I spent last week (from Sunday to Saturday) in, going to, or coming from Zanzibar, which by the way is one of the coolest places (not temperature-wise) on earth. I now have one more meeting with the mamas, and then will spend Wednesday packing, saying goodbye to friends, and otherwise tying up any loose ends. I fly to Washington on Thursday.
Needless to say, I'm CRAZY BUSY OH MY GOODNESS SO MUCH TO DO. So don't expect another blog post for a few more days. I have more stories to tell, though, and will write most of them when I get a chance (some tales will cost you a beer).
Monday, April 26, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
(mostly) dead snake
I was at Via Via yesterday morning doing some work, and all of a sudden a waitress screamed and one of the guys swore loudly, and everybody around them jumped backwards in fright. I looked, and there was a bright green snake (about the size of a garter snake) slithering across the floor. These usually tres-cool dudes were acting super scared (there were plenty of girlie screams, though the boys later denied this), and then the owner, Joe, bashed in the snake's head with a 2-by-4. It was a poisonous green mambo snake.
The neat thing was that even though it was clearly dead (squished brains), its muscles were still alive, twitching and reacting to touch. One of the guys picked it up by the end and the tail coiled around his fingers even though the head hung limply. I held it too, and had my picture taken. Its tail stayed "alive" for at least 10 minutes. Science!
The neat thing was that even though it was clearly dead (squished brains), its muscles were still alive, twitching and reacting to touch. One of the guys picked it up by the end and the tail coiled around his fingers even though the head hung limply. I held it too, and had my picture taken. Its tail stayed "alive" for at least 10 minutes. Science!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
more purchase info
I am delighted that so many of you are interested in buying some of the Mamas' products! Thank you so, so much.
So here's some more details:
I'll take orders until Saturday (as it'll take some time for things to be made). The easiest way for this to work is for me to buy everything here, and for you guys to pay me back upon delivery in Canada.
1 coaster: $2.50
1 bracelet: $2.50
Cookbook: $6.50
The cookbooks aren't very big, but they have a nice selection of regional staple recipes, and what's fun is that they're in both English and Kiswahili. I haven't made any of the recipes myself, but Zai makes everything in the book on a regular basis. All of the recipes are made of ingredients it's possible to get in Edmonton (plantains and passionfruit are the only things that might take a bit of hunting for), and are easy to adapt to your own preferences.
To order, either leave a comment on the blog, drop me an email (robin.collum AT gmail.com), or get in touch on facebook. If you've already done so, consider the order placed!
Thank you again!
So here's some more details:
I'll take orders until Saturday (as it'll take some time for things to be made). The easiest way for this to work is for me to buy everything here, and for you guys to pay me back upon delivery in Canada.
1 coaster: $2.50
1 bracelet: $2.50
Cookbook: $6.50
The cookbooks aren't very big, but they have a nice selection of regional staple recipes, and what's fun is that they're in both English and Kiswahili. I haven't made any of the recipes myself, but Zai makes everything in the book on a regular basis. All of the recipes are made of ingredients it's possible to get in Edmonton (plantains and passionfruit are the only things that might take a bit of hunting for), and are easy to adapt to your own preferences.
To order, either leave a comment on the blog, drop me an email (robin.collum AT gmail.com), or get in touch on facebook. If you've already done so, consider the order placed!
Thank you again!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Contrasts
This part of Tanzania is truly a spectacular place. The pretty terraced hills are covered in tree, the fields that were planted only a few weeks ago are already green with corn and rice, and there are always flowers everywhere. From the red, yellow, and purple bougainvillea (which I suspect are invasive species, but whatever they're pretty) to the orangey-red flowers of the African tulip tree, you can't walk five feet down the paths without seeing another splash of colour. The wild birds are colourful, acrobatic, and noisy (and the omnipresent chickens drown even them out). There are bees buzzing at the bush outside my window from the crack of dawn, and the crickets get going before the sun goes down.
Nature here is bright, loud, and in-your-face in a way that it isn't at home, and not just because I live in the city. Whether it's the river valley, or the mountains, or on the coast, none of the Canadian natural ecosystems and "wildernesses" I've known have had this sense of crazy exuberance. Even when Canadian scenes are majestic an imposing, there's a sense of both dignity and struggle there. I can really sense that the plants and animals evolved through a real struggle with the elements; everything in Canada lives under the shadow of winter. The systems ahve adapted to survive in extremely difficult conditions, and I always feel that when I'm out in nature in Canada. Even in the spring, when everything's bright and fresh and cheerful, it only feels that way because you remember the winter that just passed and will return before too long.
Here, though, there are no such restrictions and it feels like evolution has just gone crazy with the freedom. There's water from underground springs to supplement the (right now, frequent and torrential) rain, constant warmth, and fertile volcanic soil. The results are incredibly beautiful in a way I've never had the chance to enjoy before.
This sensation is lost as soon as you enter the hot, crowded, and stinky streets of Arusha city proper, though. And it would be unfair and dishonest if I only told you about the beauty of this part of Tanzania. There is a lot of ugliness here too, and it's as much a part of my daily experience as the flowers and chameleons.
First of all, it's filthy. Few actually drivable roads plus no government money equals no organized garbage collection, so there's trash everywhere. The main streets in Arusha city are swept by a fleet of (mostly) women with brooms and wheelbarrows, but every other public place is full of garbage. Everyone litters everything. If they had the money, the government could end unemployment overnight, because an army of streetcleaners could work for a decade cleaning up the corn cobs, candy wrappers, empty bottles, and plastic bags out of the ditches and cornfields. And ever since I wrote a story for the Journal about the garbage-to-gas plant being built in edmonton, I see all carbon-based trash as just being just one $12M factory away from "clean-burning" fuel.
Which brings me to the fact that hardly anything here could be described as clean-burning (even putting aside the widespread burning of garbage). Most of the rural homes I've seen cook with coal, as do the mamas who serve up freshly barbecued maize from little grills on roadsides everywhere (I haven't eaten any yet, and am not sure I will). Though it's not like there's much alternative: it's not as if there are gas lines, and I don't know how many people have electricity. We cook on a single burner that's attached to a propane tank. You open the valve and light it with a match.
But the smell of coal smoke is nothing compared to the reek of exhaust. You should see some of the black clouds that trail most of the cars and trucks. Part of the problem is that so many of the vehicles here are really old and poorly maintained, as you'd expect. But Lema told me that it's also because a lot of the gas stations mix their fuels to save money; sometimes people buy the cheap stuff on purpose, and sometimes they have no other choice. There's a reason diesel and gasoline are in different pumps in Canada (and if even I know something's bad for an engine, it must be really terrible).
None of this has been meant as an insult to Tanzania. Both the beauty and the ugliness run to extremes, but 90% of the time the beauty wins. I just want to give an honest, informative picture of the place, that's all. You should all still totally come here.
Nature here is bright, loud, and in-your-face in a way that it isn't at home, and not just because I live in the city. Whether it's the river valley, or the mountains, or on the coast, none of the Canadian natural ecosystems and "wildernesses" I've known have had this sense of crazy exuberance. Even when Canadian scenes are majestic an imposing, there's a sense of both dignity and struggle there. I can really sense that the plants and animals evolved through a real struggle with the elements; everything in Canada lives under the shadow of winter. The systems ahve adapted to survive in extremely difficult conditions, and I always feel that when I'm out in nature in Canada. Even in the spring, when everything's bright and fresh and cheerful, it only feels that way because you remember the winter that just passed and will return before too long.
Here, though, there are no such restrictions and it feels like evolution has just gone crazy with the freedom. There's water from underground springs to supplement the (right now, frequent and torrential) rain, constant warmth, and fertile volcanic soil. The results are incredibly beautiful in a way I've never had the chance to enjoy before.
This sensation is lost as soon as you enter the hot, crowded, and stinky streets of Arusha city proper, though. And it would be unfair and dishonest if I only told you about the beauty of this part of Tanzania. There is a lot of ugliness here too, and it's as much a part of my daily experience as the flowers and chameleons.
First of all, it's filthy. Few actually drivable roads plus no government money equals no organized garbage collection, so there's trash everywhere. The main streets in Arusha city are swept by a fleet of (mostly) women with brooms and wheelbarrows, but every other public place is full of garbage. Everyone litters everything. If they had the money, the government could end unemployment overnight, because an army of streetcleaners could work for a decade cleaning up the corn cobs, candy wrappers, empty bottles, and plastic bags out of the ditches and cornfields. And ever since I wrote a story for the Journal about the garbage-to-gas plant being built in edmonton, I see all carbon-based trash as just being just one $12M factory away from "clean-burning" fuel.
Which brings me to the fact that hardly anything here could be described as clean-burning (even putting aside the widespread burning of garbage). Most of the rural homes I've seen cook with coal, as do the mamas who serve up freshly barbecued maize from little grills on roadsides everywhere (I haven't eaten any yet, and am not sure I will). Though it's not like there's much alternative: it's not as if there are gas lines, and I don't know how many people have electricity. We cook on a single burner that's attached to a propane tank. You open the valve and light it with a match.
But the smell of coal smoke is nothing compared to the reek of exhaust. You should see some of the black clouds that trail most of the cars and trucks. Part of the problem is that so many of the vehicles here are really old and poorly maintained, as you'd expect. But Lema told me that it's also because a lot of the gas stations mix their fuels to save money; sometimes people buy the cheap stuff on purpose, and sometimes they have no other choice. There's a reason diesel and gasoline are in different pumps in Canada (and if even I know something's bad for an engine, it must be really terrible).
None of this has been meant as an insult to Tanzania. Both the beauty and the ugliness run to extremes, but 90% of the time the beauty wins. I just want to give an honest, informative picture of the place, that's all. You should all still totally come here.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The exciting world of international business
Hamjambo!
I'm sorry for the recent dearth of posts. Since Alex went home my workload has doubled and I'm scrambling to fit in all the work and fun that I want to accomplish before I go home. For those of you who have been asking, I leave TZ on April 29 (so soon! Sob!), and then I'm off to Washington DC to impose on the hospitality of my friend Matt. I get back to Canada on May 5.
Also: Is anyone interested in buying bracelets, coasters, or cookbooks? If so, could you let me know by the end of the week? Bracelets and coasters are $2.50 each, and cookbooks are $8 (I think, I have to double check).
Anyway, business:
As I've mentioned, there are two Educare women's groups: the Machumba mamas and the Nazareth mamas. The Nazareth mamas were doing the cookbooks, but since they've been printed they haven't had anything to work on. But Alex and I didn't know how to help them before, so we concentrated on the Machumba mamas.
Now, however, we're integrating the Nazareth mamas into the safari project at the same time as we expand that enterprise. "Um, that sounds like a lot of work and a bit of a risk, seeing as how you've barely gotten the business off the ground," you're probably thinking. And you're totally right, but Alex and I really think it's the best thing for both groups: the Machumba group has always been a bit small (only 5 mamas) for the safari plan to really roll.
To begin with, the Machumbas were making bracelets and coasters for a company called Maasai Wanderings (MW). They are able to make one batch of 30 gifts (15 bracelets, 15 coasters) each week (6 items each). This is totally fine for one company in the low season, especially because MW also buys gifts from some Maasai women. But in the low season, it doesn't amount to much, and we have also started working with Soko Adventures (SA), a company run by a local couple. And Donna, the wonderful Australian woman who runs MW wants us to make lunchboxes for her company. Each lunchbox would take one mama a week to make (about eight hours total, working two hours a day four days a week). It would be hard to add that to their brtacelet- and coaster-making without slowing down gift production, but it's too good a deal to pass up.
Meanwhile, we also had the problem of what to do to help the Nazareths. So we decided: why not get them to do the same project? It solves both problems.
So right now, the Nazareth mamas are learning the banana trade, and they're learning fast! We've brought in Mama Caro, who originally taught the Machumba mamas. She's a great teacher, and the mamas are incredibly fast learners. After four lessons, their coasters are basically ready to sell, and I was blown away by the quality of their first bracelets on Friday. I am ridiculously proud of them. Alex, I wish you were here to see it.
As soon as they're fully trained (which is going to be way sooner than I'd expected), the Nazareth group will be in charge of making the bracelets and coasters for SA. Since there's 12 of them, they'll begin slowly: making three products each per week, so that we can ensure quality even though they're so new. By the start of high season (June), I hope that SA will want to up the size of their orders, because by then the mamas will be able to work more quickly. Irene at SA has already broached the subject of larger orders, so as long as they're happy working with us for the next couple of months I'm optimistic.
Giving the SA business to the Nazareth mamas will free up the Machumba mamas to start learning how to make lunchboxes. I met with Mama Caro on Friday to go over possible designs, and will meet with Donna this week to sort out the details. Once they've learned how, the Machumba mamas will be creating boxes and gifts for MW. That will keep them busy all summer, I think. In the even longer term, I hope that the mamas will be able to arrange lunchbox deals with even more safari companies. Most operators use either cardboard boxes or tupperware-like containers for their picnic lunches on game drives. Our lidded, woven boxes will be more environmentally friend and more beautiful than either of those.
If everything goes according to plan (and if each of you could cross your fingers, I'd consider it a personal favour), both groups should be busy and profitable for years to come. A small portion of each sale also goes to Educare to help fund future projects. The best part is that the mamas will hopefully be able to run this business themselves (with Mr Shija and Geoffrey, who speak English). I have created order forms, accounting charts, weekly schedules, and all the information I think they'll need to keep things running smoothly. I'll also keep helping through email for the next little while to make sure that the various phases of the expansion go as planned. But beyond that, I don't think much outside help will be needed.
This is the most important thing for me, and I think Alex feels the same. We both want this project to belong to them, not us; we're just here to help get the ball rolling. We came to share our resources, skills, and time, but that would all be wasted if the mamas didn't benefit in the long term from our visit. It's the old teach-a-man-to-fish situation. But it's more than that. The whole time I've been here, I've noticed that Mr Shija and the mamas have tended to look at Alex and I as if we're experts, deferring to our judgment. The mamas just don't have confidence in their own abilities when it comes to businessy stuff. I, on the other hand, have a huge amount of faith in them. These women work incredibly hard, running households, growing and selling produce, taking care of their animals, raising their children, and working on the banana products on top of that. Alex and I have done the planning and writing and that sort of thing, but the mamas' work is the heart of this whole project, and it truly is their business.
I want the safari project to make them lots of money, but more than anything I want the mamas to be proud of themselves and feel confident, and know that they are the reason for their success.
I'm sorry for the recent dearth of posts. Since Alex went home my workload has doubled and I'm scrambling to fit in all the work and fun that I want to accomplish before I go home. For those of you who have been asking, I leave TZ on April 29 (so soon! Sob!), and then I'm off to Washington DC to impose on the hospitality of my friend Matt. I get back to Canada on May 5.
Also: Is anyone interested in buying bracelets, coasters, or cookbooks? If so, could you let me know by the end of the week? Bracelets and coasters are $2.50 each, and cookbooks are $8 (I think, I have to double check).
Anyway, business:
As I've mentioned, there are two Educare women's groups: the Machumba mamas and the Nazareth mamas. The Nazareth mamas were doing the cookbooks, but since they've been printed they haven't had anything to work on. But Alex and I didn't know how to help them before, so we concentrated on the Machumba mamas.
Now, however, we're integrating the Nazareth mamas into the safari project at the same time as we expand that enterprise. "Um, that sounds like a lot of work and a bit of a risk, seeing as how you've barely gotten the business off the ground," you're probably thinking. And you're totally right, but Alex and I really think it's the best thing for both groups: the Machumba group has always been a bit small (only 5 mamas) for the safari plan to really roll.
To begin with, the Machumbas were making bracelets and coasters for a company called Maasai Wanderings (MW). They are able to make one batch of 30 gifts (15 bracelets, 15 coasters) each week (6 items each). This is totally fine for one company in the low season, especially because MW also buys gifts from some Maasai women. But in the low season, it doesn't amount to much, and we have also started working with Soko Adventures (SA), a company run by a local couple. And Donna, the wonderful Australian woman who runs MW wants us to make lunchboxes for her company. Each lunchbox would take one mama a week to make (about eight hours total, working two hours a day four days a week). It would be hard to add that to their brtacelet- and coaster-making without slowing down gift production, but it's too good a deal to pass up.
Meanwhile, we also had the problem of what to do to help the Nazareths. So we decided: why not get them to do the same project? It solves both problems.
So right now, the Nazareth mamas are learning the banana trade, and they're learning fast! We've brought in Mama Caro, who originally taught the Machumba mamas. She's a great teacher, and the mamas are incredibly fast learners. After four lessons, their coasters are basically ready to sell, and I was blown away by the quality of their first bracelets on Friday. I am ridiculously proud of them. Alex, I wish you were here to see it.
As soon as they're fully trained (which is going to be way sooner than I'd expected), the Nazareth group will be in charge of making the bracelets and coasters for SA. Since there's 12 of them, they'll begin slowly: making three products each per week, so that we can ensure quality even though they're so new. By the start of high season (June), I hope that SA will want to up the size of their orders, because by then the mamas will be able to work more quickly. Irene at SA has already broached the subject of larger orders, so as long as they're happy working with us for the next couple of months I'm optimistic.
Giving the SA business to the Nazareth mamas will free up the Machumba mamas to start learning how to make lunchboxes. I met with Mama Caro on Friday to go over possible designs, and will meet with Donna this week to sort out the details. Once they've learned how, the Machumba mamas will be creating boxes and gifts for MW. That will keep them busy all summer, I think. In the even longer term, I hope that the mamas will be able to arrange lunchbox deals with even more safari companies. Most operators use either cardboard boxes or tupperware-like containers for their picnic lunches on game drives. Our lidded, woven boxes will be more environmentally friend and more beautiful than either of those.
If everything goes according to plan (and if each of you could cross your fingers, I'd consider it a personal favour), both groups should be busy and profitable for years to come. A small portion of each sale also goes to Educare to help fund future projects. The best part is that the mamas will hopefully be able to run this business themselves (with Mr Shija and Geoffrey, who speak English). I have created order forms, accounting charts, weekly schedules, and all the information I think they'll need to keep things running smoothly. I'll also keep helping through email for the next little while to make sure that the various phases of the expansion go as planned. But beyond that, I don't think much outside help will be needed.
This is the most important thing for me, and I think Alex feels the same. We both want this project to belong to them, not us; we're just here to help get the ball rolling. We came to share our resources, skills, and time, but that would all be wasted if the mamas didn't benefit in the long term from our visit. It's the old teach-a-man-to-fish situation. But it's more than that. The whole time I've been here, I've noticed that Mr Shija and the mamas have tended to look at Alex and I as if we're experts, deferring to our judgment. The mamas just don't have confidence in their own abilities when it comes to businessy stuff. I, on the other hand, have a huge amount of faith in them. These women work incredibly hard, running households, growing and selling produce, taking care of their animals, raising their children, and working on the banana products on top of that. Alex and I have done the planning and writing and that sort of thing, but the mamas' work is the heart of this whole project, and it truly is their business.
I want the safari project to make them lots of money, but more than anything I want the mamas to be proud of themselves and feel confident, and know that they are the reason for their success.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
(ramble)
Today I saw a Maasai man in full traditional gear wearing wraparound shades and carrying a briefcase. Arusha's pretty cool.
There are plenty of Maasai (especially men) in Arusha, and most of them do wear the the traditional garments: red or purple robes and blankets, walking sticks, dagger, and often beautiful jewelry as well. Most of them have stretched earlobes as well, and I've noticed designs scarred onto the cheeks of both men and women, but I don't know what they mean. It's interesting to see these elements of Maasai traditions in the middle of the city. It's especially striking to see actual Maasai going about their daily lives in these clothes while at the same time being surrounded by the commodification of Maasai culture. The image of the Maasai as the archetypical African warrior is especially strong here because they're from this region, but I'm told you see it everywhere in East Africa.
There's a metaphor in here somewhere about the way the various tribal cultures of Tanzania are being changed, exploited, and often destroyed by modernization, westernization, population growth, etc...but I can't quite figure out how to put it right now.
There are plenty of Maasai (especially men) in Arusha, and most of them do wear the the traditional garments: red or purple robes and blankets, walking sticks, dagger, and often beautiful jewelry as well. Most of them have stretched earlobes as well, and I've noticed designs scarred onto the cheeks of both men and women, but I don't know what they mean. It's interesting to see these elements of Maasai traditions in the middle of the city. It's especially striking to see actual Maasai going about their daily lives in these clothes while at the same time being surrounded by the commodification of Maasai culture. The image of the Maasai as the archetypical African warrior is especially strong here because they're from this region, but I'm told you see it everywhere in East Africa.
There's a metaphor in here somewhere about the way the various tribal cultures of Tanzania are being changed, exploited, and often destroyed by modernization, westernization, population growth, etc...but I can't quite figure out how to put it right now.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Sports!
I have discovered to my delight that the local secondary school soccer league plays on Wednesday evenings at the pitch near my house. I first saw them last week, and since they were there last night too it must be a regular thing.
Last Wednesday when I got off the daladala and started walking down the Dubya Road as I always do, I was distracted by the sight (and sound) of a large crowd behind on the other side of the maize field cheering about something...
Hmm, maybe a digression is in order:
So where was I? Ah yes, walking down the road last Wednesday. The aforementioned maize had just been cut and the field plowed on the weekend, so this was the first time that I'd had a good view of the pitch from the road at this time of day. My attention was drawn by the shouts, but it took me a second to figure out what the gathering was all about. When I saw a soccer ball sail through the air behind the crowd, my Holmes-ian skills kicked into gear, though, so I went to check out the match. It was high-school aged boys playing to a crowd of at least 300 people, most of whom were still in their school uniforms.
It took me a bit of time and questioning in both English and garbled Kiswahili, but I eventually discovered that it was a match between Tengeru Boys' Secondary School (wearing yellow jerseys and cheered on by fans in grey and green), and Duluti Secondary (blue and white supporters). Duluti wore red, but while Tengeru's shirts were proper matching jerseys, theirs were just mismatched red tshirts.
The pitch itself is in pretty rough shape; dirt patches, no lines, and I think the only mowing is done by machete (maybe), and goat (definitely). [Those who are disappointed that this site has turned into "Robin Blogs About Goats Dot Com" can skip ahead to the next paragraph.] I know for sure that goats are involved in the upkeep of the field because that they are so dedicated that they were still there working as the game went on. Half a dozen of them stuck stubbornly to their pasture and grazed obliviously at one end of the field. So the teams just played around them. Actually, I think I was the only one who found the whole scene remarkable; the athletes played around and through with no obvious break in concentration, and the crowd made to real effort to herd the animals away. The animals were occasionally startled by a ball landing in their midst or a player dribbling between them, but would soon go back to eating (looking slightly indignant, in my opinion).
The game itself was pretty good, at least to my inexpert eyes. The boys had good skills: smart and accurate passes, fancy footwork, and the game had pretty good flow. You could tell that these guys' spare time is all spent kicking a ball around, practicing and showing off.
It's been a million years since I last saw high-schoolers play, but I'd be willing to bet that either team could beat or at least hold their own against any similarly aged Canadian comp team (especially Duluti, the red team. They were better than Tengeru). Regardless, it was really really fun to watch - fast-paced and entertaining. But the really cool thing for me was just the atmosphere and the fans.
The spectators were loosely segregated, with each school's supporters taking one side and one goal end each. And good golly were they into it. When Duluti lined up for a penalty kick, Tengeru fans raced across the field and massed themselves behind and around the net to the point that the ref had to herd them into an acceptable, non-disruptive formation. When Duluti missed, there was absolute jubilation from the green-and-greys. But there must have been something wrong with the penalty (don't ask me...maybe the goalie stepped forward too soon?) Duluti were awarded a re-kick: pandemonium. The blue-and-whites hoorayed, and the Tengeru students stormed the field to argue their case to the ref. Of course then the Duluti kids had to have their share of the yelling, so they came onto the field...you get the picture. The ref was an old pro, though, and had quickly sorted it out and cleared the pitch. Duluti missed their second shot anyway.
But when Duluti did eventually score, on another penalty kick, it was total madness! Their fans stormed the pitch, dancing, cheering, cartwheeling (seriously), and hugging the players. I even saw one guy on his knees, genuflecting to the scorer. All this happened again with Duluti's second goal, and at the end of the match.
I've spent a lot of time in sports crowds, especially smaller, non-commercial ones like this, and it was cool to try to identify the similarities and differences between these crowds and ones in Canada. I don't know if I gleaned any deep cultural insights, but it was interesting all the same.
Yesterday it was different teams, same goats. I think I must have just never noticed the games before because of the maize and the fact that Tengeru's so noisy anyway.
This game wasn't as good and didn't keep my interest beyond halftime, but it had its moments. I had a lively debate with the guy next to me about the accuracy of a foul called on the blue team: I argued that it was a clean play and that the red man had tripped on his own and played up the fall for effect, while he felt it was a fair call against a dirty bit of cheating. Or at least that's what I think we were talking about. I was speaking English and him Kiswahili, so in truth he could just as well have been asking me if I've ever worked for the Mongolian foreign service. I still say the tackle was clean, though.
Last Wednesday when I got off the daladala and started walking down the Dubya Road as I always do, I was distracted by the sight (and sound) of a large crowd behind on the other side of the maize field cheering about something...
Hmm, maybe a digression is in order:
A daladala is a cheap, packed, and frankly dangerous minibus. They're on all the main roads, and are my main form of transportation after walking. I must remember to dedicate a whole post to the daladala experience later on.
The Dubya Road is obviously just a name I made up for the road that goes North from the Arusha-Moshi highway and eventually past my house. If it even has a real name, it's probably just "Meru Hospital Road" or something like that. But I've christened it after the ex-President of the US because the first kilometre or so of it was originally built for his visit to Tanzania a few years ago. He was scheduled to come see the hospital (which is maybe 500m from the highway), and the government decided that their distinguished visitor couldn't be driven there on the existing rutted, rocky dirt road. So they paved a stretch up to the first intersecting path. All well and good, I suppose, though certainly extravagant - there are schools here that don't even have desks... So anyway, the secret service showed up to do their standard recon before the big guy's arrival. They looked around, saw the direct view from the terraced foothills to the road, and visions of sniper-fire danced in their heads. So Bush was driven to the hospital along a presumably very bumpy backroad, and probably never even saw or heard of the newly paved and ditched street. A strange tale.
So where was I? Ah yes, walking down the road last Wednesday. The aforementioned maize had just been cut and the field plowed on the weekend, so this was the first time that I'd had a good view of the pitch from the road at this time of day. My attention was drawn by the shouts, but it took me a second to figure out what the gathering was all about. When I saw a soccer ball sail through the air behind the crowd, my Holmes-ian skills kicked into gear, though, so I went to check out the match. It was high-school aged boys playing to a crowd of at least 300 people, most of whom were still in their school uniforms.
It took me a bit of time and questioning in both English and garbled Kiswahili, but I eventually discovered that it was a match between Tengeru Boys' Secondary School (wearing yellow jerseys and cheered on by fans in grey and green), and Duluti Secondary (blue and white supporters). Duluti wore red, but while Tengeru's shirts were proper matching jerseys, theirs were just mismatched red tshirts.
The pitch itself is in pretty rough shape; dirt patches, no lines, and I think the only mowing is done by machete (maybe), and goat (definitely). [Those who are disappointed that this site has turned into "Robin Blogs About Goats Dot Com" can skip ahead to the next paragraph.] I know for sure that goats are involved in the upkeep of the field because that they are so dedicated that they were still there working as the game went on. Half a dozen of them stuck stubbornly to their pasture and grazed obliviously at one end of the field. So the teams just played around them. Actually, I think I was the only one who found the whole scene remarkable; the athletes played around and through with no obvious break in concentration, and the crowd made to real effort to herd the animals away. The animals were occasionally startled by a ball landing in their midst or a player dribbling between them, but would soon go back to eating (looking slightly indignant, in my opinion).
The game itself was pretty good, at least to my inexpert eyes. The boys had good skills: smart and accurate passes, fancy footwork, and the game had pretty good flow. You could tell that these guys' spare time is all spent kicking a ball around, practicing and showing off.
It's been a million years since I last saw high-schoolers play, but I'd be willing to bet that either team could beat or at least hold their own against any similarly aged Canadian comp team (especially Duluti, the red team. They were better than Tengeru). Regardless, it was really really fun to watch - fast-paced and entertaining. But the really cool thing for me was just the atmosphere and the fans.
The spectators were loosely segregated, with each school's supporters taking one side and one goal end each. And good golly were they into it. When Duluti lined up for a penalty kick, Tengeru fans raced across the field and massed themselves behind and around the net to the point that the ref had to herd them into an acceptable, non-disruptive formation. When Duluti missed, there was absolute jubilation from the green-and-greys. But there must have been something wrong with the penalty (don't ask me...maybe the goalie stepped forward too soon?) Duluti were awarded a re-kick: pandemonium. The blue-and-whites hoorayed, and the Tengeru students stormed the field to argue their case to the ref. Of course then the Duluti kids had to have their share of the yelling, so they came onto the field...you get the picture. The ref was an old pro, though, and had quickly sorted it out and cleared the pitch. Duluti missed their second shot anyway.
But when Duluti did eventually score, on another penalty kick, it was total madness! Their fans stormed the pitch, dancing, cheering, cartwheeling (seriously), and hugging the players. I even saw one guy on his knees, genuflecting to the scorer. All this happened again with Duluti's second goal, and at the end of the match.
I've spent a lot of time in sports crowds, especially smaller, non-commercial ones like this, and it was cool to try to identify the similarities and differences between these crowds and ones in Canada. I don't know if I gleaned any deep cultural insights, but it was interesting all the same.
Yesterday it was different teams, same goats. I think I must have just never noticed the games before because of the maize and the fact that Tengeru's so noisy anyway.
This game wasn't as good and didn't keep my interest beyond halftime, but it had its moments. I had a lively debate with the guy next to me about the accuracy of a foul called on the blue team: I argued that it was a clean play and that the red man had tripped on his own and played up the fall for effect, while he felt it was a fair call against a dirty bit of cheating. Or at least that's what I think we were talking about. I was speaking English and him Kiswahili, so in truth he could just as well have been asking me if I've ever worked for the Mongolian foreign service. I still say the tackle was clean, though.
Woohoo!
Birthday magic!
It has been a frustrating week for me, business-wise, as I was blindsided by some information that could have potentially have totally derailed the project (which I'm not going to get into here). A safari boss was also giving me the run-around, and I had been feeling a bit overwhelmed by the mountain of work I'll need to accomplish in the next month.
But so far today everything's coming up frangipani! I met with another safari company this morning (Alex is in Zanzibar and Dar this week), and when I left their office I was skipping down the street.
Soko Adventures is a smallish company run by a Tanzanian couple. They already have a great reputation for giving back to the community (they give money to a women's group, hospitals, and orphans, and every month they take orphans for a day-long safari). I spoke to both Irene and Sabastian, and they were very interested in the project. They asked tons of questions, talked about bringing guests to see the women working, ordering different projects, and we discussed numbers and prices and practicalities.
Nothing is decided yet; I left them with the printed materials and a set of samples, but they were both visibly excited by the project. I have a very strong feeling that something big will come out of this meeting.
Best birthday ever, and I haven't even had any cake yet!
It has been a frustrating week for me, business-wise, as I was blindsided by some information that could have potentially have totally derailed the project (which I'm not going to get into here). A safari boss was also giving me the run-around, and I had been feeling a bit overwhelmed by the mountain of work I'll need to accomplish in the next month.
But so far today everything's coming up frangipani! I met with another safari company this morning (Alex is in Zanzibar and Dar this week), and when I left their office I was skipping down the street.
Soko Adventures is a smallish company run by a Tanzanian couple. They already have a great reputation for giving back to the community (they give money to a women's group, hospitals, and orphans, and every month they take orphans for a day-long safari). I spoke to both Irene and Sabastian, and they were very interested in the project. They asked tons of questions, talked about bringing guests to see the women working, ordering different projects, and we discussed numbers and prices and practicalities.
Nothing is decided yet; I left them with the printed materials and a set of samples, but they were both visibly excited by the project. I have a very strong feeling that something big will come out of this meeting.
Best birthday ever, and I haven't even had any cake yet!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Erratum
My dear readers, I have let you down, and I am ashamed. You come to this site for true reporting from the front lines in Tanzania, but instead in the last post I gave you lies. I would like to set the record straight:
There are sheep here, they're just freaky-looking. What I had originally taken to be a subspecies of thickset, exceptionally ugly goat is, instead, ovine. They've got shortish, straightish wool (which is what initially threw me off), and thick sheepy tails. I was also sitting next to a pen yesterday and noticed that the animal next to me had round pupils - as I'm sure you know, goat pupils are rectangular and satanic. So there went the ugly-goat theory. It's ugly sheep after all.
I can only beg your forgiveness for this massive oversight, and promise to strive for higher editorial standards in the future.
There are sheep here, they're just freaky-looking. What I had originally taken to be a subspecies of thickset, exceptionally ugly goat is, instead, ovine. They've got shortish, straightish wool (which is what initially threw me off), and thick sheepy tails. I was also sitting next to a pen yesterday and noticed that the animal next to me had round pupils - as I'm sure you know, goat pupils are rectangular and satanic. So there went the ugly-goat theory. It's ugly sheep after all.
I can only beg your forgiveness for this massive oversight, and promise to strive for higher editorial standards in the future.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Bits and bobs
I don't have time to write a full post right now, but I feel bad for neglecting my blogging duties. I'm letting down my adoring public.
So here's a few random thoughts and observations...
-I love that there are geckos inside my house. Most of our windows are glazed, but some aren't and there are also vents near the eaves, so plenty of nature inside, but it's no problem other than sometimes there's a slug on your bed. The geckos are awesome, though. Every evening, they'll start to show up on the walls, darting about and being cute. Alex has what he considers a resident pair in his room, and calls them Simon and Garfunkel. They're our malaria-fighting pals.
-I have not seen a single sheep here. When you think about it, this makes total sense and shouldn't be noteworthy. I mean, there can't be much of a market for wool in East Africa (though people do wear sweaters and long pants...while I'm dying in a tank top), and just imagine how sweaty the sheep would get. But still, I was surprised somehow. I guess that since there are lots of goats, cows and chickens everywhere (and boy do they all make themselves heard), I sort of expected some sheep to sort of round out the farmyard scene. But nope, just the ugliest goats I've ever seen.
-I have lost weight since I arrived. Not too much, but enough that my pants were starting to lose the fight against gravity. So I went to the Tengeru market a few weeks ago and bought a used yellow naugahyde belt for 1500Tsh, which is slightly more than a dollar. So now my pants stay up, but the extra fabric bunches at the waist. To complete the fashion-plate image, I had to fix my hair. I'd forgotten to get it cut before I left, and it was getting really heavy and unmanageable. So I went outside to the backyard, and using a pair of child's school scissors (with the cm printed on the blade) and checking my reflection in the window of Lema's truck, I gave myself a trim. Glamour.
-There's a really nice cafe/club/meeting place/bistro/etc in town called Via Via. It's on the grounds of the old German Boma (colonial admin buildings/fort), along with the museum and an arts centre and some other things, and right next to one of the small rivers that goes through Arusha. The restaurant bit is at the top of a small hill, half open to the air and surrounded by mango trees. Today I saw a little chameleon on one of them! The hill makes a little amphitheatre down to a stage. It's green and quiet (except in the evenings when they turn into a club), and has a nice menu with some good Western food. It's a great place to go if we're in town to just grab a table and get some work done with a milkshake or a Fanta. The other day I was there, and they had a KITTEN!! It was the cutest thing - a teensy weensy grey tabby, and he came over and slept on my lap while I chatted with some new friends from the States and worked on my Swahili. I mean, I probably got worms, but it was worth it.
So here's a few random thoughts and observations...
-I love that there are geckos inside my house. Most of our windows are glazed, but some aren't and there are also vents near the eaves, so plenty of nature inside, but it's no problem other than sometimes there's a slug on your bed. The geckos are awesome, though. Every evening, they'll start to show up on the walls, darting about and being cute. Alex has what he considers a resident pair in his room, and calls them Simon and Garfunkel. They're our malaria-fighting pals.
-I have not seen a single sheep here. When you think about it, this makes total sense and shouldn't be noteworthy. I mean, there can't be much of a market for wool in East Africa (though people do wear sweaters and long pants...while I'm dying in a tank top), and just imagine how sweaty the sheep would get. But still, I was surprised somehow. I guess that since there are lots of goats, cows and chickens everywhere (and boy do they all make themselves heard), I sort of expected some sheep to sort of round out the farmyard scene. But nope, just the ugliest goats I've ever seen.
-I have lost weight since I arrived. Not too much, but enough that my pants were starting to lose the fight against gravity. So I went to the Tengeru market a few weeks ago and bought a used yellow naugahyde belt for 1500Tsh, which is slightly more than a dollar. So now my pants stay up, but the extra fabric bunches at the waist. To complete the fashion-plate image, I had to fix my hair. I'd forgotten to get it cut before I left, and it was getting really heavy and unmanageable. So I went outside to the backyard, and using a pair of child's school scissors (with the cm printed on the blade) and checking my reflection in the window of Lema's truck, I gave myself a trim. Glamour.
-There's a really nice cafe/club/meeting place/bistro/etc in town called Via Via. It's on the grounds of the old German Boma (colonial admin buildings/fort), along with the museum and an arts centre and some other things, and right next to one of the small rivers that goes through Arusha. The restaurant bit is at the top of a small hill, half open to the air and surrounded by mango trees. Today I saw a little chameleon on one of them! The hill makes a little amphitheatre down to a stage. It's green and quiet (except in the evenings when they turn into a club), and has a nice menu with some good Western food. It's a great place to go if we're in town to just grab a table and get some work done with a milkshake or a Fanta. The other day I was there, and they had a KITTEN!! It was the cutest thing - a teensy weensy grey tabby, and he came over and slept on my lap while I chatted with some new friends from the States and worked on my Swahili. I mean, I probably got worms, but it was worth it.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
I'm fine!
Some of you have very sweetly expressed concern about my last post, but I don't want you to worry at all! My mood has bounced back like flubber, and I'm doing very well here. It's not always sunshine and roses, but what kind of person would I be if I ignored the poverty and problems and only saw the monkeys?
I'm keeping this blog because I want to share what I'm learning and experiencing on this adventure with my friends and family (that's you!), and I think it's only honest if I include the downs along with the ups.
So thank you for worrying, but don't! I'm really doing fine, and there is nowhere else I'd rather be right now than right here in Tanzania (though I do miss my dog).
I'm keeping this blog because I want to share what I'm learning and experiencing on this adventure with my friends and family (that's you!), and I think it's only honest if I include the downs along with the ups.
So thank you for worrying, but don't! I'm really doing fine, and there is nowhere else I'd rather be right now than right here in Tanzania (though I do miss my dog).
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
First world problems
I survived a small bout of homesickness last week only to be struck down by a sudden wave of overwhelming sadness and guilt at how much I have compared to most Tanzanians. 'You've been living in the one of the poorest countries in the world and you're just noticing this now?' is what you must be asking, but I don't mean that I was ignorant of this huge disparity before, but it had affected me differently.
Before, I had certainly seen the poverty around me: subsistence lifestyles, lack of education, torn clothing, poor health and dental care.* I didn't romanticize it or ignore it, but my sadness was always tempered by hope and energy. I saw every heartbreaking thing as an opportunity for things to get better for the people I've been meeting, and for this beautiful country. The dignity with which everyone carries themselves made me optimistic and confident that things are going to get better for Tanzania and Tanzanians. And I was here, working hard and doing my best to be a part of that recovery.
But this week, that optimism dissolved into despair. I blame the babies.
On Sunday, I went with Freddie (you remember Freddie, right? He's Lema's mum's neighbour) to help at the orphanage that the Green Foundation supports. It's for kids four years old and younger. Right now, there are 21 little ones living there, including 2 four-month-old babies. We got there just in time for the kids' early lunch/mid-morning meal, and our extra hands were much appreciated. I discovered that all of these babies and toddlers are taken care of by only two mamas.
Freddie and I helped dish out the food and spoon- and bottle-fed the really young ones their lunch of ugi, a thin millet- and milk-based porridge (I've had it, it's nice), and bean stew over rice. Then we cleaned up, I changed a lot of diapers (no pins or snaps on these bad boys—just folding, and some fuzzy velcro on the diaper cover), and we played with the kids until their afternoon naps. Then I helped in the kitchen, chopping and grating for dinner.
I was completely overwhelmed. How those two mamas managed it, I had no idea. It wasn't the physical work of it that got to me, though; I've changed many a diaper in my time, and the kids were fairly well-behaved and kept each other entertained. It was the emotional toll. My mind filled with everything I've ever learned about infant and early-childhood development, from nutrition to socialization to one-on-one affection, and all I could think of was what these kids don't have. For all I knew, this was a luxe orphanage—there were some toys, plenty of second-hand clothing in various sizes, food, room to play—but I wanted to cry, and scream, at how little they had.
The children were genuinely excited to see us, which was nice. They viewed me as someone to play with, not as a white-skinned novelty, which was a welcome change from being followed down the street outside our house by shouts of "Mzungu!" (European).
When I chose my placement, I briefly considered volunteering at an orphanage but decided against it. I figured that it was work that could be done by 18-year-old gap year students, and that I would be more useful in a "harder" job where I could use my work experience and education. As I left the orphanage Sunday afternoon, however, I had no doubt which job would be harder. My work with the Mamas may be more complicated, but I was left an emotional wreck by my Sunday-morning visit. It was so hard to be there, and when we left, I never wanted to go back. As we closed the gates behind us, I wanted to run down the road in the opposite direction until I reached the ocean.
And as if I weren't already feeling low enough, Monday made me feel even worse.
I chose that day to visit the UN International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda for the first time. It's based in Arusha (the city's nickname is the Geneva of Africa), and trials are open and free to the public. The experience deserves its own blog post, but suffice it to say that watching a war crimes trial isn't uplifting in the traditional sense of the word. The terrible details of particular deaths and burials on particular days were described matter-of-factly by survivors and perpetrators. It was fascinating, and I went back this afternoon, but I still left the room at lunch grateful for the fresh air and sunshine.
If you can believe it, though, that was the cheeriest part of my day. On my way home from meeting the Mamas (Alex was home sick after a bit of bad pork in town), Mr Shija and I stopped in at a couple of connected houses about halfway down the road. It's a long concrete/plaster building with about four shallow rooms all in a row, and a connecting porch or step along the front. I don't know what facilities or land might be out back, but there's an outdoor cooking area next to it, and there's always washing hung out to dry in front. There are usually people sitting or working out front when we go by, and they always say hello to us and Mr Shija. This time, I was excitedly welcomed by a couple of young women, (I think a bit younger than me, but I'm not sure). They invited me to sit down, gave me a Coke, and asked if Mr Shija could take a picture of us together. I didn't really know what was going on, of course, as everyone was speaking very rapid Swahili. Then Mr Shija said that I was invited in to eat with one of them. It would have been rude to refuse, so I went into her part of the building—one small room, a bit smaller than my bedroom here—and given a plate piled with rice, potatoes, and greens. The room held a bed, a cushioned bench, a rack of clothes, some boxes and crates covered in blankets, and one corner was piled with cooking things. They said they were so happy to have me in their home, and thanked me for joining them, invited me back anytime, etc, but for the life of me I didn't know why. I hadn't really met them before, I had barely conversed with them in my limited Swahili, but I was being treated as an honoured guest. And they didn't seem to be asking for anything in return, either.
I learned that Rosie, the one whose home I was in, had had to drop out of school when she became pregnant. The father lives in Dar, and she can't afford to go back to school. She has tried to set up a small enterprise selling used clothing, but doesn't have any capital and so is struggling with it (I think—the translation there was iffy). She'd like to take the six-month hotel-management course in Arusha to work in the tourism industry, but can't afford it. She lives in that small room with her son (and, I think, her sister), and provides for him all by herself, and yet she invited me in, fed me, and acted like I was the one doing her a favour.
I felt helpless and lost. Rosie isn't an unusual case; there are so many men and women with similar stories and circumstances, and I felt like nothing I could do would ever be enough. There I was, with my biggest worry whether or not I'll be accepted to law school, and I felt so guilty and miserable and hopeless. The fact that Rosie didn't resent me for it just made it worse; I resented myself.
Part of this story has a happy ending, and I'm feeling better today than I did Monday evening. Alex and I went again to the orphanage this morning (I had to psych myself up for it), and were greeted by four smiling young European women making breakfast and changing diapers. Apparently, the Mamas I met on Sunday aren't alone in their work after all, though I didn't learn this through the language barrier the other day. These other volunteers (a German midwife, a Finnish kindergarten teacher, and two German education students, plus another one who's on holiday right now) are there Monday to Friday, and do a wonderful job with the children. Two of them are doing year-long placements sponsored by the Lutheran Church of Bavaria (and a German government grant, I think), while the others are here for about a month each.
The older kids also have nursery school during the week, easing my mind even further. There's a stand-alone building on the orphanage grounds that I hadn't seen inside on the weekend, but has alphabet posters, number charts, pictures, and all that.
Our help was still useful today, of course, and I really enjoyed meeting the other volunteers. After breakfast, we cleaned up, I did a diaper or two, helped with folding some laundry, and of course played with the littlest kids. I sat in the yard with an infant on my lap (I brought an extra shirt to change into, which was good because she spit up on me), while Alex tried to keep a toddler from eating mud. It was a really good morning.
Seeing the kids so happy, and the other volunteers working so hard, made me feel a lot better. My feeling of helplessness is mostly gone, and I'm hopeful and energetic again. Two days ago, anything I can do seemed like a drop in a bucket. Today, it still does, but maybe the bucket is half full. (Geez, that's a schlocky analogy. This blog is now officially owned by Hallmark. The point is, I feel better. And isn't that what counts?)
Baadaye,
Robin
*I don't want to give the impression that everyone here lives in squalor; they don't. There are varying levels of wealth and comfort, with houses like ours (with a gate, power, hot water, and glazed windows) just down the road from two-room houses that shelter families who cook on outdoor fires. (There are also the "middle class" as we'd think of it, and the extremely wealthy, but you mainly see them in Arusha). Mama Hans, who hosts our meetings and is the Mama Machumba Project's secretary, has a home made, I think, of sticks and mud in the traditional style. But she has a large yard, many chickens, banana trees, and separate buildings for sleeping and cooking. They have electricity, and even a small TV set. She's doing very well (it helps that she can read and write, obviously) compared to many of the others in Ambureni Moivaru. But I don't know if she can afford to send all her children to school, or at least until what level. And her life is exhausting; she and her husband work their fingers to the bone just to maintain this small level of comfort they've managed to achieve.
Before, I had certainly seen the poverty around me: subsistence lifestyles, lack of education, torn clothing, poor health and dental care.* I didn't romanticize it or ignore it, but my sadness was always tempered by hope and energy. I saw every heartbreaking thing as an opportunity for things to get better for the people I've been meeting, and for this beautiful country. The dignity with which everyone carries themselves made me optimistic and confident that things are going to get better for Tanzania and Tanzanians. And I was here, working hard and doing my best to be a part of that recovery.
But this week, that optimism dissolved into despair. I blame the babies.
On Sunday, I went with Freddie (you remember Freddie, right? He's Lema's mum's neighbour) to help at the orphanage that the Green Foundation supports. It's for kids four years old and younger. Right now, there are 21 little ones living there, including 2 four-month-old babies. We got there just in time for the kids' early lunch/mid-morning meal, and our extra hands were much appreciated. I discovered that all of these babies and toddlers are taken care of by only two mamas.
Freddie and I helped dish out the food and spoon- and bottle-fed the really young ones their lunch of ugi, a thin millet- and milk-based porridge (I've had it, it's nice), and bean stew over rice. Then we cleaned up, I changed a lot of diapers (no pins or snaps on these bad boys—just folding, and some fuzzy velcro on the diaper cover), and we played with the kids until their afternoon naps. Then I helped in the kitchen, chopping and grating for dinner.
I was completely overwhelmed. How those two mamas managed it, I had no idea. It wasn't the physical work of it that got to me, though; I've changed many a diaper in my time, and the kids were fairly well-behaved and kept each other entertained. It was the emotional toll. My mind filled with everything I've ever learned about infant and early-childhood development, from nutrition to socialization to one-on-one affection, and all I could think of was what these kids don't have. For all I knew, this was a luxe orphanage—there were some toys, plenty of second-hand clothing in various sizes, food, room to play—but I wanted to cry, and scream, at how little they had.
The children were genuinely excited to see us, which was nice. They viewed me as someone to play with, not as a white-skinned novelty, which was a welcome change from being followed down the street outside our house by shouts of "Mzungu!" (European).
When I chose my placement, I briefly considered volunteering at an orphanage but decided against it. I figured that it was work that could be done by 18-year-old gap year students, and that I would be more useful in a "harder" job where I could use my work experience and education. As I left the orphanage Sunday afternoon, however, I had no doubt which job would be harder. My work with the Mamas may be more complicated, but I was left an emotional wreck by my Sunday-morning visit. It was so hard to be there, and when we left, I never wanted to go back. As we closed the gates behind us, I wanted to run down the road in the opposite direction until I reached the ocean.
And as if I weren't already feeling low enough, Monday made me feel even worse.
I chose that day to visit the UN International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda for the first time. It's based in Arusha (the city's nickname is the Geneva of Africa), and trials are open and free to the public. The experience deserves its own blog post, but suffice it to say that watching a war crimes trial isn't uplifting in the traditional sense of the word. The terrible details of particular deaths and burials on particular days were described matter-of-factly by survivors and perpetrators. It was fascinating, and I went back this afternoon, but I still left the room at lunch grateful for the fresh air and sunshine.
If you can believe it, though, that was the cheeriest part of my day. On my way home from meeting the Mamas (Alex was home sick after a bit of bad pork in town), Mr Shija and I stopped in at a couple of connected houses about halfway down the road. It's a long concrete/plaster building with about four shallow rooms all in a row, and a connecting porch or step along the front. I don't know what facilities or land might be out back, but there's an outdoor cooking area next to it, and there's always washing hung out to dry in front. There are usually people sitting or working out front when we go by, and they always say hello to us and Mr Shija. This time, I was excitedly welcomed by a couple of young women, (I think a bit younger than me, but I'm not sure). They invited me to sit down, gave me a Coke, and asked if Mr Shija could take a picture of us together. I didn't really know what was going on, of course, as everyone was speaking very rapid Swahili. Then Mr Shija said that I was invited in to eat with one of them. It would have been rude to refuse, so I went into her part of the building—one small room, a bit smaller than my bedroom here—and given a plate piled with rice, potatoes, and greens. The room held a bed, a cushioned bench, a rack of clothes, some boxes and crates covered in blankets, and one corner was piled with cooking things. They said they were so happy to have me in their home, and thanked me for joining them, invited me back anytime, etc, but for the life of me I didn't know why. I hadn't really met them before, I had barely conversed with them in my limited Swahili, but I was being treated as an honoured guest. And they didn't seem to be asking for anything in return, either.
I learned that Rosie, the one whose home I was in, had had to drop out of school when she became pregnant. The father lives in Dar, and she can't afford to go back to school. She has tried to set up a small enterprise selling used clothing, but doesn't have any capital and so is struggling with it (I think—the translation there was iffy). She'd like to take the six-month hotel-management course in Arusha to work in the tourism industry, but can't afford it. She lives in that small room with her son (and, I think, her sister), and provides for him all by herself, and yet she invited me in, fed me, and acted like I was the one doing her a favour.
I felt helpless and lost. Rosie isn't an unusual case; there are so many men and women with similar stories and circumstances, and I felt like nothing I could do would ever be enough. There I was, with my biggest worry whether or not I'll be accepted to law school, and I felt so guilty and miserable and hopeless. The fact that Rosie didn't resent me for it just made it worse; I resented myself.
Part of this story has a happy ending, and I'm feeling better today than I did Monday evening. Alex and I went again to the orphanage this morning (I had to psych myself up for it), and were greeted by four smiling young European women making breakfast and changing diapers. Apparently, the Mamas I met on Sunday aren't alone in their work after all, though I didn't learn this through the language barrier the other day. These other volunteers (a German midwife, a Finnish kindergarten teacher, and two German education students, plus another one who's on holiday right now) are there Monday to Friday, and do a wonderful job with the children. Two of them are doing year-long placements sponsored by the Lutheran Church of Bavaria (and a German government grant, I think), while the others are here for about a month each.
The older kids also have nursery school during the week, easing my mind even further. There's a stand-alone building on the orphanage grounds that I hadn't seen inside on the weekend, but has alphabet posters, number charts, pictures, and all that.
Our help was still useful today, of course, and I really enjoyed meeting the other volunteers. After breakfast, we cleaned up, I did a diaper or two, helped with folding some laundry, and of course played with the littlest kids. I sat in the yard with an infant on my lap (I brought an extra shirt to change into, which was good because she spit up on me), while Alex tried to keep a toddler from eating mud. It was a really good morning.
Seeing the kids so happy, and the other volunteers working so hard, made me feel a lot better. My feeling of helplessness is mostly gone, and I'm hopeful and energetic again. Two days ago, anything I can do seemed like a drop in a bucket. Today, it still does, but maybe the bucket is half full. (Geez, that's a schlocky analogy. This blog is now officially owned by Hallmark. The point is, I feel better. And isn't that what counts?)
Baadaye,
Robin
*I don't want to give the impression that everyone here lives in squalor; they don't. There are varying levels of wealth and comfort, with houses like ours (with a gate, power, hot water, and glazed windows) just down the road from two-room houses that shelter families who cook on outdoor fires. (There are also the "middle class" as we'd think of it, and the extremely wealthy, but you mainly see them in Arusha). Mama Hans, who hosts our meetings and is the Mama Machumba Project's secretary, has a home made, I think, of sticks and mud in the traditional style. But she has a large yard, many chickens, banana trees, and separate buildings for sleeping and cooking. They have electricity, and even a small TV set. She's doing very well (it helps that she can read and write, obviously) compared to many of the others in Ambureni Moivaru. But I don't know if she can afford to send all her children to school, or at least until what level. And her life is exhausting; she and her husband work their fingers to the bone just to maintain this small level of comfort they've managed to achieve.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Business update
One of the first expressions I was taught when I arrived here in Tanzania was "pole pole". It means "slowly, slowly," and it's something of a mantra here (though not on the roads or in the markets). Another popular expression is "haraka haraka hena baraka," which means "hurry hurry holds no blessings."
Are you detecting a theme? Alex and I have had to take this pole pole attitude to heart in our business dealings, because otherwise we would have both gone crazy by now.
There have been many unforeseen and foreseen complications and delays. I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow account of everything we've done and all the little problems and successes. Broadly, though, we spent the last month planning the business idea, figuring out pricing, calculating the number of items the Mamas can produce per week, making promotional materials, writing a formal business plan for the tour companies, researching companies, improving the quality and consistency of the products, and finally approaching safari companies. It doesn't sound like a full month's work, but I promise it has been. Pole pole, remember?
The main obstacle, obviously, has been the language barrier. Mr Shija comes with us to translate every time we visit the mamas, but his English isn't perfect and I think sometimes we speak too fast, or the details escape him. We'll have to go over the same ideas a few days in a row sometimes, after discovering that our point was missed. I sometimes get the impression that Mr Shija agrees with us for the sake of it without fully understanding what we're saying, and it can be a bit frustrating. I'm not blaming him; we're all doing the best we can, it's just taking longer than it would if we all spoke the same language—Kiswahili. I really wish I had a better handle of Kiswahili, but even with my little book of language lessons it's slow going. I have a pretty good handle of a lot of food-related nouns, and basic phrases and greetings, but my business and handicrafts vocabulary are sadly lacking.
It hasn't just been the language barrier that's slowed things down. Our safari and my getting sick last week didn't help, and don't even ask about how long it took us to track down a printer with ink that could print double-sided). There's also been some more expected delays, like having to build up our stock of bracelets and coasters (oh, I wish I had photos—they're really beautiful) before we could formally approach the safari companies.
But despite all of this, after a month in Tanzania we've made a sale!
We will be selling the bracelets and coasters in batches of 30 (which is how many the Mamas can make per week), for 90,000 Tanzanian shillings a batch (that's about $70 US, I think). As an incentive, however, we've offered the first batch at a trial price of 75,000 Tsh.
This week, we spoke to two safari companies, both of which have good reputations for giving back to the community. The first one, Access2Tanzania, is run by a friend of Lema's. I had spoken to him informally about our idea a couple of times, and he was very enthusiastic. So Alex and I met with the office manager with our formal pitch—the business plan, a pamphlet we made about Mama Machumba Crafts, the wrapped and unwrapped samples—and she was quite receptive. We're waiting to hear back from the big bosses in the States.
But the second company, Maasai Wanderings, bought a trial pack outright, in cash! We met with the owner, a lovely Australian woman named Donna. Her company has a few other contracts for thank-you gifts, including Maasai beaded bracelets. This is good news, because it means that not only are they set up for this sort of business already , but it's unlikely that she'll be pressing us for more than we can produce.
As arrogant as it may seem, one of my biggest worries is demand outstripping production. The Mamas live busy lives, and right now can only devote an hour or two, four or five times a week. I hope that as the business becomes more successful it will become more worth their while to produce more and that they'll be able to rearrange their priorities, but right now it's an issue. We want these two companies to love the product and want to continue working with us...but not too much!
Assuming that one or both of these tour companies want to buy from us on a regular basis, we have our next steps tentatively mapped out. There is another group of Mamas, called the Nazareth group, who worked with the last set of volunteers in creating a little Tanzanian cookbook. It's been selling slowly in a hotel shop here, and those volunteers (Rachel and Rebekah) have been selling them at home in the U.S. But if this safari tour plan goes well, Alex and I have floated the idea of training the Nazareth Mamas in banana weaving and incorporating them into this project. It would increase their income and our output.
Alex and I also have to work on a monthly budget for Mama Machumba Crafts and creating a simple way for the Mamas to keep track of how many of each item they're each producing. That will be essential to making sure that they're paid fairly for their work, and that we get the right number and kind of products every week.
Even further in the future (and this may be a project that I simply take a few steps on and then leave for the volunteer who's coming this summer), we might be able to get the Mamas making lunchboxes for Maasai wanderings. Most meals on safari are eaten at the lodge or campsite, but there are a couple of lunches eaten at scenic stops during the game drives. Right now, MW uses plastic containers for their guests, but Donna asked us if we'd be able to produce boxes. It would take a lot of work and time to organize, but it could be a wonderful next step for the Mama Machumba business.
Anyway, that's what I've been up to when I'm not looking at lions, eating bananas, or complaining about the heat (good gravy is it hot here! I can't wait for the rainy season to begin, seriously). Thanks to all of you for your constant support!
Upendo,
Robin
Are you detecting a theme? Alex and I have had to take this pole pole attitude to heart in our business dealings, because otherwise we would have both gone crazy by now.
There have been many unforeseen and foreseen complications and delays. I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow account of everything we've done and all the little problems and successes. Broadly, though, we spent the last month planning the business idea, figuring out pricing, calculating the number of items the Mamas can produce per week, making promotional materials, writing a formal business plan for the tour companies, researching companies, improving the quality and consistency of the products, and finally approaching safari companies. It doesn't sound like a full month's work, but I promise it has been. Pole pole, remember?
The main obstacle, obviously, has been the language barrier. Mr Shija comes with us to translate every time we visit the mamas, but his English isn't perfect and I think sometimes we speak too fast, or the details escape him. We'll have to go over the same ideas a few days in a row sometimes, after discovering that our point was missed. I sometimes get the impression that Mr Shija agrees with us for the sake of it without fully understanding what we're saying, and it can be a bit frustrating. I'm not blaming him; we're all doing the best we can, it's just taking longer than it would if we all spoke the same language—Kiswahili. I really wish I had a better handle of Kiswahili, but even with my little book of language lessons it's slow going. I have a pretty good handle of a lot of food-related nouns, and basic phrases and greetings, but my business and handicrafts vocabulary are sadly lacking.
It hasn't just been the language barrier that's slowed things down. Our safari and my getting sick last week didn't help, and don't even ask about how long it took us to track down a printer with ink that could print double-sided). There's also been some more expected delays, like having to build up our stock of bracelets and coasters (oh, I wish I had photos—they're really beautiful) before we could formally approach the safari companies.
But despite all of this, after a month in Tanzania we've made a sale!
We will be selling the bracelets and coasters in batches of 30 (which is how many the Mamas can make per week), for 90,000 Tanzanian shillings a batch (that's about $70 US, I think). As an incentive, however, we've offered the first batch at a trial price of 75,000 Tsh.
This week, we spoke to two safari companies, both of which have good reputations for giving back to the community. The first one, Access2Tanzania, is run by a friend of Lema's. I had spoken to him informally about our idea a couple of times, and he was very enthusiastic. So Alex and I met with the office manager with our formal pitch—the business plan, a pamphlet we made about Mama Machumba Crafts, the wrapped and unwrapped samples—and she was quite receptive. We're waiting to hear back from the big bosses in the States.
But the second company, Maasai Wanderings, bought a trial pack outright, in cash! We met with the owner, a lovely Australian woman named Donna. Her company has a few other contracts for thank-you gifts, including Maasai beaded bracelets. This is good news, because it means that not only are they set up for this sort of business already , but it's unlikely that she'll be pressing us for more than we can produce.
As arrogant as it may seem, one of my biggest worries is demand outstripping production. The Mamas live busy lives, and right now can only devote an hour or two, four or five times a week. I hope that as the business becomes more successful it will become more worth their while to produce more and that they'll be able to rearrange their priorities, but right now it's an issue. We want these two companies to love the product and want to continue working with us...but not too much!
Assuming that one or both of these tour companies want to buy from us on a regular basis, we have our next steps tentatively mapped out. There is another group of Mamas, called the Nazareth group, who worked with the last set of volunteers in creating a little Tanzanian cookbook. It's been selling slowly in a hotel shop here, and those volunteers (Rachel and Rebekah) have been selling them at home in the U.S. But if this safari tour plan goes well, Alex and I have floated the idea of training the Nazareth Mamas in banana weaving and incorporating them into this project. It would increase their income and our output.
Alex and I also have to work on a monthly budget for Mama Machumba Crafts and creating a simple way for the Mamas to keep track of how many of each item they're each producing. That will be essential to making sure that they're paid fairly for their work, and that we get the right number and kind of products every week.
Even further in the future (and this may be a project that I simply take a few steps on and then leave for the volunteer who's coming this summer), we might be able to get the Mamas making lunchboxes for Maasai wanderings. Most meals on safari are eaten at the lodge or campsite, but there are a couple of lunches eaten at scenic stops during the game drives. Right now, MW uses plastic containers for their guests, but Donna asked us if we'd be able to produce boxes. It would take a lot of work and time to organize, but it could be a wonderful next step for the Mama Machumba business.
Anyway, that's what I've been up to when I'm not looking at lions, eating bananas, or complaining about the heat (good gravy is it hot here! I can't wait for the rainy season to begin, seriously). Thanks to all of you for your constant support!
Upendo,
Robin
Sunday, February 28, 2010
TZ history 102: The coast and colonization, part 1
Compared to much of sub-Saharan Africa, Tanzania had very early and extensive contact with non-African cultures, and this is evident in the ethnic, religious, and cultural differences between the upper mainland and Zanzibar and the coast.
The Tanzanian coast, and Zanzibar in particular, were an important part of sea trading routes that touched all parts of the Indian Ocean, and connected (coastal)East Africa to most of the ancient world (who were quite fond of African gold, ivory, and other goods). Ancient Sumerians are known to have visited as long as 4000 years ago, followed around 1000BC by the Phoenicians and Assyrians. Archaeologists have found artifacts like coins, daggers, and jewelry from the Romans, Egyptians, and some Middle Eastern civilizations as well. I read that even later, Tanzania's coast was part of trading networks that went as far as China and Indonesia, which probably introduced coconuts, bananas, and outrigger canoes.
Because of way the monsoon systems travel up and down the coast, traders were forced to stay a while here (or Mozambique, or Kenya, etc) before the the winds changed direction and brought them home. Of course, this means they built towns all up and down the coast, importing their cultures and languages.
The Persians in particular established many permanent settlements along the coast from Somalia to Mozambique. This was the beginning of Swahili civilization, which was a combination of African, Persian, and Arab cultures. (The Kiswahili language is an amalgamation of Bantu, Persian, and Arabic, with thousands more loan words from Portuguese, Hindi, English, and German. It spread inland from the coast along trade routes).
The next powerhouse in the region were the Portuguese, notified of its strategic and economic value by Vasco da Gama, who stopped by on his way to discovering an ocean route to India. They took over the Swahili coast quite quickly in the 1500s, but this disrupted the traditional trading networks and the entire coast apparently began to decline. Portuguese interest waned, and they kept up settlements mainly as staging posts until they were ousted in the region by the Omanis—whose reign is a much more exciting period to learn about, frankly.
The Omanis pretty much controlled the western Indian Ocean (including this part of East Africa) from the 1600s to the 1800s. The now-Tanzanian coast and Zanzibar played a huge role in their dominance. The sultan even moved the Omani capital to Zanzibar in 1841.
The disgusting source of Zanzibar's immense wealth was the slave trade: slaves were transported from all over East Africa to be traded on the island. The markets at Stone Town sold thousands of slaves per year. Money also rolled in from ivory, gold, timber, and spices. Zanzibar once produced four-fifths of all the world's cloves, and it's said that you could smell them from far out to sea. (Though I read a hilarious story of uber-colonialist David Livingstone, whose house was near a swamp, calling the island "Stink-ibar," which really makes me giggle for some reason).
I hope to visit Zanzibar near the end of my trip. I want to take a spice tour and visit Omani and European colonial buildings. The pens under one of the old slave markets have been preserved, and I'd very much like to see that too. From what I've read, the entire island seems so full of history and colour, and very different from the Tanzania where I live.
...More colonial history to come, followed by communism and capitalism. And maybe even some posts about fun things!
The Tanzanian coast, and Zanzibar in particular, were an important part of sea trading routes that touched all parts of the Indian Ocean, and connected (coastal)East Africa to most of the ancient world (who were quite fond of African gold, ivory, and other goods). Ancient Sumerians are known to have visited as long as 4000 years ago, followed around 1000BC by the Phoenicians and Assyrians. Archaeologists have found artifacts like coins, daggers, and jewelry from the Romans, Egyptians, and some Middle Eastern civilizations as well. I read that even later, Tanzania's coast was part of trading networks that went as far as China and Indonesia, which probably introduced coconuts, bananas, and outrigger canoes.
Because of way the monsoon systems travel up and down the coast, traders were forced to stay a while here (or Mozambique, or Kenya, etc) before the the winds changed direction and brought them home. Of course, this means they built towns all up and down the coast, importing their cultures and languages.
The Persians in particular established many permanent settlements along the coast from Somalia to Mozambique. This was the beginning of Swahili civilization, which was a combination of African, Persian, and Arab cultures. (The Kiswahili language is an amalgamation of Bantu, Persian, and Arabic, with thousands more loan words from Portuguese, Hindi, English, and German. It spread inland from the coast along trade routes).
The next powerhouse in the region were the Portuguese, notified of its strategic and economic value by Vasco da Gama, who stopped by on his way to discovering an ocean route to India. They took over the Swahili coast quite quickly in the 1500s, but this disrupted the traditional trading networks and the entire coast apparently began to decline. Portuguese interest waned, and they kept up settlements mainly as staging posts until they were ousted in the region by the Omanis—whose reign is a much more exciting period to learn about, frankly.
The Omanis pretty much controlled the western Indian Ocean (including this part of East Africa) from the 1600s to the 1800s. The now-Tanzanian coast and Zanzibar played a huge role in their dominance. The sultan even moved the Omani capital to Zanzibar in 1841.
The disgusting source of Zanzibar's immense wealth was the slave trade: slaves were transported from all over East Africa to be traded on the island. The markets at Stone Town sold thousands of slaves per year. Money also rolled in from ivory, gold, timber, and spices. Zanzibar once produced four-fifths of all the world's cloves, and it's said that you could smell them from far out to sea. (Though I read a hilarious story of uber-colonialist David Livingstone, whose house was near a swamp, calling the island "Stink-ibar," which really makes me giggle for some reason).
I hope to visit Zanzibar near the end of my trip. I want to take a spice tour and visit Omani and European colonial buildings. The pens under one of the old slave markets have been preserved, and I'd very much like to see that too. From what I've read, the entire island seems so full of history and colour, and very different from the Tanzania where I live.
...More colonial history to come, followed by communism and capitalism. And maybe even some posts about fun things!
Friday, February 26, 2010
Safari!
Hi guys,
Sorry it's been so long since I've posted, but hopefully this huge one will make up for it.
Tanzania has among the highest proportion of national park land and conservation areas of any country in the world, and Alex and I were certainly not going to miss out on a chance to visit some of them while we're here.
On Friday, we embarked on a five-day, four-night camping safari to Lake Manyara national reserve, Serengeti national park, and Ngorongoro conservation area. (The reason we took our little holiday so early into our trip was to avoid the long rains, which usually start in mid-March but are expected to come early this season).
To say the whole experience was spectacular would be gross understatement.
Alex and I shared our Land Cruiser with Kareem, a backpacker from Sweden who is making his way through East Africa. In addition to the three of us, there was another truck from the same safari company doing the same itinerary as us, and we ended up hanging out with them during our trip as well; Gwen and Chris, a couple of Edmontonian engineers now living in Red Deer, and Kelly (Australian) and Na (Finnish), who work as nurses at King Faisel hospital in Saudi Arabia.
On our drive to Manyara, I was surprised by how quickly the landscape changed from the lush foothills to rolling plains and farmland, punctuated by lone hills and a few longer ridges.
Lake Manyara NR is one of the smallest parks in Tanzania, and about half of the protected area is over the lake itself, leaving only about 100km2 to visit, but what it lacks in size it makes up for in concentration of animals. The park is right up against the wall of the Great African Rift, and is unusual in that it is mostly groundwater forest—which is great for its wildlife population, who are mostly permanent residents.
As soon as we entered the park, we came upon a troop of olive baboons (the first of many sightings) at the side of the road. Only moments later, our breath was taken away by a herd of elephants feeding in the trees, including a baby elephant. Lake Manyara has one of the highest densities of elephants in the entire Northern safari circuit, and I'm pretty sure we saw all of them. We saw several families (and more young ones!). We also saw a bunch of enormous, solitary bull elephants—some right next to our truck. One in particular was grazing so close to us that we could smell the plants he was crushing under his feet. I could have counted his eyelashes. They were so beautiful: massive, dusty, and totally relaxed.
The baboons who welcomed us were only the tip of the monkey iceberg. Baboons are well adapted for almost all habitats here, and were everywhere, in the trees and on the ground, at Manyara and all the parks we visited. We saw a couple of blue monkeys at Manyara, but the true monkey highlight for me was the small and energetic vervet monkeys. They're fluffy grey with black faces and the males have bright blue balls. The babies and adolescents were really fun to watch, chasing each other around the trees.
We had our first views at Manyara of a lot of the grazers we'd get to know really well at the later parks: zebras, Thompson's and Grant's gazelles, warthogs, impalas, buffalo, wildebeest. We were also treated to giraffe sightings, which I know words will fail to do justice. We first saw them from a distance on the floodplains next to the lake, silhouetted against the hazy brown and blue and looking tall and thin and otherworldly. How could anything be that big? And when the move (both legs of one side moving together, giving them a swaying, teetering walk), they're so graceful and beautiful.
We even visited a our first hippo pool at Manyara. It was full of huge grey mounds that occasionally raised their faces, and we were even lucky enough to see a few teeth.
Despite our great luck at seeing everything, Lake Manyara is probably best-known as a birder's paradise, and it didn't disappoint here either. The algae in the lake attracts flamingoes en masse, and we saw thousands—it looked like someone had taken a pink crayon and drawn over the lake. We also saw Egyptian geese, black-headed plovers, several kinds of stork, pelicans, superb starlings (my new favourite bird along with lilac-breasted rollers—so colourful!), and probably a zillion others.
Part of Saturday, all Sunday, and part of Monday were spent at probably the most famous park in the world. Serengeti national park is right next to Ngorongoro conservation area, and animals move freely between the two, though people do not. Serengeti has no human residents, just campsites and lodges for tourists and scientists, while the Maasai are permitted to live their traditional lifestyles (they don't hunt or engage in agriculture) in Ngorongoro.
Both parks are part of the area covered by the famous Great Migration, one of the largest remaining animal migrations on earth—and we got to see it in action! The migration (more than 3 million wildebeest, buffalo, zebras, and gazelles participate every year) moves with the rains in a rough oval through Ngorongoro, Serengeti, and up to the Maasai Mera in Kenya. At this time of year, the migration is at Ngorongoro, and we got a great view of all the animals from the road—herds of animals all the way to the horizon in all directions. This is what North America must have looked like before the bison populations were decimated (though with fewer zebras).
As we passed into Serengeti proper in the afternoon, the density of animals thinned out and the land got flatter, becoming that archetypical East African grassland, dotted with acacias and kopjes. Kopjes are big outcroppings of igneous rock that seeped through cracks in the sedimentary rock millions of years ago, and were exposed by erosion. They're very important little ecosystems, as they hold water in the hollows in the rock, becoming oases in the dry season. Good-quality soil has also collected in the crevices, and the kopjes always have plenty of trees and plant life not on the flatland. Put together, this means that they're very popular for wildlife.
Our campsite was right in the middle of the Serengeti—if we left our shoes outside our tents, they'd be stolen by hyenas.
Our Sunday morning game drive was quite different than what we'd experienced in the other parks. Instead of being constantly surrounded by hordes of animals, at Serengeti we went longer between sightings...but what sightings they were!!! SO MANY LIONS!
The first encounter was four lionesses walking right down the road, beside our vehicles! One of them was almost too close to take a good picture—about a foot from truck. They were large and muscled, with huge heads and paws and golden eyes. The second encounter was two lionesses who'd climbed a tree to escape the wet ground, but the third one was the best. It was another female in a tree, this time very close to the side of the road. But reclining at the base of the tree was an enormous male lion! At first we could only see his dark mane, then he turned to give us his face, then he stood up and started to stretch and sharpen his claws against the trunk. Just perfect!
On that drive, we also saw more giraffes, visited another wonderful hippo pool (where a few were rolling around and showed us their neat-looking feet, well-adapted for both walking and swimming). We also saw rock hyraxes at the kopjes (they look sort of like marmots, but their closest relative is actually the elephant), lizards, a dikdik, bat-eared foxes, impalas, warthogs, topis, hartebeest, a big herd of buffalo, and many more birds.
Sunday's evening game drive was as spectacular or more. We saw a lot more of the same animals from the morning, but it was the big cats who owned the afternoon. We saw 3 females at the base of a tree right next to the road with their three cubs, chowing down on the remains of a warthog. The little ones were fighting over the skull, while the mothers rested and occasionally cleaned their young's faces with their tongues. Incredibly cute (though the warthog might disagree). We also saw several more lionesses in trees, a lion and lioness sleeping just feet from the side of the road...and a leopard!
I really had no expectations that we would ever see a leopard, as they're solitary, even more nocturnal than lions, and less common. But there one was, sleeping in a tree, near the water, in front of the most beautiful Serengeti landscape.
We went for one final drive in the Serengeti very early Monday morning, which was mostly notable for the excellent giraffe, hippo, and bird sightings. After brunch, we packed up and drove back through Ngorongoro.
The migration was even better on the way back; there seemed to be twice as many animals, and they were crossing back and forth across the road. We also had our best hyena sightings to date, including one whose face was still red with blood from lunch.
Our campsite that night was the best yet—right on the edge of Ngorongoro crater, with hot showers. We drove through the "crater" on Tuesday morning. Of course, Ngorongoro isn't a crater at all; it's actually an enormous caldera, the remains of an exploded volcano that formed along the Rift Valley fault. The crater hosts many ecosystems. It's mostly flat grass- and scrub-land (well-grazed), but there's also one large lake and several small ones, some forested areas, and several wetlands.
It has probably the highest density of predators of anywhere on Earth. What struck me most was how /full/ it seemed. You can see all the walls from any vantage point in the crater. It's about 120km in diameter, which doesn't seem big enough for everything that we saw, and they were all living side by side. We saw a lioness relaxing near the side of the road, not 50m from some (attentive but calm) Thompson's gazelles. There was also a small pack of hyenas roaming around and checking out herd of buffalo, who tolerated them until one crossed some invisible line. Then a couple of bulls stomped and threatened a bit, and the hyena loped off, unbothered.
I had made sure that I had low expectations going into the crater drive. I knew that there are a few animals here that it's either impossible or very difficult to see anywhere else, but I didn't want to get my hopes up just to be disappointed. This was an unnecessary precaution. In addition to hyenas, a lion, elephants, hippos, jackals, the usual grazers, hundreds of wonderful birds, etc, we were fortunate enough to see both a cheetah (relaxing in the long grass) AND either six or eight critically endangered black rhinos (two may have been repeats). To put that in perspective, there are only about 13 left in the crater. Once common in all of east and southern Africa, their populations were decimated by poaching in the 20th century: their horns were once worth more than gold, valued in Asia as an aphrodisiac and on the Arabian peninsula as material for a kind of special dagger. There are fewer than 500 in all of Kenya, and under a hundred in Tanzania. We all felt unbelievable fortunate to get a glimpse of the huge (and hugely dangerous) animals. They were far away, but with the binoculars we could see them quite well.
I wish you all could have been there to see it.
Upendo,
Robin
Sorry it's been so long since I've posted, but hopefully this huge one will make up for it.
Tanzania has among the highest proportion of national park land and conservation areas of any country in the world, and Alex and I were certainly not going to miss out on a chance to visit some of them while we're here.
On Friday, we embarked on a five-day, four-night camping safari to Lake Manyara national reserve, Serengeti national park, and Ngorongoro conservation area. (The reason we took our little holiday so early into our trip was to avoid the long rains, which usually start in mid-March but are expected to come early this season).
To say the whole experience was spectacular would be gross understatement.
Alex and I shared our Land Cruiser with Kareem, a backpacker from Sweden who is making his way through East Africa. In addition to the three of us, there was another truck from the same safari company doing the same itinerary as us, and we ended up hanging out with them during our trip as well; Gwen and Chris, a couple of Edmontonian engineers now living in Red Deer, and Kelly (Australian) and Na (Finnish), who work as nurses at King Faisel hospital in Saudi Arabia.
On our drive to Manyara, I was surprised by how quickly the landscape changed from the lush foothills to rolling plains and farmland, punctuated by lone hills and a few longer ridges.
Lake Manyara NR is one of the smallest parks in Tanzania, and about half of the protected area is over the lake itself, leaving only about 100km2 to visit, but what it lacks in size it makes up for in concentration of animals. The park is right up against the wall of the Great African Rift, and is unusual in that it is mostly groundwater forest—which is great for its wildlife population, who are mostly permanent residents.
As soon as we entered the park, we came upon a troop of olive baboons (the first of many sightings) at the side of the road. Only moments later, our breath was taken away by a herd of elephants feeding in the trees, including a baby elephant. Lake Manyara has one of the highest densities of elephants in the entire Northern safari circuit, and I'm pretty sure we saw all of them. We saw several families (and more young ones!). We also saw a bunch of enormous, solitary bull elephants—some right next to our truck. One in particular was grazing so close to us that we could smell the plants he was crushing under his feet. I could have counted his eyelashes. They were so beautiful: massive, dusty, and totally relaxed.
The baboons who welcomed us were only the tip of the monkey iceberg. Baboons are well adapted for almost all habitats here, and were everywhere, in the trees and on the ground, at Manyara and all the parks we visited. We saw a couple of blue monkeys at Manyara, but the true monkey highlight for me was the small and energetic vervet monkeys. They're fluffy grey with black faces and the males have bright blue balls. The babies and adolescents were really fun to watch, chasing each other around the trees.
We had our first views at Manyara of a lot of the grazers we'd get to know really well at the later parks: zebras, Thompson's and Grant's gazelles, warthogs, impalas, buffalo, wildebeest. We were also treated to giraffe sightings, which I know words will fail to do justice. We first saw them from a distance on the floodplains next to the lake, silhouetted against the hazy brown and blue and looking tall and thin and otherworldly. How could anything be that big? And when the move (both legs of one side moving together, giving them a swaying, teetering walk), they're so graceful and beautiful.
We even visited a our first hippo pool at Manyara. It was full of huge grey mounds that occasionally raised their faces, and we were even lucky enough to see a few teeth.
Despite our great luck at seeing everything, Lake Manyara is probably best-known as a birder's paradise, and it didn't disappoint here either. The algae in the lake attracts flamingoes en masse, and we saw thousands—it looked like someone had taken a pink crayon and drawn over the lake. We also saw Egyptian geese, black-headed plovers, several kinds of stork, pelicans, superb starlings (my new favourite bird along with lilac-breasted rollers—so colourful!), and probably a zillion others.
Part of Saturday, all Sunday, and part of Monday were spent at probably the most famous park in the world. Serengeti national park is right next to Ngorongoro conservation area, and animals move freely between the two, though people do not. Serengeti has no human residents, just campsites and lodges for tourists and scientists, while the Maasai are permitted to live their traditional lifestyles (they don't hunt or engage in agriculture) in Ngorongoro.
Both parks are part of the area covered by the famous Great Migration, one of the largest remaining animal migrations on earth—and we got to see it in action! The migration (more than 3 million wildebeest, buffalo, zebras, and gazelles participate every year) moves with the rains in a rough oval through Ngorongoro, Serengeti, and up to the Maasai Mera in Kenya. At this time of year, the migration is at Ngorongoro, and we got a great view of all the animals from the road—herds of animals all the way to the horizon in all directions. This is what North America must have looked like before the bison populations were decimated (though with fewer zebras).
As we passed into Serengeti proper in the afternoon, the density of animals thinned out and the land got flatter, becoming that archetypical East African grassland, dotted with acacias and kopjes. Kopjes are big outcroppings of igneous rock that seeped through cracks in the sedimentary rock millions of years ago, and were exposed by erosion. They're very important little ecosystems, as they hold water in the hollows in the rock, becoming oases in the dry season. Good-quality soil has also collected in the crevices, and the kopjes always have plenty of trees and plant life not on the flatland. Put together, this means that they're very popular for wildlife.
Our campsite was right in the middle of the Serengeti—if we left our shoes outside our tents, they'd be stolen by hyenas.
Our Sunday morning game drive was quite different than what we'd experienced in the other parks. Instead of being constantly surrounded by hordes of animals, at Serengeti we went longer between sightings...but what sightings they were!!! SO MANY LIONS!
The first encounter was four lionesses walking right down the road, beside our vehicles! One of them was almost too close to take a good picture—about a foot from truck. They were large and muscled, with huge heads and paws and golden eyes. The second encounter was two lionesses who'd climbed a tree to escape the wet ground, but the third one was the best. It was another female in a tree, this time very close to the side of the road. But reclining at the base of the tree was an enormous male lion! At first we could only see his dark mane, then he turned to give us his face, then he stood up and started to stretch and sharpen his claws against the trunk. Just perfect!
On that drive, we also saw more giraffes, visited another wonderful hippo pool (where a few were rolling around and showed us their neat-looking feet, well-adapted for both walking and swimming). We also saw rock hyraxes at the kopjes (they look sort of like marmots, but their closest relative is actually the elephant), lizards, a dikdik, bat-eared foxes, impalas, warthogs, topis, hartebeest, a big herd of buffalo, and many more birds.
Sunday's evening game drive was as spectacular or more. We saw a lot more of the same animals from the morning, but it was the big cats who owned the afternoon. We saw 3 females at the base of a tree right next to the road with their three cubs, chowing down on the remains of a warthog. The little ones were fighting over the skull, while the mothers rested and occasionally cleaned their young's faces with their tongues. Incredibly cute (though the warthog might disagree). We also saw several more lionesses in trees, a lion and lioness sleeping just feet from the side of the road...and a leopard!
I really had no expectations that we would ever see a leopard, as they're solitary, even more nocturnal than lions, and less common. But there one was, sleeping in a tree, near the water, in front of the most beautiful Serengeti landscape.
We went for one final drive in the Serengeti very early Monday morning, which was mostly notable for the excellent giraffe, hippo, and bird sightings. After brunch, we packed up and drove back through Ngorongoro.
The migration was even better on the way back; there seemed to be twice as many animals, and they were crossing back and forth across the road. We also had our best hyena sightings to date, including one whose face was still red with blood from lunch.
Our campsite that night was the best yet—right on the edge of Ngorongoro crater, with hot showers. We drove through the "crater" on Tuesday morning. Of course, Ngorongoro isn't a crater at all; it's actually an enormous caldera, the remains of an exploded volcano that formed along the Rift Valley fault. The crater hosts many ecosystems. It's mostly flat grass- and scrub-land (well-grazed), but there's also one large lake and several small ones, some forested areas, and several wetlands.
It has probably the highest density of predators of anywhere on Earth. What struck me most was how /full/ it seemed. You can see all the walls from any vantage point in the crater. It's about 120km in diameter, which doesn't seem big enough for everything that we saw, and they were all living side by side. We saw a lioness relaxing near the side of the road, not 50m from some (attentive but calm) Thompson's gazelles. There was also a small pack of hyenas roaming around and checking out herd of buffalo, who tolerated them until one crossed some invisible line. Then a couple of bulls stomped and threatened a bit, and the hyena loped off, unbothered.
I had made sure that I had low expectations going into the crater drive. I knew that there are a few animals here that it's either impossible or very difficult to see anywhere else, but I didn't want to get my hopes up just to be disappointed. This was an unnecessary precaution. In addition to hyenas, a lion, elephants, hippos, jackals, the usual grazers, hundreds of wonderful birds, etc, we were fortunate enough to see both a cheetah (relaxing in the long grass) AND either six or eight critically endangered black rhinos (two may have been repeats). To put that in perspective, there are only about 13 left in the crater. Once common in all of east and southern Africa, their populations were decimated by poaching in the 20th century: their horns were once worth more than gold, valued in Asia as an aphrodisiac and on the Arabian peninsula as material for a kind of special dagger. There are fewer than 500 in all of Kenya, and under a hundred in Tanzania. We all felt unbelievable fortunate to get a glimpse of the huge (and hugely dangerous) animals. They were far away, but with the binoculars we could see them quite well.
I wish you all could have been there to see it.
Upendo,
Robin
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Word pictures will have to do...
You'll likely have noticed that I haven't put any photos up; for all you know, I could be hiding in a basement in Oshawa (I'm not).
I swear I'm trying to provide photographic proof of my adventures, but it's been a struggle. I've been taking oodles and oodles of photos, but it's the uploading that's the problem. I don't have access to great internet connections, you see. I have been unable to upload to any site, and I can't even email them to myself.
This is as much a nuisance for me as it is for you! I really wanted to post pictures of a hike we did on Sunday, for instance. Our neighbour Freddie, who speaks quite good English, walked with Alex and I up to a set of beautiful waterfalls. It was about a 45-minute walk (fairly steep) further up Mt Meru from Tengeru, to the edge of a ravine. Using all fours, and grabbing any solid rocks or branches, we then scrambled down a very steep, dusty little route to the bottom—to call it a path would be grossly overstating the case.
But it was immensely worth it. The lush ravine was full of flowers and greenery, and a minute's walk brought us to the waterfall. The water rushed out of a small gap at the top of the cliff into a lovely pool, while water seeped out of the cliffs on either side of the main cataract.
I'm sorry I can't show you how lovely it was, and how beautiful and interesting everything is here. I suppose I'll just have to bore you all with an old-fashioned slide show when we get home, Patty- and Selma-style.
Samahani (sorry),
Robin
I swear I'm trying to provide photographic proof of my adventures, but it's been a struggle. I've been taking oodles and oodles of photos, but it's the uploading that's the problem. I don't have access to great internet connections, you see. I have been unable to upload to any site, and I can't even email them to myself.
This is as much a nuisance for me as it is for you! I really wanted to post pictures of a hike we did on Sunday, for instance. Our neighbour Freddie, who speaks quite good English, walked with Alex and I up to a set of beautiful waterfalls. It was about a 45-minute walk (fairly steep) further up Mt Meru from Tengeru, to the edge of a ravine. Using all fours, and grabbing any solid rocks or branches, we then scrambled down a very steep, dusty little route to the bottom—to call it a path would be grossly overstating the case.
But it was immensely worth it. The lush ravine was full of flowers and greenery, and a minute's walk brought us to the waterfall. The water rushed out of a small gap at the top of the cliff into a lovely pool, while water seeped out of the cliffs on either side of the main cataract.
I'm sorry I can't show you how lovely it was, and how beautiful and interesting everything is here. I suppose I'll just have to bore you all with an old-fashioned slide show when we get home, Patty- and Selma-style.
Samahani (sorry),
Robin
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Tanzanian History 101
I keep waxing on about how wonderful and magical it is here, but I suppose I haven't actually told you much about Tanzania and its history, have I?
So google it, you lazybones.
Just kidding.
Tanzania has a rich fossil record, including the Australopethicus afarensis footprints found in the 1970s that showed that human ancestors were walking upright at least 3.75 million years ago. There are also extensive prehistoric rock paintings south of us at Kondoa Irangi. But I'll spare you the ancient history.
No wait, I won't (it's important for context!). There are about 126 government-recognized distinct tribal groups living in TZ, the most of any East African country, and second-only in Africa to the Democratic Republic of the Congo for diversity. Unlike the DRC however, all of these groups and sub-groups have coexisted very peacefully for at least the last century, despite having completely different customs, traditions, and sometimes even languages. The majority of tribes in TZ can be classified as either Bantu or Nilotic.
The Bantu people are believed to originate on the West coast of Africa, in what is now Cameroon, and are now spread throughout the tropical best of sub-Saharan Africa, where they split into now-distinct tribes. Experts think that the first wave of Bantu migration reached Tanzania over two thousand years ago. They're traditionally agricultural peoples: mixed farmers who didn't graze their cattle but instead kept their one or two animals in their homes with them to protect them from raiders. The Bantu were also known for their high-quality iron-work. Steel tools excavated near Lake Victoria show that until the Europeans perfected mass-produced steel in the 19th century, Tanzanian furnaces were producing the best steel in the world.
The Nilotic people, as the name suggests, are believed to originate from around the Nile in Northeast Africa. They include some of the most iconic peoples of East Africa: the Maasai, the bushmen, and the Barubec. We can see their migration from the names given to places they passed through; Khartoum, Nairobi, and Arusha are all Maasai names, for instance. The Nilotic languages are completely unique from all other tribal groups in Africa.
The Maasai are grazers, their livings entirely dependent on the their cattle. They migrated south to find new grazing land for their cattle. They believe it's an offense to God to break the earth, and do no farming at all, nor to they eat naturally found fruit or veg (because there isn't any on the steppes). They eat dairy, blood, and meat. That's it.
The Nilotic people reached TZ after the Bantu, and their lifestyles naturally clashed, which stopped their southern migration. Some of the other Nilotic people were hunter-gatherers only, and lived peacefully with the Bantu, but not the Maasai. They believe that all cattle (of the hump-backed African variety) are a divine gift to them alone, and began raiding Bantu cattle. Experts say that this is when Bantu started keeping their animals indoors or in stalls rather than in corrals, and reduced the number of cows they owned so that it was no longer worth the Maasai's while to rustle them.
The Maasai still live a very traditional lifestyle, though it's under serious threat. Their traditional grazing lands have been converted into national parks, restricting their livelihoods and meaning that the land they can access has been overgrazed and facing serious erosion problems. Secondly, the Tanzanian government offers generous scholarships to Maasai children to go away to school—but the catch is that Tanzanian schools are notorious for denigrating traditional ways of life. Instead of teaching that traditional customs can be improved but maintained—teaching that female genital mutilation is wrong is great, but the schools also preach that only a western-style house is healthy, and requires they remove all their Maasai clothes and jewelry.
Where we are in Arusha region, the predominant tribes are the Meru and Machame, which are a Bantu people and are believed to be "recently" separated, as they share many customs and beliefs, live in similar traditional homes, and speak the same language (though with distinct accents). The Machame settled on the slopes of Kilimanjaro, while the Meru live, of course, around Mt Meru.
We often see Maasai walking through Arusha, though they mostly live on the flatter, more arid land west of here. They're immediately identifiable by their white teeth (all that milk) their stretched ears, jewelry, and traditional clothes. But sometimes looks can be deceiving - some of these men and women are actually of the Larusa tribe (from which Arusha takes its name—it's literally "place of polluted Maasai"). They're ethnic Maasai who at some point in the past where forced to take up agriculture, either because they'd been expelled by their tribe or lost their land in one of the many skirmishes between the Maasai and the Meru.
Of course not everyone we've met has been Meru, Machame, Larusa, or Maasai, as there is free movement of people throughout the country and nothing to stop someone from say, Kigoma, from buying land here. And though those who've lived here all their lives may resent rich retirees from other parts of the country coming in and buying all the best land, it's still peaceful and neighbourly for the most part.
More to come, marafiki!
Upendo,
Robin
So google it, you lazybones.
Just kidding.
Tanzania has a rich fossil record, including the Australopethicus afarensis footprints found in the 1970s that showed that human ancestors were walking upright at least 3.75 million years ago. There are also extensive prehistoric rock paintings south of us at Kondoa Irangi. But I'll spare you the ancient history.
No wait, I won't (it's important for context!). There are about 126 government-recognized distinct tribal groups living in TZ, the most of any East African country, and second-only in Africa to the Democratic Republic of the Congo for diversity. Unlike the DRC however, all of these groups and sub-groups have coexisted very peacefully for at least the last century, despite having completely different customs, traditions, and sometimes even languages. The majority of tribes in TZ can be classified as either Bantu or Nilotic.
The Bantu people are believed to originate on the West coast of Africa, in what is now Cameroon, and are now spread throughout the tropical best of sub-Saharan Africa, where they split into now-distinct tribes. Experts think that the first wave of Bantu migration reached Tanzania over two thousand years ago. They're traditionally agricultural peoples: mixed farmers who didn't graze their cattle but instead kept their one or two animals in their homes with them to protect them from raiders. The Bantu were also known for their high-quality iron-work. Steel tools excavated near Lake Victoria show that until the Europeans perfected mass-produced steel in the 19th century, Tanzanian furnaces were producing the best steel in the world.
The Nilotic people, as the name suggests, are believed to originate from around the Nile in Northeast Africa. They include some of the most iconic peoples of East Africa: the Maasai, the bushmen, and the Barubec. We can see their migration from the names given to places they passed through; Khartoum, Nairobi, and Arusha are all Maasai names, for instance. The Nilotic languages are completely unique from all other tribal groups in Africa.
The Maasai are grazers, their livings entirely dependent on the their cattle. They migrated south to find new grazing land for their cattle. They believe it's an offense to God to break the earth, and do no farming at all, nor to they eat naturally found fruit or veg (because there isn't any on the steppes). They eat dairy, blood, and meat. That's it.
The Nilotic people reached TZ after the Bantu, and their lifestyles naturally clashed, which stopped their southern migration. Some of the other Nilotic people were hunter-gatherers only, and lived peacefully with the Bantu, but not the Maasai. They believe that all cattle (of the hump-backed African variety) are a divine gift to them alone, and began raiding Bantu cattle. Experts say that this is when Bantu started keeping their animals indoors or in stalls rather than in corrals, and reduced the number of cows they owned so that it was no longer worth the Maasai's while to rustle them.
The Maasai still live a very traditional lifestyle, though it's under serious threat. Their traditional grazing lands have been converted into national parks, restricting their livelihoods and meaning that the land they can access has been overgrazed and facing serious erosion problems. Secondly, the Tanzanian government offers generous scholarships to Maasai children to go away to school—but the catch is that Tanzanian schools are notorious for denigrating traditional ways of life. Instead of teaching that traditional customs can be improved but maintained—teaching that female genital mutilation is wrong is great, but the schools also preach that only a western-style house is healthy, and requires they remove all their Maasai clothes and jewelry.
Where we are in Arusha region, the predominant tribes are the Meru and Machame, which are a Bantu people and are believed to be "recently" separated, as they share many customs and beliefs, live in similar traditional homes, and speak the same language (though with distinct accents). The Machame settled on the slopes of Kilimanjaro, while the Meru live, of course, around Mt Meru.
We often see Maasai walking through Arusha, though they mostly live on the flatter, more arid land west of here. They're immediately identifiable by their white teeth (all that milk) their stretched ears, jewelry, and traditional clothes. But sometimes looks can be deceiving - some of these men and women are actually of the Larusa tribe (from which Arusha takes its name—it's literally "place of polluted Maasai"). They're ethnic Maasai who at some point in the past where forced to take up agriculture, either because they'd been expelled by their tribe or lost their land in one of the many skirmishes between the Maasai and the Meru.
Of course not everyone we've met has been Meru, Machame, Larusa, or Maasai, as there is free movement of people throughout the country and nothing to stop someone from say, Kigoma, from buying land here. And though those who've lived here all their lives may resent rich retirees from other parts of the country coming in and buying all the best land, it's still peaceful and neighbourly for the most part.
More to come, marafiki!
Upendo,
Robin
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Hi ho, hi ho...
Hello again from Tengeru!
Alex and I have now been introduced to our project, and are both very excited to have begun work.
The charity that we're working with is called Educare, which was founded by Mr Shija as a way to change his community for the better. Despite being hampered by too few resources, he has a number of projects on the go, from the women's empowerment stuff that Alex and I are working on to microlending and sponsoring orphans. He has almost too many ideas—we have to focus on one project at a time!
Our first undertaking will be with a cooperative who call themselves the Mama Machumbas (Mama is a generic term of respect for women, and Machumba is the name of their subvillage). They're a great group of women, so friendly and patient with us. They all have families (though there are a few widows in the group) and other responsibilities. The Mama Machumba project is a way for them to gain some much-needed income beyond the bit that they earn from selling surplus milk or produce. An estimated 65-75% of people in Amburani Moivaro village, of which Machumba is a part, subsist on less than $1 US a day.
Last summer, they worked with a volunteer who helped them get training in how to weave banana fibres into bracelets, mats, baskets, and that sort of thing. Taking it up where Erika left off, we plan to help them find distributors (here and perhaps abroad) and diversify the business.
Banana-fibre handicrafts are quite common at the markets here, but they're all imported from Kenya, where they're mass-produced supercheaply and at a pretty low quality. Additionally, the money just goes to rich Kenyan businessmen, rather than to the community. Unfortunately, they're falsely marketed to tourists as "authentically Tanzanian."
Alex and I have looked at what the Mama Machumbas are able to create, and I'm really impressed. It's definitely better than the stuff I saw for sale a few days ago at the market in Arusha, and we can work with that. Our first step will be to try to open up deals with a few of the local safari and climbing tour companies: they would buy a bunch of bracelets/coaster sets and give them out at the end of their tours as a thank-you gift. They would look generous (though of course the cost of the gift would be included in the tour price!) and also show themselves to be a supportive member of the community, rather than exploitative. They would explain as they gave their clients the item that it was an authentic piece, handcrafted by a local women's cooperative.
It would create a great market for the women, and excellent PR for the tour groups. There's one company in particular that already gives back to the community a lot, we're going to start with them because we know
they'll be at least receptive to the idea. We also informally pitched the idea to one of Lema's friends, who owns a large tour company, while he was over for lunch yesterday.
Since it's essentially cost-free for the companies themselves, with huge PR benefits for them, we're very optimistic that we will be able to convince at least a couple of tour companies to at least give us a chance. Of course, before we go to them we have to work out all the details of what we can promise and what we'll charge, in addition to creating a smooth and convincing pitch, but we hope to start meeting with tour companies by midweek next week. Wish us luck.
Outside of our project work, Alex and I are still enjoying ourselves immensely. I feel very comfortable at our home, and enjoy walking around our village and meeting Lema's friends and family, who often stop by. We're also planning where and when we'll go on safari—we hope to do it before the long rains come in earnest. My Swahili is improving pole pole (slowly slowly) as well.
Badai mrafiki,
Robin
Alex and I have now been introduced to our project, and are both very excited to have begun work.
The charity that we're working with is called Educare, which was founded by Mr Shija as a way to change his community for the better. Despite being hampered by too few resources, he has a number of projects on the go, from the women's empowerment stuff that Alex and I are working on to microlending and sponsoring orphans. He has almost too many ideas—we have to focus on one project at a time!
Our first undertaking will be with a cooperative who call themselves the Mama Machumbas (Mama is a generic term of respect for women, and Machumba is the name of their subvillage). They're a great group of women, so friendly and patient with us. They all have families (though there are a few widows in the group) and other responsibilities. The Mama Machumba project is a way for them to gain some much-needed income beyond the bit that they earn from selling surplus milk or produce. An estimated 65-75% of people in Amburani Moivaro village, of which Machumba is a part, subsist on less than $1 US a day.
Last summer, they worked with a volunteer who helped them get training in how to weave banana fibres into bracelets, mats, baskets, and that sort of thing. Taking it up where Erika left off, we plan to help them find distributors (here and perhaps abroad) and diversify the business.
Banana-fibre handicrafts are quite common at the markets here, but they're all imported from Kenya, where they're mass-produced supercheaply and at a pretty low quality. Additionally, the money just goes to rich Kenyan businessmen, rather than to the community. Unfortunately, they're falsely marketed to tourists as "authentically Tanzanian."
Alex and I have looked at what the Mama Machumbas are able to create, and I'm really impressed. It's definitely better than the stuff I saw for sale a few days ago at the market in Arusha, and we can work with that. Our first step will be to try to open up deals with a few of the local safari and climbing tour companies: they would buy a bunch of bracelets/coaster sets and give them out at the end of their tours as a thank-you gift. They would look generous (though of course the cost of the gift would be included in the tour price!) and also show themselves to be a supportive member of the community, rather than exploitative. They would explain as they gave their clients the item that it was an authentic piece, handcrafted by a local women's cooperative.
It would create a great market for the women, and excellent PR for the tour groups. There's one company in particular that already gives back to the community a lot, we're going to start with them because we know
they'll be at least receptive to the idea. We also informally pitched the idea to one of Lema's friends, who owns a large tour company, while he was over for lunch yesterday.
Since it's essentially cost-free for the companies themselves, with huge PR benefits for them, we're very optimistic that we will be able to convince at least a couple of tour companies to at least give us a chance. Of course, before we go to them we have to work out all the details of what we can promise and what we'll charge, in addition to creating a smooth and convincing pitch, but we hope to start meeting with tour companies by midweek next week. Wish us luck.
Outside of our project work, Alex and I are still enjoying ourselves immensely. I feel very comfortable at our home, and enjoy walking around our village and meeting Lema's friends and family, who often stop by. We're also planning where and when we'll go on safari—we hope to do it before the long rains come in earnest. My Swahili is improving pole pole (slowly slowly) as well.
Badai mrafiki,
Robin
Sunday, February 7, 2010
I've arrived
So, I ran away to Tanzania!
I will be here for three months, working for the a charity called Edu-Care, and the Tengeru Cultural Initiative. I'll blog more about the program once I've started working.
I am living in the village of Tengeru, which is about 10km from Arusha town proper (the capital of the Arusha region). Tengeru doesn't look like what you or I would normally consider a village, because it (like almost everywhere in Tanzania) was never planned. There aren't even actual addresses — just bendy roads with little shops and gated yards or patches of grass with goats grazing. It's incredibly lush, with trees and flowers everywhere, including banana trees (which are a major cash crop in this region, along with maize and coffee).
Our volunteer house is owned by Lema, a really nice man with infinite patience who knows all about the history, politics, and culture of Tanzania and Arusha in particular. Zai lives with us as well, and does most of the cooking and cleaning, though Lema has promised me that I'll know how to cook all the delicious Tanzanian food we're eating by the time I come home. Zai doesn't speak English, but she's trying to learn. Just this afternoon, she and I sat at the table and read the Swahili-English dictionary section of my Rough Guide to each other. It was hilarious for both of us.
The house itself is very comfortable, and it has a lovely porch and is surrounded by beautiful trees and shrubs (which hide the garden walls). There's a mango tree in the backyard, and butterflies seem to love the bushes. All day we can hear children playing, birds singing, cows mooing, and roosters making their unholy racket. I'm in love with it.
The "us" of which I keep speaking is me and Alex, the only other volunteer. He's from Waterloo, and he just graduated this fall from Laurier. We share the same birthday, and he was Arts editor then EIC of the Cord. We've been to the same conferences (and own the same tshirt), yet somehow had no facebook friends in common. We also share the same birthday, though a year apart, which we'll be celebrating here in TZ. Also, he's a huge Joel Plaskett fan. I think we'll get along juuuust fine.
More stories (and photos) to come! Love you all,
Robin
I will be here for three months, working for the a charity called Edu-Care, and the Tengeru Cultural Initiative. I'll blog more about the program once I've started working.
I am living in the village of Tengeru, which is about 10km from Arusha town proper (the capital of the Arusha region). Tengeru doesn't look like what you or I would normally consider a village, because it (like almost everywhere in Tanzania) was never planned. There aren't even actual addresses — just bendy roads with little shops and gated yards or patches of grass with goats grazing. It's incredibly lush, with trees and flowers everywhere, including banana trees (which are a major cash crop in this region, along with maize and coffee).
Our volunteer house is owned by Lema, a really nice man with infinite patience who knows all about the history, politics, and culture of Tanzania and Arusha in particular. Zai lives with us as well, and does most of the cooking and cleaning, though Lema has promised me that I'll know how to cook all the delicious Tanzanian food we're eating by the time I come home. Zai doesn't speak English, but she's trying to learn. Just this afternoon, she and I sat at the table and read the Swahili-English dictionary section of my Rough Guide to each other. It was hilarious for both of us.
The house itself is very comfortable, and it has a lovely porch and is surrounded by beautiful trees and shrubs (which hide the garden walls). There's a mango tree in the backyard, and butterflies seem to love the bushes. All day we can hear children playing, birds singing, cows mooing, and roosters making their unholy racket. I'm in love with it.
The "us" of which I keep speaking is me and Alex, the only other volunteer. He's from Waterloo, and he just graduated this fall from Laurier. We share the same birthday, and he was Arts editor then EIC of the Cord. We've been to the same conferences (and own the same tshirt), yet somehow had no facebook friends in common. We also share the same birthday, though a year apart, which we'll be celebrating here in TZ. Also, he's a huge Joel Plaskett fan. I think we'll get along juuuust fine.
More stories (and photos) to come! Love you all,
Robin
Saturday, January 30, 2010
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