It's hard to believe another week has gone by already. After I posted my last blog post, I split up with my girls and braved the city of Arusha all by myself. They were headed to a market, and I decided I was finally confident enough to spend some time wandering solo. The city really is pretty chaotic, so I was quite pleased to find that I was acclimating to things as quickly as I was. Crowded, polluted, smelly at times, lots of commotion and plenty of unwanted attention... not to mention the traffic, which is a whole 'nother level of crazy. I made some small purchases and tested my Swahili in a few shops, which really helped boost my overall confidence. One flycatcher began following me for a while, who told me his name was "Pili Pili" (which is Tanzanian hot sauce), and I was only able to shake him off by ducking into Africafe-- Arusha's version of Starbucks. Very posh in comparison to it's surroundings, and a very established "mzungu" hangout, Africafe is complete with American style breakfasts, coffee that is actually brewed (as opposed to instant), and sit down toilets! Pili Pili left me at the door, and I was saved.
Saturday night was actually a blast. Ebony's lack of control in talking to strangers paid off when she met an American woman at a local market some weeks ago-- the woman apparently had a very nice house in Sekina and had planned to go out of town that weekend... so she gave Ebony the keys! It was like a vacation, complete with showers, a kitchen with a gas stove and running water (as opposed to wood fire stoves and bucket baths in our homestays), an MP3 player and DVD player, the works. This was more of a treat for the girls who had been here a while, but it was lots of fun cooking and bonding as a group. We stopped at a local stand and bought a giant mango, a pineapple, 10 tomatoes, an onion, bell pepper, and a few carrots, all for 2,000 tsh (less than $1.50 USD). Hallelujah, we seriously had a feast. After a lazy morning the next day I took a dala dala back to my homestay where Karen helped me do my laundry by hand. As soon as we hung it up to dry it began to pour of course, so the next day I packed a sack of wet clothes for my first village training.
We met at the GSC office on Monday morning and set off for Longido. GSC partners with two organizations- Partners for Development (PFD) and the Canadian Food Grains Bank (CFGB). So when we volunteers head out to a village, which we do virtually every week, we are with one of the two. Molly and I were assigned Longido village with PFD, and I learned that we were assigned to do a follow up training in no-till agriculture. As you might remember, my orientation week was spent learning BIA agriculture. Well, apparently I did my entire training with CFGB, and they do BIA. So Monday morning I found myself headed to a village to teach something I had no prior knowledge of. Yes, a little uncomfortable.
GSC also recruits local college interns to act as translators for us volunteers who do not speak Swahili. Molly and I each had one intern, who also had no prior knowledge of the material. This week turned out to be a little tricky, because our village was almost entirely populated with Masaai people, very traditional herdspeople who have no history with farming... and don't speak Swahili. I became very nervous at the thought of teaching something I knew very little about, to people who I knew very little about. Our first day, we met the group of Masaai women (no men, which is apparently common) and set a time to meet the following day. This process was entirely in Swahili, translated into Masaai. My "translator" didn't take much of an interest in me and I was pretty much lost the entire time.
The following day I learned that we usually do some classroom sessions at the begining, but since the women only speak Masaai, we would spend the week doing practicals... over, and over again. No-till agriculture is extremely simple, and in my opinion the best option for Masaai people. As you might have guessed, you don't have to till the soil, so it makes sense if you have a lot of land (double digging a field, as BIA has you do with garden beds, would be impossible) and it requires little construction or maintenance. An introduction to farming, perhaps. The woman from PFD who was with me to lead the trainings, Ana, is probably my age or slightly older, and a very competetive person. I learned very quickly that I was there to observe and lend a hand digging holes when it was convenient. She taught the trainings entirely in Swahili, and if I wanted to know anything that was going on... let alone the concepts behind this style of ag... I better know how to ask questions. It was completely disheartening. Many times I would ask to help, and she would brush me off and say, "No, I'm not tired yet." She clearly considered me to be more of a burden than a help. My "counterpart," the intern, quickly turned on the Tanzanian machismo attitude and spent the training barking orders either at me or the Masaai women, or "fixing" the inferior holes we had dug.
The rest of the week looked a lot like this. Thursday Ana left for the training without me, which they do at different participants' houses, so I stayed behind in the village to do the food drying training with Molly and PFD staffmember Tom. It was a great day for them- the participants showed a lot of interest and a bit of a crowd developed as they were building two new food dryers mostly out of local material. The idea here is to be able to preserve food from the rainy season to rehydrate and use during the dry season. We dried carrots, greens, onions, and potatoes beautifully.
I was incredibly grateful for Molly to show me the ropes and teach me how she's learned to cope with the program's issues. It was interesting for her to hear my thoughts as I go through it for the first time, because she hadn't realized how much she had just gotten used to being neglected. We would often get frustrated that even though everyone with PFD speaks English, it was never spoken during down time or meals, so we began speaking Spanish together as an outlet to have our own private conversations. It turns out Molly had studied Spanish for as long as I did through school, so we've had a lot of fun speaking a combination of Swahili and Spanish.
The other thing that hugely impacted my experience was the warmth of the Masaai women. I had been told that the Masaai can be much more reluctant to receive us and our trainings, because they are historically pastoralists, so I wasn't sure what the attitudes of the participants would be like. I think I must have had a lost puppy dog look going on... I was so obviously out of my element that they seemed to fall in love with me, even though we did not speak the same language. A couple women in particular would greet me (and only me) with giant hugs in the morning. At the end of a training on the second day, one woman insisted that I stay for chai, while all the other women and PFD crew waited. She then took my water bottle from my hand, placed a simple wire ring on my finger, and held my hand the 20 minute or so walk back to our meeting place. They were all remarkably sweet and welcoming, it was so touching. By Friday I had developed this really bizarre outbreak of itchy red bumps around my right wrist, and all the mamas fussed over them and rubbed them throughout the day. They remain pleasantly itchy today, and I think I may have spotted a couple new ones, so I am afraid it might be a reaction to something about that ring. Quite disappointing, because I love it so much, but I'm hoping to figure it out quickly because they're killing me!!
Sadly, this weekend is Ebony's last couple days here in Tanzania, so we're doin it up big time. This morning Molly's friend Rogers took us on a guided hike on Mount Meru, which led us to Napuru Waterfall in the middle of the rainforest-- breathtaking. We munched on some wild red berries he showed us were edible on the way there and back, and had lunch at his mama's house on the way down, which was in the middle of their shamba (farm). Really sweet people. Tonight we're going out for drinks, and tomorrow we'll go to a circus that's in town!
So all in all, the week had it's ups and downs. This all comes wrapped up in the package of plopping down in a foreign culture and way of life, so I'm setting out to learn how to deal. While I do think some of the issues with my program are things that should be discussed with the appropriate people to handle them, I also know that I will encounter all kinds of clashing personalities and organizational idiosyncrasies no matter where I travel on this earth, so it's my job to learn and grow as a human and figure out how to handle all types of situations appropriately.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
This is Africa...
After wrestling with this newfangled blogging technology, I am finally ready to enter my first post with a meager 10 minutes left at the internet cafe, Hot Bread Shop. I will attempt to journal my overseas adventures from Africa and beyond, and hopefully keep those who are interested informed of my experiences!
Okay, I caved-- just bought one more hour, to do this thing right!
I am coming to the end of my first week in Tanzania. I am volunteering around the Arusha region with NGO Global Service Corps, helping with sustainable agriculture based projects. It has been an intense week... life here is dramatically different in what seems to be every way possible from what I am used to. However, this is the best part about traveling! Experiencing new ways of living, learning new ideas, forming new relationships, and maybe even learning a new language... pole pole... (slowly!)
I arrived on Sunday night at Kilimanjaro Airport. It had been a long journey of nearly 30 hours and I was glad to have arrived! I was greeted by a far off lightning storm that offered glimpses of my new country, which was otherwise shrouded in mysterious darkness. After being picked up by a GSC staff member, we made our way to Center House Hostel. I could make out people walking along side the road (which quickly turned from pavement to dirt), a group of donkeys, scattered buildings and lots and lots of sky. It was the shortest 45 minute drive I've ever been on. When we arrived at the hostel, I was shown to my room, where I would only stay for my first 3 days of orientation, before moving into my homestay. It was simple: Concrete floors and walls, a bed with a mosquito net, a sink with a small square mirror, table and chair, and an unsanded, unfinished, wobbly plywood closet with beads of dried sap on the outside.
I think I woke up every 2 hours or so that night. I was hyper sensitive to sounds-- plus, a downpour began shortly after I arrived, which contributed to the noise. (Thus begins the rainy season!) I got up easily at around 6am, sorted through some of my things, and had breakfast at the dining area in the hostel. Black tea ("chai"), with white toast and an egg. This was the routine for my first few days. I would be picked up after that and taken to the GSC office, where I had Swahili lessons, followed by various introductory sessions with staff. My program only includes 3 Swahili lessons, so I am planning to follow up with my teacher, Godson, for some private lessons once I get a little better situated.
On Wednesday, I finally met my homestay family. The matriarchs of Tanzanian families typically go by Mama, followed by their last name, or the first name of their first born child. Mama Chaulla met me at the Hostel and we shared a soda while waiting for the taxi to take us home (it was raining-- again). Mama Chaulla has 6 adult children, and as far as I can tell, lives with her granddaughter Karen and her parents. I say I can't tell for sure because lots of family members are in and out all the time! They are all so nice and welcoming to me. Karen is 13 and speaks English very well. She also loves the fact that I speak Spanish, so we frequently spend our evenings exchanging Spanish lessons for Swahili lessons. She asked me last night if I had any English storybooks for her to practice English with, so I offered her what I could-- a few Rolling Stone magazines. (Thanks, Dan!) I told her they'd be a little hard, but she loved the pictures of musicians and celebrities. She's a big Nicki Minaj fan. She especially loved the Ralph Lauren cologne samples.
Mama reminds me so much of my Grandma Lorene. It's really comforting actually... if I think about it too much, it nearly brings me to tears. She is a short woman with similar facial features, very sweet and welcoming, and humms to herself while putzing around the house in exactly the same way Grandma used to. She has a similar sense of humor, too. It is customary to call out, "Hodi" before entering a house, which asks if you may enter. The response, then, it "Karibu!", "Welcome!" One night I was helping with dinner (chips and beans... like chili fries! Yum!!) and Mama's adult son and daughter were knocking in the rain, calling, "Hodi, Hodi!" She casually responds, "Hapana! Hapana!!" Which means, "No!!" Then giggles to herself and continues chopping potatoes.
There was some drama at the house, though. The homestays are required to provide volunteers a room with a lock, so before I left the house on my first day there, I contemplated whether or not it would be necessary to also lock my luggage. I decided not to, but took note of the way that the zipper got caught on a scarf inside my suitcase as I closed it. Well, when I returned home, my room was still locked... but I immediately noticed that the zipper to my suitcase was nicely zipped all the way around, caught on nothing. Shit! I looked around inside. 50,000 Tanzanian shillings missing, as well as a big bag of Luna bars and vegan jerkey I had brought from home. I felt SO uncomfortable, and so upset. I called Daphne at the GSC office, and she asked to speak to my mama. Mama was shocked. She explained that the last volunteer lost the spare key to the room long ago, so there was only one. It simply was not possible. She poured me some tea and we sat together and tried to figure out what happened. Mama Chaulla has been hosting volunteers for many years, and there has never been a problem, so this was quite troubling. She was so upset. I knew she had nothing to do with it, and I really liked the family, so I decided to stay under the condition that the change the lock. We both seemed to understand that we were both sorry for the trouble. She insisted on paying me back the money that was missing, but I said no. The next day, on my way out, I found a Luna bar wrapper and a vegan jerkey wrapper on the ground in the complex. Bastards! I showed Mama, and she felt terrible. I'm quite sure that the last volunteer lost the key because someone (perhaps one of the many kids in the complex?) took it. But, I now have a new key, but I also lock my luggage while I'm not home.
As for volunteering, I began my BIA training toward the end of this week. (That's Bio-Intensive Agriculture, and organic method of farming that helps to increase yield and thus increase food security) I had a few classroom sessions with William, a teacher at a local farming/livestock institute, and got to do some practical work at the GSC demonstration plot with another trainer, Ediltruda. She is an incredible woman! Sweet, positive, happy to teach, and incredibly strong and hard working. The first day in the field we made a compost head, and our second day we dug a 7 meter long garden bed. That means, dug the entire bed one-foot deep to help loosen and airate the soil, in addition to adding compost. That is astonishingly hard work! Ediltruda made me and my fellow volunteer Ebony look like chumps! Hey, I welcome the opportunity to be humbled... and I'm sure it won't be the last. My arms are aching and sunburnt today. Come on milk box muscles!!
I now have to close as I am running out of time. Next week we are doing a follow-up in a nearby village, where we'll camp for the week because it won't be practical to return to Arusha each day. I will plan to update again next weekend. Thank you to all who have sent me love and encouragement through Facebook and email, it means a lot to me! Until next time... Kwaherini!
Okay, I caved-- just bought one more hour, to do this thing right!
I am coming to the end of my first week in Tanzania. I am volunteering around the Arusha region with NGO Global Service Corps, helping with sustainable agriculture based projects. It has been an intense week... life here is dramatically different in what seems to be every way possible from what I am used to. However, this is the best part about traveling! Experiencing new ways of living, learning new ideas, forming new relationships, and maybe even learning a new language... pole pole... (slowly!)
I arrived on Sunday night at Kilimanjaro Airport. It had been a long journey of nearly 30 hours and I was glad to have arrived! I was greeted by a far off lightning storm that offered glimpses of my new country, which was otherwise shrouded in mysterious darkness. After being picked up by a GSC staff member, we made our way to Center House Hostel. I could make out people walking along side the road (which quickly turned from pavement to dirt), a group of donkeys, scattered buildings and lots and lots of sky. It was the shortest 45 minute drive I've ever been on. When we arrived at the hostel, I was shown to my room, where I would only stay for my first 3 days of orientation, before moving into my homestay. It was simple: Concrete floors and walls, a bed with a mosquito net, a sink with a small square mirror, table and chair, and an unsanded, unfinished, wobbly plywood closet with beads of dried sap on the outside.
I think I woke up every 2 hours or so that night. I was hyper sensitive to sounds-- plus, a downpour began shortly after I arrived, which contributed to the noise. (Thus begins the rainy season!) I got up easily at around 6am, sorted through some of my things, and had breakfast at the dining area in the hostel. Black tea ("chai"), with white toast and an egg. This was the routine for my first few days. I would be picked up after that and taken to the GSC office, where I had Swahili lessons, followed by various introductory sessions with staff. My program only includes 3 Swahili lessons, so I am planning to follow up with my teacher, Godson, for some private lessons once I get a little better situated.
On Wednesday, I finally met my homestay family. The matriarchs of Tanzanian families typically go by Mama, followed by their last name, or the first name of their first born child. Mama Chaulla met me at the Hostel and we shared a soda while waiting for the taxi to take us home (it was raining-- again). Mama Chaulla has 6 adult children, and as far as I can tell, lives with her granddaughter Karen and her parents. I say I can't tell for sure because lots of family members are in and out all the time! They are all so nice and welcoming to me. Karen is 13 and speaks English very well. She also loves the fact that I speak Spanish, so we frequently spend our evenings exchanging Spanish lessons for Swahili lessons. She asked me last night if I had any English storybooks for her to practice English with, so I offered her what I could-- a few Rolling Stone magazines. (Thanks, Dan!) I told her they'd be a little hard, but she loved the pictures of musicians and celebrities. She's a big Nicki Minaj fan. She especially loved the Ralph Lauren cologne samples.
Mama reminds me so much of my Grandma Lorene. It's really comforting actually... if I think about it too much, it nearly brings me to tears. She is a short woman with similar facial features, very sweet and welcoming, and humms to herself while putzing around the house in exactly the same way Grandma used to. She has a similar sense of humor, too. It is customary to call out, "Hodi" before entering a house, which asks if you may enter. The response, then, it "Karibu!", "Welcome!" One night I was helping with dinner (chips and beans... like chili fries! Yum!!) and Mama's adult son and daughter were knocking in the rain, calling, "Hodi, Hodi!" She casually responds, "Hapana! Hapana!!" Which means, "No!!" Then giggles to herself and continues chopping potatoes.
There was some drama at the house, though. The homestays are required to provide volunteers a room with a lock, so before I left the house on my first day there, I contemplated whether or not it would be necessary to also lock my luggage. I decided not to, but took note of the way that the zipper got caught on a scarf inside my suitcase as I closed it. Well, when I returned home, my room was still locked... but I immediately noticed that the zipper to my suitcase was nicely zipped all the way around, caught on nothing. Shit! I looked around inside. 50,000 Tanzanian shillings missing, as well as a big bag of Luna bars and vegan jerkey I had brought from home. I felt SO uncomfortable, and so upset. I called Daphne at the GSC office, and she asked to speak to my mama. Mama was shocked. She explained that the last volunteer lost the spare key to the room long ago, so there was only one. It simply was not possible. She poured me some tea and we sat together and tried to figure out what happened. Mama Chaulla has been hosting volunteers for many years, and there has never been a problem, so this was quite troubling. She was so upset. I knew she had nothing to do with it, and I really liked the family, so I decided to stay under the condition that the change the lock. We both seemed to understand that we were both sorry for the trouble. She insisted on paying me back the money that was missing, but I said no. The next day, on my way out, I found a Luna bar wrapper and a vegan jerkey wrapper on the ground in the complex. Bastards! I showed Mama, and she felt terrible. I'm quite sure that the last volunteer lost the key because someone (perhaps one of the many kids in the complex?) took it. But, I now have a new key, but I also lock my luggage while I'm not home.
As for volunteering, I began my BIA training toward the end of this week. (That's Bio-Intensive Agriculture, and organic method of farming that helps to increase yield and thus increase food security) I had a few classroom sessions with William, a teacher at a local farming/livestock institute, and got to do some practical work at the GSC demonstration plot with another trainer, Ediltruda. She is an incredible woman! Sweet, positive, happy to teach, and incredibly strong and hard working. The first day in the field we made a compost head, and our second day we dug a 7 meter long garden bed. That means, dug the entire bed one-foot deep to help loosen and airate the soil, in addition to adding compost. That is astonishingly hard work! Ediltruda made me and my fellow volunteer Ebony look like chumps! Hey, I welcome the opportunity to be humbled... and I'm sure it won't be the last. My arms are aching and sunburnt today. Come on milk box muscles!!
I now have to close as I am running out of time. Next week we are doing a follow-up in a nearby village, where we'll camp for the week because it won't be practical to return to Arusha each day. I will plan to update again next weekend. Thank you to all who have sent me love and encouragement through Facebook and email, it means a lot to me! Until next time... Kwaherini!
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