My trip here is soon ending. The plane takes off at 5:15pm and I have promised my family and friends in the States that I will be at the Kansas City airport tomorrow at 5pm when it lands.
Last week I taught Sustainable Agriculture for just two days so that I could spend one day interviewing doctors and nurses at the Tengeru District Hospital to gather last bits of information for my research. This semester I will use my research to supplement my thesis of studying how Tanzanians make decisions about treating illness and what needs to be done to improve the health of Tanzania. Before this project, I will compile the observations I have made about the role of GSC and other NGO's in implementing social services and people's attitudes towards these NGO's. I will also create a presentation with information about parasites and diseases that are common in Tanzania.
On Wednesday, a Rockhurst friend who was also volunteering in East Africa met me in Arusha and I gave her a tour of the city that has been my summer home. We left for Dar es Salaam on Thursday, the first leg of our journey to Zanzibar. After over two months of service work, we wanted to spend just a few days relaxing before returning just in time for the fall semester. Zanzibar provided for us an incredible vacation location. The white sand beaches, crystal blue waters, and Arabian culture made for an enjoyable weekend complete with snorkeling, star-fish, late-night dancing, and Arabic lessons. The 3-day stay was just long enough before coming back to Arusha for last goodbyes.
It is difficult to leave, but exciting things await for me in the States. Someday I want to return to Tanzania: when- I do not know, but soon. Until I know, back to the States I fly!
Thanks to all who have supported this trip. I hope you have enjoyed these blogs and experiences that I have shared!
Kwaherini.
A Journey in Tanzania
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Under the African Sky
We worked in another Maasai village
last week, this one having a similar environment as the very first
one I visited. I woke up every morning to the sounds of birds
chirping, trees blowing, our host family beginning their morning
chores and the faint sound of a whip snapping the air as some farmer
worked to herd his cattle. We vaccinated kuku (chickens) against
Newcastle disease in the early mornings, walking from boma (house) to
boma with a local mama who will be the volunteer community trainer
after we are gone, helping her neighbors vaccinate their kuku every
three months. Newcastle disease has no cure, and is the most common
disease among chickens in TZ. Fortunately the vaccine is available,
inexpensive and effective, reducing the risk of disease from 70% to
10%. GSC's chicken vaccination program is its most successful in
terms of follow-up participation and sustainability, in fact GSC's
county director is working to expand the program to increase the
number of villages and regions it serves. This week alone we
vaccinated over 800 chickens in over 100 homes. The community
trainers will encourage the neighbors to continue purchasing the
vaccine and assist with the vaccination to ensure the kuku are free
of the disease.
After these chilly morning walks we
returned to our campsite for breakfast. With coffee and chai, we
were always served bread with peanut butter, jelly, hard-boiled eggs,
bananas, oranges, and maandazi (similar to a fried doughnut). Then
myself, and three others went to the village center to teach
Sustainable Agriculture while the remaining groups worked on Applied
Technology projects like building hafirs or grain storage bins. The
students in our class was split 8 to 9, males to females and they
were all young to middle-aged farmers. They chose to build a compost
pile and a double-dug bed for the class practical, so on Thursday we
did both for one of the mamas whom the class selected to help. This
mama is extending her vegetable garden and was excited to use the new
techniques we taught her in class. Using these Bio-intensive
techniques like composting, nurseries, and double-dug beds is more
difficult for larger farms, but with careful planning and dedication
a gradual transition is possible.
The main crops I saw growing on the
hillsides were maize, wheat, flowers, beans, and tobacco. One of my
students told me he farms 17 acres with maize, beans, and wheat. A
portion of his crop is kept for his family and the rest is sold in
the market for income. Planting and harvesting is mostly done by
hand or with animals, although it is not uncommon for a few villagers
to own their own tractors then rent and share it with others.
One of the major problems for farmers
here is water. It rains just a few months out of the year (although
more here than in Naitolia, the village I stayed at just before), and
much of hillsides are eroding terribly. The BIA method GSC teaches
addresses these problem by preparing the soil for better water
absorption. Of the projects we worked on this week, I think building
the hafirs and a grain storage will be most beneficial for the
farmers. Hafirs are low-cost water tanks that collect rain water so
it can be stored and used later for crops. The hafirs are 1.5 meters
wide and the length varies depending on the amount of available
space. GSC built five hafirs during the week and a few other
interested farmers were given tarps to build their own. The grain
storage unit was constructed by first building a stone and cement
foundation, inserting a spout at the bottom to empty the grain. Then
we filled a hemp bag with sawdust to hold the shape of the bin,
moistened the hemp bag, and plastered on three layers of cement,
shaping the final layer until smooth. A lid was shaped out of wire,
covered with cement, and placed on top when dried. These bins are
approximately 7 foot high and about 1.5 meters in diameter. Many of
the farmers do not practice any method of grain storage, instead
letting surplus grain sit in the fields or feeding it to livestock.
Though surprisingly, there was not a great interest in this bins; we
built just one grain storage bin during the week.
Throughout the summer I have been
conducting research on the use of herbal and artificial medicines. I
have interviewed secondary school students on how they make decisions
as to what type they use, as well as village midwives and traditional
doctors to learn what illnesses people seek artificial treatments
for. I interviewed a midwife at a village dispensary near Olchorovus
and learned more about the problem of dust for many people. The
midwife told me the primary problems people come to the dispensary
with are red eyes and pneumonia- both irritations from walking along
the dirt roads, working in the dusty fields, and living in a cool
climate. Many people try using herbal medicines first for these and
other health problems because they are the less-expensive option.
Visiting the dispensary is a last resort if the herbal medicines fail
to work.
Every evening after work, a filling dinner,
and a group meeting, I brushed my teeth under the African sky, staring at the constellations of the southern hemisphere which I rarely/never
see. We gathered around a fire for hours of story-sharing and laughs, then
retired to our sleeping bags for a much needed sleep.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
1 Daladala + 1 Kuku + 1 semi-Vegetarian = 1 Identity Crisis
I knew from the start that being a
vegetarian in Africa would not go without many explanations of why
and how. My host-family said they many past volunteers that have
housed also were vegetarian, but my mama took no care to hide her
disappointment that I would rather not eat meat, especially chicken
which was her favorite meat to prepare. My sister bragged about how
well her mama prepares chicken and how sad she was I wouldn't try any
of the dishes. After the first week of consuming beans as my main
source of protein, a source that was provided about once every other
day if I was lucky, I decided to transition to a bit more
protein-rich diet of pescetarianism. Fish is readily available at
local restaurants and my family was glad to take a step closer to
their normal diets with having fish once or twice a week. I
continued with this diet for about a month, during which I sat
through several hour-long lectures by my brother who explained the
more natural methods of raising chickens in TZ compared to the US and
their support of local farmers who do not use steroids and only feed
their chickens seeds and grass. One Sunday afternoon, after sitting
through another one of these lectures, I agreed to eating chicken.
Right away my brother told his daughter, who told mama, to which her
face lit up with joy and she went out to buy a chicken to cook for
dinner that same night.
Since my first consumption of the bird,
I have eaten it four other times when I have felt confident the bird
was allowed to roam about and eat things that a bird would naturally
eat. Things changed a bit last night when I visited a friend of the
family and he gave me a chicken as a departure gift. As I waited to
leave his home, he scrounged his place for a box. I thought, “Why
does he need a box? Wouldn't a bag suffice?” After a period of
time he came back with a box from the neighbor. Then he disappeared
into the kitchen and returned with a knife. I was only half-paying
attention and thought he was trying to cut the flaps off of the box.
He disappeared again then returned with hemp string- okay, so he
couldn't cut the flaps off so instead he would tie the box. The logic
didn't make sense but my mind was distracted with the day's events.
My friend disappeared again and when he returned he carried a live
chicken. Wait...WHAT?! I looked closely at the box and realized he
had been cutting air holes in the sides, and the string, as you can
guess, was to keep the lid closed. I couldn't help but laugh and ask
if it was normal to take a live chicken on the daladala. He laughed
only once, slightly confused by my surprise but reassured me it was
no big deal. He then proceeded to hold the chicken down, close the
flaps and tie the box. Before I could think about what was happening
any further, we were out the door and headed towards the road. A
crowded daladala came and I was ushered on and handed the tied box
with the precious chicken sitting inside. Immediately I imagined the
chicken getting disturbed, fluttering in the box, breaking the string
and flying around inside this moving vehicle, causing a commotion
that the locals would forever remember as the crazy mzungu with the
kuku (chicken). I nervously stood with my upper body bent in the
cramped daladala, cautiously eying the people around me, trying to
gauge their reaction when the chaos should erupt. I was surprised
when the daladala reached my station and the string remained securely
tied. But I had only felt the chicken shift once in its box., maybe
it died from stress, I reasoned. The step out of the van made the
box shift a bit again, reassuring me that the bird survived. I
walked to my home and opened the kitchen door where mama was
preparing dinner. She turned, saw the box I was holding and burst
into laughter at the irony of the scene and the events she knew just
happened: Mary rode with a chicken on the daladala, a chicken which
was destined to be dinner. I joined in her laughter, confused at the
events that had happened so quickly. When the laughs finally
subsided she cut the string on the box and used it to tie the bird to
the leg of the counter where it stayed throughout the night. This
morning I watched its slaughter and am anticipating the plucking and
cleaning process to happen later today. Then, the body will go into
my homemade chicken-noodle soup.
I think I have to temporarily remove my
identification as vegetarian.
'Pole,' Ujamaa, and a New Lens
On our first day of Swahili lessons at
the beginning of the summer we learned the use of the term 'Pole'
(pronounced: poh-lay.) It translates in English to mean 'Sorry' but
is used in slightly different situations, most commonly at the end of
the day when someone finishes work. It is appropriate to say 'pole'
to elders, coworkers, friends, and in passing someone on the street.
At first I could not come out from behind my Western lens to
understand this term, instead I found it slightly insulting! Having
just come from a society that values work and individualism I
reasoned that saying 'pole' to someone after a day's work implied
that the job was not satisfying to them. Afterall, isn't is a
Western ideal to value work? Western societies encourage people to
love their work, if not because it is fulfilling but at least because
it is an income source, so why should someone say sorry when working
is good? I could not understand why this was a normal thing to say.
Still, I obliged to saying 'pole' whenever appropriate, despite my
resentment towards it.
Over these weeks I have continued
thinking about this term, trying to understand the culture values
that reinforces it. Today as I walked home from work it finally
clicked. The day has been a long one; after teaching, constructing a
plant nursery, and passing out certificates we were came back to the
office later than usual. Upon return we gathered materials for next
week and met with our supervisor for our weekly reports. Halfway
through our meeting the other volunteers returned from a village they
had worked at all week and we proceeded to exchange greetings and
share stories. After our meeting I stayed longer with the supervisor
to discuss other matters. It was around 5:00pm when I was finished
at the office and well past lunchtime. Dinner would be in four hours
and I debated whether it would be worth picking up something. I
debated this as I walked downtown to check my host-family's post
office box, only to find the post office had closed already.
Mentally and physically fatigued, I thought it best to begin the
thirty minute walk home. Taking a daladala is always an option, but
I find the walk to be refreshing and therapeutic, even when exhausted
There were many people I passed as I
walked my usual path, many faces who probably know mine better than I
do theirs, being one of the few mzungu that pass by everyday. There
was the occasional friendly greeting equivalent to a “Hello” or
“How are you?”and I offered my own greeting in return. My long
strides carried me past several people including one woman who also
appeared to be exhausted from the day's work. She wore a beautiful
red patterned dress, gold earrings and a white scarf over her head,
her face had begun to wrinkle from years spent working. She called
to me the more formal greeting of “Hujambo?” to which I replied
“Sijambo.” Instead of ending with this as most greetings do, she
continued with “Pole, Mama!” (Mama is named to anyone who appears
older than 18). I blushed in embarrassment at first thinking that my
exhaustion was so visible for another to see it and offer sympathy.
Then I realized that saying 'pole' to another is not the same as
offering a consolation for having to work. It is another behavior
that reflects the ideal of Ujamaa, or familyhood, that the first
President Nyerere instilled in Tanzanian society. In TZ, saying
'pole' to someone creates a bond of compassion that connects the two
as family members. For Western societies saying sorry (and really
meaning it) is usually reserved for close friends and one's
biological family, and would rarely be offered as a sincere greeting
for a stranger.
Perhaps it was my fatigue that was
affecting my perspective, but something about the way she said this
made everything click and I could have hugged her for saying 'Pole'
to me. With the Western lens removed and a new perspective of
'pole,' I gained a much clearer view of Tanzanian culture and the
influence of Ujamaa. This mama knew nothing about my day, where I
came from, or why I am here, but she still offered the expression of
compassion that unites Tanzanians in a familyhood.
In reply I said the customary thanks
and returned the compassion with “pole na wewe” (sorry and to
you). She smiled, said thank-you, and my stride continued to carry
me away from her. Just like that, we lived out the Ujamaa philosophy
that continues to thrive in Tanzanians, almost forty years since
Nyerere's presidency.
Garden Today, Dinner Tomorrow
This past week I put to use everything
my parents have ever taught me about farming and gardening. I taught
bio-intensive agriculture at a vocational school to students ages
18-20. The school has different areas of study for students to
select as their focus such as sewing, hotel and restaurant management
and cooking. The school sat in a gated area as common for most
buildings Arusha. Within the gates are four buildings for
classrooms, bathrooms, a teacher's lounge, and office. A large
garden lay behind the buildings where each class was responsible for
planting and maintaining its own plots. All of the crops are grown
for the school to use either in the cooking classes or for the
occasional lunch that is served. Since it is a vocational school
students attend either a morning session until 2pm or the afternoon
session, beginning at 3pm. Therefore the garden was filled with
plants the school uses most often: onions, corn, zucchini, lettuce,
and other vegetables native to Tanzania. Overall the garden looked
to be thriving, but it was in need of some upkeep; the sides of the
plots had fallen and weeds were beginning to grow up in between the
vegetables. The headmistress explained later that the students are
usually too tired to have energy to spend more time in the garden.
Some, she said, have only the bread and chai during the 11am break
which serves as both their breakfast and lunch. Then, after class,
they must return home for chores and other responsibilities so they
do not have the time and energy to care for both the garden and their
home duties. I was thrilled to be there to introduce new gardening
methods that would help them save time in the long-run and improve
both the quality and quantity of their corp yields.
The lesson plan for teaching
bio-intensive agriculture (BIA) goes as follows:
- All about BIA: definition, features, and benefits
- Composting
- Double-dug beds
- Companion planting
- Crop rotation
- Plant nurseries
- Pest management and natural solutions
- Garden record keeping and maintenance
While these basic concepts are not new
to me (mostly thanks to dad and mom), the Tanzanian methods of
achieving these were a learning process. For example, using banana
leaves as the shade cover in the nursery is not an option in the
states (unfortunately for us). The students had many good questions,
especially about using natural solutions instead of chemicals on
plants. I was able to answer these only with the help of a certain
wizened and well-learned GSC staff member who had spent years working
with agriculture. We spent half of the time in the classroom, going
over the theory of BIA and the methods that make it possible, and the
other half we spent working in the garden building a compost bed, a
key-hole garden -which I helped build last week in the village, so
I'm on my way to being an expert at it (ha...be careful of my
deceiving sarcasm)- two double-dug beds, and two nurseries. I think
the construction of these new structures will improve the quality of
the garden and hopefully motivate the students to take just a little
time everyday to maintain it. Or students can use these methods
later in life when they must provide for their own family. One of
the many great things about BIA is that there is a gardening method
for any amount of land a person has; whether an entire field to grow
many plots of vegetable or just a small patch of grass to keep a sac
garden. So no matter where the students go after they finish their
studies they will have the knowledge and the skills to produce food
for themselves.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Teaching the Maasai Part 2
During this past week I worked in
Naitolia, a Maasai village about an hour and a half West of Arsuha.
We arrived Monday afternoon and met with some villagers at the
village office, however there was a bit of miscommunication about
time and the people had been waiting since the late morning for us.
They were not able to stay longer for a lesson that day so we made
plans to begin on Tuesday. Some asked if we would be providing
drinks, snacks or other gifts for them during the training. Later I
learned that some organizations even pay individuals to attend
trainings as incentives for people to come. We explained that the
gift is the education itself and if individuals wanted to improve
their lives so that they and their families can be healthier and
happier, then they should come. I was impressed the next day when
close to twenty people (both men and women) showed up for the
training.
Meanwhile myself and another volunteer
went to the village secondary school to teach students. Our first
day was also on Tuesday and the time frame was shortened so we did
not get through as much as we hoped. Thursday, after our lesson, we
were told that the students needed to prepare for national exams on
Friday and there would not be time for us to finish teaching. We
left frustrated knowing that the students would miss lessons on
nutrition, hygiene and life skills. For thirteen and fourteen
year-olds teaching life skills is an especially important component
of teaching HIV/AIDS prevention. Life skills include discussing the
different communication styles- passive, aggressive and assertive-
and the students then practice delivering a message or reply
assertively. We also teach decision making skills where the students
are given scenarios in which they must go through four steps of the
decision-making process to decide what choice has the most positive
consequences for them. One of the scenarios we give them is a
situation where a young girl becomes orphaned and must take care of
her two younger siblings. Students are asked what they think the
girl should do when an older man offers her money for sex, putting
her at risk of HIV but providing money for which she can buy food.
It is a difficult scenario that I found myself struggling with the
first time I taught it this summer. Lessons like this are important
to teach in a classroom setting to get the students thinking about
real-life situations where there is a chance of engaging in behaviors
that put them at increased risk of becoming infected with HIV.
Leaving the class without teaching these lessons was hard. I hold on
to the hope that they will finish reading the books we gave them at
the beginning of training and learn about these lessons in life
skills, as well as the hygiene and nutrition lessons they missed out
on, and not use the pages as fuel for their next meal's fire. The
irony of the situation adds humor to the frustration.
While the afternoons in Naitolia were a
true test of flexibility and patience, the mornings proved to be very
active and encouraging! Working with the Sustainable Agriculture
staff, we visited the home of a Maasai farmer who had been trained in
Bio-Intensive Ag earlier in the year. We arrived at his house,
entering through the typical fence of large African plants, and were
welcomed by him, his wife, three children and a garden filled with
green plants of all different species: corn, beans, kale, cabbage,
spinach, potatoes, and many others whose names I don't know. Three
huts sat in the lot, one for the kitchen, another for sleeping, and a
small bathroom behind the garden, away from the others. The man had
built a hafir with GSC earlier this year, and it sat behind the
sleeping room. The hafir was working effectively to collect water
for the family to use for cooking, drinking, watering the garden and
for the herd of goats fenced inside a second wooden fence about
thirty feet from the kitchen and ten feet from the sleeping room. We
visited this family every day of the week and helped them with
additional ag projects. First we built a keyhole garden which
utilizes compost and leftover water from the kitchen to nourish
vegetables and fruits to feed the family. First we laid the
foundation of stones and mud in a circle, two meters in diameter. The
next day we layered soil, compost and manure to fill it to a heaping
mound inserting tree branches vertically in the center to serve as an
opening for the compost and water. After topping the soil with long
grass, we let it sit overnight before planting the vegetables. The
garden gets its name from the one-foot insert built on one side of
the circle to allow the mama to walk close to the middle where she
can dump compost and water. The climate in this part of Tanzania is
extremely dry; it rains for just two months out of the year and only
plants that have adapted to this climate typically grow under these
arid conditions. The keyhole garden serves as a practical way to use
kitchen waste while promoting the growth of fruits and vegetables
that are otherwise limited. Additionally the lush green leaves that
will grow from it is aesthetically pleasing for the family. This
family has made an exemplary commitment to what they have learned in
sustainable farming, and the healthy six month old baby that sat
happily in her mother's arms is proof that dedication and commitment
to these projects can work.
Unfortunately not all families are able
to attend the trainings to learn these initiatives. Like the
villagers expressed on our first day: they need an incentive to come
to the trainings. After all, a two hour session soon turns into six
for some who must walk for two hours to the village office. This
time away from home may mean leaving children alone, delaying the
planting or harvesting of crops, or neglecting care of the animals.
In a culture where waking up the next day is not always a given,
planning for the future and understanding the long-term benefits of
being trained in agriculture or HIV prevention is more challenging
and not as obvious as it may be for others. Despite the difference,
the villagers are doing their best to provide for their families to
keep them happy and healthy and carry on the rich Maasai traditions.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Knowledge is Power: Stay Health
We gathered at Poli for the
last time on Saturday to celebrate the students' hard work with a graduation ceremony. Typical to African time, we waited for two hours until
the ceremony began. To pass the time I took over thirty
pictures with my students (I have limited myself to posting only ten
to my flickr stream). When all parties arrived, including the DJ
with his gigantic speakers, the ceremony began and students, parents,
teachers and volunteers filled up the chairs outside just as the rain
clouds moved away to uncover the sun which left me another reminder
of just how close to the equator I am, even with it being the winter
months. A boy beat a bucket-drum to set the pace for a group of
Scouts who marched in line to the flagpole in middle of the school
grounds where we were gathered. With direction from the scouts, the
students sang the national anthem as a head boy raised the flag.
Next came the anthem for Poli, sung loud and strong by the students
so that the catchy chorus will remain imprinted in my memory to
forever remind me of these past days at Poli. Then the scouts
marched away and a group of girls danced onto the center area in
synchronized movement. After two dances they left to be followed by
two boys who impressed the crowd with their individual dancing
talents. They danced until someone in the crowd slipped a few
shillings in each of their pockets, appropriate for both humor and
real appreciation of their entertainment. Next a smaller group of
girls danced to the middle to sing and move to a head-swaying,
hand-clapping, hip-shaking song dedicated to “Our Besti Teachers.”
When they were finished and the claps and hoots from the audience
ceased, another large group of girls entered in step, clapping and
singing to a familiar hip hop song. Following the dance routines were
three skits with scenarios presenting what the students had learned
during camp.
Entertainment over, it was time for the
guest speakers to take the floor to explain the mission of GSC,
introduce the volunteers and TZ counterparts, and thank the teachers
of Poli for allowing us to come. Next a special speaker shared his
words of encouragement with the students to put what they have
learned to practice and further expand on the way forward with the
simple phrase: “Knowledge is Power” to which students reply with
one of the many comical errors of Swahili-speakers speaking English,
“Stay Health.” After the speech we handed out certificates to
our students to congratulate them for their hard work. This ended
the formal ceremony and we proceeded to the meal: rice, cabbage, meat
in sauce, kachumbari (a mixture of cucumbers, tomatoes, and onions),
banana, and soda drinks. The food was delicious as always and the
ceremony was enjoyable, but the best part of the day was after lunch
when the students, volunteers and counterparts released their bodies
to the music that had stayed present throughout the day, only pausing
for speakers. For more than two hours hips swayed, bellies rolled,
and feet stepped to the hip-hop and reggae that pumped into the air a
spirit of absolute freedom. Older and younger siblings joined to
fill the courtyard with dancing bodies. I imagined the students
danced until the DJ refused to play another song, but I left before
this instance occurred.
The teachers made sure to thank us
before leaving and shared the enthusiasm of the students for us being
there- not just to teach but to serve as role models to relay a very
important message: Knowledge is Power: Stay Health.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)