywhere people walk along the road with baskets on their heads (quite a remarkable feat of balance if you ask me) or cattle at their side. In the States, no one walks anymore, but here most people don’t have cars or bicycles. As a result, everyone walks and the roads get especially full with pedestrians in the evenings as people get done with work.

Party!

2009-09-29T16:46:00.002+03:00

On Sunday we headed back to Arusha to get our new car and to go to a birthday party.

Our friends, the Petersons, live just outside of Arusha where they run their Dorobo Safari company. My mom has led January Term trips for college students with them before and is how we know them. The company is run by the three brothers and their families. It was one of the brother’s son’s birthdays and so a birthday party was held for him and his girlfriend who also had a recent birthday.

To preface this introduction, I should tell you that Arusha is the big ‘tourist’ town as most visitors come here to go on various safaris and expeditions. Because of that market there happen to be a lot of expatriates living in the area. The Petersons were really the first to live in the area and since they moved in and increasing number of people have come to live around them.

With that in mind you can begin to imagine the party we went to. Though set to a background of acacia trees and African birds it was similar to a party you might find in the States. It was a very non-African party. American music blared through the speakers and multicolored balloons hung from trees. Food was potluck, served buffet style the only difference being the whole goat roasted outside on a spit. There was even a pool complete with splashing children. One difference from American parties was that this party held a complete range of ages who all talked and mingled despite this difference. Another difference is that there is no real drinking age in Tanzania and many of the older children were drinking, though admittedly there are underage drinkers in the States.

Early on during the party I played a game of volleyball with some fierce competitors of all ages. The game was identical to the one I had played for gym class except for one thing. Acacia trees, as you may or may not know, are the staple tree of Africa and come with inch long thorns along the branches. So to play volleyball in Tanzania you need a special kind of ball that will not deflate every time (which is a lot of times) it gets punctured with an acacia thorn. To get around this issue, volleyballs are ingeniously filled with an inner layer of gel to protect them. This makes the balls much heavier but works quite effectively.

At the birthday party we met a lot of different people. They all either guide safaris, teach at an international school or manage a business (such as exporting flowers) or are married or children of someone in one of those categories. This was really the first time since we’ve arrived in Tanzania that we have seen and talked to other white people. When you have been surrounded by people with thick accents, listening becomes a tiring chore and to be around people who’s first language is English was a nice change. It was also nice to be around people who have gone through what we are going though now. Right now we are struggling with learning Swahili (which isn’t as easy a language to learn as everyone says it is) and getting adjusted to the cultural differences. All of the people at he party had gone through that at one time or another and it was reassuring to know that others have done it. Also, usually being the only white people around for miles, we tend to get stared at and it was nice to be out of that kind of situation.

The beginning is, as always, a difficult time. We haven’t totally settled in yet and our Swahili skills are near non-existent. I don’t really know what I will be doing yet so there isn’t a lot to do. We are also very dependant on other people right now which is not entirely bad. For example, even doing things like getting groceries is hard to do alone. So far we’ve had someone go with us to the market so they could haggle and get a good price. It is hard right now but hopefully within a month we will be on our feet and more independent.

The real reason for our trip to Arusha was to pick up our new car – a 1994 Land Rover complete with rosary beads and fringes off the dashboard. Though it’s old its quite nice and will do well this year.

After staying overnight we gave Anne, on of the Peterson brother’s daughter, a lift to the international boarding school in Moshi where she goes to school. She helped us navigate Arusha and gave us many tips for driving. But there is so much to be said about driving here that I’ll have to leave that topic for another time.

This little piggy went to the market

2009-09-25T15:51:00.001+03:00

One of the first orders of business after arriving in Mweka was to go shopping. Although we were provided with furniture, plates and cups, we had no towels, silverware and other such household items. So off we went to Arusha.

In Tanzania you won’t find any department stores or shopping malls. Shopping is done, for the most part, in large open air marketplaces. Stalls packed with merchandise fill the streets and people come from all around to sell their wares. At the market you can find everything from fruit and vegetables to pillows and Tupperware.

In comparison with the States, some things are very expensive and some things are very cheap. For instance, at the market you can buy ten oranges for only 1000/: (one thousand shillings is about 77 cents). And they are very good, fresh oranges too! On the other hand, electronics like computers are much more expensive than they are in the States.

Unlike in the States, shopping in Tanzania requires bargaining. Vendors quote a high price (especially to foreigners) initially and bartering is required. Haggling is found even in stores like the ones found in the States. For example when we went to a store to buy a cooker (a sort of mini oven with burners) the price was negotiated down from the initial price tag. In Tanzania there are few fixed prices. Luckily for us mzungu (white person, tourist) we had someone from the college with us to help. Since we don’t know general prices or Swahili yet, Betsy was very helpful in assisting us.

The one exception to the bargaining rule is grocery stores. There, prices are fixed like they are in the States. But a Tanzanian Shop Rite is still different than a St. Peterian Econo Foods. There is not near the selection in Tanzania as there is in the States and the shelves are not packed and fully in stock. Another noticeable difference is milk. Here it comes in small rectangular containers and is not refrigerated. Also, some items (like bread) are not as fresh as they would be in the States.

Although I do like the Tanzanian markets it will take some time to get used to the bartering.

We’re not in Kansas anymore…

2009-09-25T15:49:00.001+03:00

After many hours of airtime, several security checkpoints and tasteless airline food we find ourselves far from the rolling hills of corn and soybeans in Southern Minnesota. But I should start at the beginning.

On Friday we left in the afternoon with six large duffle bags and two carry-ons from the Minneapolis airport. From there we flew to Amsterdam via Northwest. The fight was long but manageable. In flight movies and a window seat make time fly. We arrived in Amsterdam early in the morning and had a three hour layover until our next flight to Kilimanjaro airport in Tanzania. For the second leg of the journey we flew KLM, which you should fly if you ever have the option (They have good food and comfy seats). Now although airline food - like school food - has a bad reputation, it really isn’t all that bad. When you’ve been on an enormous hunk of metal flying 30,000 feet up for 5 hours, chicken and pasta eaten with plastic forks and knives can taste really good.

And so we arrived in Tanzania at 8.00 pm the next day. The Kilimanjaro airport is an experience in and of itself. There are no boardwalks to the terminals, merely staircases lined up against the aircraft from which you have to walk across the tarmac to the airport. The first thing you notice when you step of the plane is the smell. Africa, or at least Tanzania, has a unique scent. It is musky and smoky yet light and sweet. It is a scent unlike any other that I will always remember.

Inside the terminal, you are crammed back together with all the 100+ people you just spent the last eight hours with to get visas and go through customs. (For now we have visitors’ visas but we will be going to Dar es Salaam soon to apply for residential visas.)

After we had claimed all six fifty pound bags we headed out to meet whoever was there to greet us. Three people (a lecturer, a secretary and a driver) from the college were there to help us with our baggage and drive us to Mweka. It takes about an hour to get to the Mweka Wildlife College where we will be staying for the next nine months. Unfortunately, we couldn’t see much of the landscape because it was dark, but the drive was good nonetheless and everyone was very nice. By the time we arrived at the college it was late and were tired. The next day we would meet everyone and get oriented.

And so, Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore. The next nine months will be an interesting adventure indeed.

Since we have arrived I have learned that the internet (or intranet as some here say) is iffy. I will be writing regularly, but only publishing as I have connectivity. I encourage both of you who are reading this to become followers if you wish so that you can receive notices when I publish something new. I also want this to go both ways. Don’t be afraid to comment, ask questions or just tell me what is happening in the States – I’d love to hear and I’ll respond if I can.

T – 24hrs

2009-09-18T01:00:00.001+03:00

There are officially 24 hours left until our departure. Tomorrow we leave from the Minneapolis airport bound first for Amsterdam and then for Kilimanjaro airport in Tanzania. The flight is a long one – we will land some 24 hours after we depart from the Twin Cities.

Once in Tanzania we will have our own house and car (see picture) and, with any luck, someone will be at the airport to pick us up.

For now, we have our tickets (I have a window seat!), passports and the rest is being assembled. We have been running around the past few days finding camera batteries and matching socks. We should have everything we need. the trick is being able to locate all of those things. Hopefully everything will be packed by tomorrow morning. . . .

Packing

2009-08-19T19:57:00.003+03:00

Remember the last time you went on a family vacation? You were gone for a week or two at most. And remember dashing around in the preceding week, getting every thing in order and making sure you didn't forget any essentials like camera batteries or pajamas? Now multiply your anxiety and frantic-ness by ten and you'll get our situation.

Packing for nine months is a daunting endeavor to say the least. It's hard to get enough momentum to begin and then when you do, you realize how much work you have. You begin with the essentials like clothing and work towards other things like books and crafts. By the time you have everything in an unshapely pile in the corner of a room you realize it's not all going to fit into three large duffel bags.

And so we have begun. Just today we have started a 'pre-pack' to see that we have all our essentials and make sure everything is going to fit. Hopefully we'll have everything in order before we leave.

FYI

2009-08-18T20:11:00.000+03:00

Karibu! (Welcome!) For those of you who don't know what we'll be up to this year, here are the details.

My mom and I will be spending the next nine months in Tanzania. She has received a Fullbright scholarship which allows her to teach and research abroad for a year. The timing was perfect for me to take a gap year as I graduated this past spring.

We will be living in Mweka, a small town in northern Tanzania. Mweka is situated near Mt. Kilimanjaro so the weather will be cooler thanks to the higher altitude. Mweka is also home to the College of African Wildlife Management, where my mom will be teaching.

During the year I will be persuing volunteer options in the area such as teaching children English along with keeping this blog updated with our latest stories and adventures.

Jambo!

2009-07-22T23:25:00.003+03:00

Hello! Welcome to the new, and currently unexciting, blog of Tanzania. I'm now in preparation for departure which will be in mid-September, so there won't be much here until after the 15th. Until then, enjoy the lovely background....