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!

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.

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.

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).

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.

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

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!