Tanzania!

Time in America

I guess I didn’t talk much about my time in America and the trip over, so I’ll make a few brief comments. I can’t explain, but right away when I got onto the dinky airplane heading to Omaha, NE, I felt like I was already home. I could just tell a big difference in the people, I was with Nebraska folk. People were friendly and had a good sense of humor. Meeting my family at the airport was exciting and unbelievable that I was finally home, after one year. A bit creepy hugging Joel and seeing that his head hit above my shoulder. Mom was all worried I’d experience culture shock with adjusting back to the US during my short stay, but it really wasn’t all that bad. I did forget about a few nice luxuries though, such as a hot shower whenever I needed one…not only did unlimited water come out from the shower head, but the water was warm without me having to start a fire and heat it up. Fixing my hair was also something I forgot about…hair dryer and hair straightener! I didn’t even think about how weird it’d be to use these appliances after one year without. Opening up cupboards to see the endless choices of processed American foods was a thrill. The bed I slept on was possibly the most comfortable thing ever…it wasn’t foam like the one I have here in TZ….now I know I’m adjusted back to TZ b/c I now believe my foam bed is wonderful, at least compared to a rope bed or stuffed gunny sack. It was good to be with Dad and to see all extended family who came to visit him in the burn unit in Lincoln. Even in dad’s condition, he still was looking out for me…he tried, unsuccessfully, to hook me up with one of the burn techs who was taking care of him. I finally got to meet Cory’s girlfriend, Jess. I was relieved that she was as cool as the rest of the family described her. Kinda ridiculous, but I was super excited to see Teddy (dog) and the cats. Meeting with college friends and going to Abby’s wedding was all a lot of fun. It’s crazy how all my girl cousins are married now and one just had a new baby. Probably one of the more difficult adjustments is to realize that time didn’t stop and people didn’t stay the same as when I left America. As dumb as it sounds, it’s kinda hard to see that life can go on without you. Time went so fast in America, which I knew it would. However, leaving wasn’t as difficult as I worried it might have been. I remember Cory jokingly saying “Go back where you came from” and that’s exactly how I felt, going back to my other home across the world. Just one more year and I’ll be back in the USA for good.

July 14, 2010

During my mid-service conference, it seemed to me that we (pcvs) have all gained a more realistic view of our role in Peace Corps…which I’m still a bit unsure yet what I can do to best help my village. I know Peace Corps programs each differ with the different countries it serves in. However, I feel like goal number one (teach skills to young men and women so that they have the tools to help develop and stabilize their country) is not as effective as what pcvs come in thinking it will be, or at least in my case I don't believe I’ve met goal 1. I just don’t feel confident teaching farmers who have been working with the land longer than I’ve been alive, and telling them what to do…and I have no experience to back up what I teach. The majority of PCVs are recent college graduates, so there’s not a whole lot of experience or expertise to be shared. The other 2 goals are about sharing America’s culture with the other country and sharing the other country’s culture with Americans. These last two goals are actually why I wanted to join PC, to be able to learn about and experience another culture. I’ve found that following these two goals has led to an enjoyable and effective first year of service. However, Peace Corps knows it needs a better reason than just making friends in another country in order to get tax payers’ dollars. It definitely is important to keep peace and harmony between the US and other countries. These good relations also open up other countries’ trade and resources. There are probably more selfish reasons why America so strongly supports service outside of the US. America seems to benefit the most from sending out volunteers; more than the countries we’re working in. The same goes for PC volunteers; we seem to gain the most from our service compared to the villagers we work with. We learn so much about ourselves, hardships, and we experience life in another country. Another volunteer in my group made a comment about the effectiveness of PC and what keeps volunteers happy…and sane. The most satisfied volunteers are those that really integrate into their village and focus on goals 2 and 3. We’re all about change for the better. However, so many of us do not realize what changes TZ needs until much later on in service, if even then. Maybe Leonardo De Caprio was right in Blood Diamond, that Peace Corps volunteers just stay long enough to realize they can’t do anything to fix the problem. I’m not saying Peace Corps is pointless, but I’ve just come to look at Peace Corps’ purpose a little differently. And maybe TZ doesn’t need to change and develop as much as we think it should. We as a developed nation have a thing or two to learn from 3rd world countries such as TZ. I thought this was interesting; I came across this in my daily inspirational reading.

“Contrary to popular belief, material riches do not guarantee happiness. Beaming smiles often radiate from faces in third-world countries while depression soars in the lands of plenty. Many times prosperity breeds discontentment and dissatisfaction. Greed is an insatiable appetite that destroys lives. Earthly possessions leave us empty because our hearts are fickle. Once we gain possession of one thing our hearts yearn for something else.” Whispers of Wisdom for Young Women (2008)

Yes poverty is definitely a problem, and a lot of bad things stem from it: poor education systems, silence on women’s rights, young girls’ pregnancies, rape, prostitution, unsanitary conditions, health care inadequacy, day to day survival, food and water insecurity, etc.

However, America also has its own set of issues: school shootings, eating disorders, obesity, workaholics, disconnection from older generation, lack of time spent with family, obsession with appearances and staying young, materialism and the amount of waste many of our unnecessary products create, lack of appreciation or knowledge of where our things come from and how they are made. These are just a few problems that Tanzania does not have…yet.

The first year I was always so concerned about fitting in and being liked. It was hard for me to be what TZs liked to see in a volunteer because I didn’t feel comfortable showing characteristics such as being an overly confident and outspoken individual. Overall, most Tanzanians notice a person for how much Swahili they can communicate, and they are entertained with the more sassy and outgoing volunteers. I kind of feel like a plain Jane sometimes compared to my peers. Another comment a PCV in my group told me was that no matter what, she would never be as happy or content with her work in Tanzania compared to her work in America. And she had come to terms with this, that she’ll never be as happy in TZ or fit in like she did in the states and that was okay. Peace Corps is meant to be challenging; that’s part of what the whole experience is about.

My last comment about the different conversations I had with other PCVs: During Morogoro training I realized how discontent and unhappy some volunteers were with their sites. I guess I shouldn’t take it for granted that I actually like my village and I enjoy being with my villagers learning something new each day.

July 15, 2010

POLE KWA SAFARI (Apologies for travel)

There’s a reason why Tanzanians apologize whenever one goes on a journey. Traveling in TZ is exhausting! This is how my trip went from Dar to my site…a 12 hour bus ride.

I woke up at 4:45 am, in a Dar guest house (YWCA), so that I could catch my 5 am taxi. I managed to get my two 50+lbs of luggage (brought back from America) down the several flights of stairs by myself. I then looked outside to find that the cab driver whom I talked to the day before had lied about being able to pick me up. The number he gave me was not reachable. I then proceeded to walk out to the road in hopes of finding a taxi. I knew that I’d be paying an absurd amount for a taxi then because it was obvious I was in a desperate situation (my bus tickets were bought the day before, and the bus does not wait on anyone). Luckily another woman staying at the same guest house had a ride scheduled to pick her up at 5am as well, and so I was able to get to the bus stand on time. Ubongo bus stand is possibly my least favorite place in TZ. I dread it because of the relentless nagging of cab drivers, luggage carriers, and ticket sellers. It’s normal for a man to grab my hand and take my luggage without permission. Buying tickets is also a stressful ordeal. I never know if the ticket I bought is genuine, or if the bus I booked is reliable. Every time I go to the ticket stand, a cluster of ticket sellers immediately finds me and asks where I’m going. One time I started following two men who said they’d show me to the ticket booth of the bus going to my destination, however before I got too far another man came over and told me that those men were trying to trick and take advantage of me. Once I got the ticket, the next step was to find the bus I needed to board. Finding a bus at 5 am is always a bit tricky because it’s still dark out. Once I found the bus, I crossed my fingers hoping I didn’t get tricked into buying a ticket for some non-existing bus. When my ticket and name was checked off the bus conductor’s list, it was time to put my luggage under the bus. Anytime I have luggage that needs to be stored below or above the bus, it’s a stressful ordeal. First I have to barter to get a realistic price to store my luggage. Then I have to sit on the bus for hours on the way to my destination just hoping my luggage has not been stolen or fallen off. I’ve actually witnessed my luggage falling out from underneath the bus. Theft is also common but so far it hasn’t happened to me. One valuable lesson I’ve learned during my service here is to not get too attached to material things. Possessions are so easily broken, stolen, or lost that it’s not even worth wasting time worrying about it.

Another stressor with TZ buses is that they never leave the time the ticket or bus staff says it will. Sometimes I arrive at 5am just to wait until 7am when the bus finally leaves the stand. Other times the buses actually leave before the scheduled time, but this has never happened to me yet.

Mahuta Express (Mahuta means oil in Makonde tribal language) goes through my village, so I usually take this bus line. However, Mahuta is definitely one of the worst buses out in Tanzania. It’s a known fact that the south has poorer quality buses than the rest of Tanzania because the south is the poorest area with less paved roads and fewer people willing to spend more money for nicer buses. I knew right as we pulled out of the bus stand that this ride on Mahuta Express was going to be a long, bumpy one. We were still on Dar’s paved streets yet I could feel each bump that we went over. I had to put my seat belt on right away in order to keep from flying off my seat. Unfortunately I got a seat in the back. Back seat passengers tend to get more height in their vertical with each pot hole. So I spent 12 hours gripping onto the seat in front of me and bouncing along in my seat. The only thing I can think to compare this ride to is maybe if you sit on a washing machine with something large and awkward in it…like tennis shoes banging around.

A few short stops were made on the way down south, since it’s such a long journey. The first break was chai break at 10 am and then we had a short lunch stop at 1pm. For lunch the bus always stops by a town full of rickety wooden booths selling chai (tea) and fried fish. However, this time our bus driver was in a hurry because he hoped to get ahead of the numerous buses stopped there that were also heading south. So we all stayed seated on the bus and bought our fish from outside the bus windows. I used to be disgusted seeing whole fried fish with scales, eyeballs, fins and all. However, after tasting one, I realized the taste of fried fresh fish surpasses the looks of it.

Very few stops are taken for bathroom breaks. Those with children either wrap their kids’ bottoms with plastic bags and rags or they bring an empty water bottle in case the kid needs to relieve himself. The bus conductor announces bathroom breaks by saying we have so many minutes to “chimba dawa” (dig for medicine). The bus then parks on the side of the road next to some tall yet easily accessible brush, if we’re lucky. Usually one side for men and one side of the road for women is quickly determined. Men don’t bother peeing discreetly; they just go right next to the bus. Women try to hide themselves in the bush, but there’s no privacy among the women. During chai break, I went with some other ladies searching for some tall grass to relieve myself in. The women were so amused that I could “dig for medicine” anywhere, just as they do.

There is a long stretch of road that is considerably worse than the rest of the journey. On a good day, it takes about 2 hours to get through it. This road has been under construction for years and there’s still plenty of work left to be done. There are usually several construction machines at work, but a lot of the labor is done by hand. I’ve only seen men work on this road; it definitely wouldn’t be an appropriate place for women to work…in the middle of nowhere. I cringe to think of the effect these construction workers have on the HIV transmission rate within the nearby villages. Anytime a highway is built, HIV rates generally increase because of the number of truck drivers, construction workers, and other traveling men that pass through looking for female companionship whereever their work takes them. It’s common for a man to have different families with several women, one family at each work site.

So anyway, this dirt road is pretty awful. Every Tanzanian dreads when the pavement comes to an end and we begin the long bumpy ride. I often think of how this road is similar to going over a bumpy cornfield, but with more swerves and close misses with other buses and trucks. The dust produced by all these vehicles is almost suffocating. Most people cover their hair, clothes, and nose and mouth when traveling through. There is no AC on the bus, so people have no choice but to open their windows. It’s often very hot and sticky because this road is close to the coast and the bus goes at a slower pace with all the bumps, so there’s less air circulating. I counted 95 seats in the bus, all occupied. However, it’s common for additional people to sit/stand in the middle aisle. And of course, there are chickens tied underneath some of the seats.

During the rainy season, many buses get stuck and people stay on the road for days. I had to be flown to get to a PC training because the muddy roads were packed with stuck traffic. I’ve only gotten stuck once on this road when the bus got too close to the shoulder; luckily a cement truck pulled us out immediately.

Once the dirt road ends you can see and hear people breathe a sigh of relief and finally relax.

Then it’s pavement for the rest of the journey except for the last 3.5 hour stretch up to my village. This road is completely out in the bush and it climbs up the steep slopes of the Makonde plateau. Sometimes the bus goes so slow, I wonder if it will stall and we’ll start rolling backwards. Going down is also a bit scary, especially with the condition most TZ buses are in. I’ve actually gotten out one time when I was riding a smaller bus, so that the bus could make it down the hill. It was a pretty funny sight seeing all the passengers, even elderly, cut through trails to meet the bus at the bottom of the winding, steep road. This same bus to Mtwara is what I often take and stand up in for five hours holding onto an overhead bar. The smaller buses are called daladalas, and are packed completely full of people…meaning no room to spare even with people standing.

As hellish as I’ve made this all sound, I actually still enjoy bus rides. I turn on my itunes and look outside at all the small villages we pass by. Bus rides allow me to see things from a bigger perspective and give me some thinking time to sort out struggles and memories. I always get quite a bit of attention being the only white person on the bus. People are shocked I know Swahili and then I get asked the same sort of questions “Do you have roads like this in America” and “Are you married”? The Mahuta bus driver and conductor were actually the first to ask me this marital status question…very professional. They kept pestering me even when I told them I was already married and I wasn’t interested in male visitors. A lot of times these guys are just joking because they have nothing better to do with their time. These two guys also recognized me as the teacher in Namiyonga. It’s nice not to be spotted as a tourist, but rather a resident. Actually, right before we left the bus stand in Dar I had to introduce myself and speak a little Makonde with all the bus passengers watching. Everyone was so curious why one lone white girl was going to the deep dirty south.

I found myself getting extremely anxious once we got close to my village. I was a bit worried about how I would get my luggage to my house. But I also wondered if my luggage was still all there or if the contents were scattered underneath the bus b/c of the bumpy ride. I was also anxious about how Namioyonga villagers would accept me and if I’d have anyone waiting for me at the bus stand.

Well I sure didn’t need to worry about the welcoming back part. The moment I got off the bus, a little girl shrieked “Kristina”! Then a swarm of kids gathered around me. Baba Ester pushed through the crowd of village children and greeted me excitedly. He was obviously very happy to have me back, and also a bit intoxicated, as usual. A couple of the men put my luggage bags on their bikes and the kids carried several other bags and small items. I felt like I was leading a parade. I greeted all the neighbors I passed. One lady started singing “Karibu tena Kristina” (Welcome back Kristina) and I shook all the women’s hands. The moment we reached my house I put my luggage inside and checked to make sure everything made it. What a miracle! I have no idea how I managed to retain everything from such a long journey. Baba called Mama Ester to come, and meanwhile I tried to get the 50+ kids on my porch to go home. The kids here are kind of like the flies here; you swat at them and they move, but they come back immediately. Mama Ester then came and gave me a hug and an air kiss above both shoulders. I could tell mama was ashamed of Baba’s drunken stupor, so she was pretty eager to get back to their house. Before they left mama told me not to worry about supper, they’d bring it over later so I could relax.

The boys who stayed overnight at my house while I was in America were the last ones to leave. I could tell they settled into my house pretty well. They acted as if it was their second home. Staying at my house must have been a big step up from the boys’ mud homes, and it was probably exciting for them having my place all to themselves. Before I told the boys to pack up and leave, I had them help me light the kerosene lamp. This actually took me awhile because I had lost my routine of dealing with no electricity. After helping me haul my water into my courtyard, the boys packed up and left for their nearby homes. Finally I was alone. I thought about the first night I had arrived in Namiyonga and how different this night was. The two biggest factors which had changed for me were 1) the people in the village know me and call me by my name, not “mzungu” (white foreigner) and 2)my house is now furnished and painted. More of a homey feeling to it now compared to when I first arrived to find only a wooden bed frame and dresser and grey concrete walls. Of course whenever I leave for an extended period of time, I worry about the creatures and insects that might have taken up residence while I was gone. That night I killed the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in my life, right behind my jiko stove. I had to bust out screaming my warrior cry while killing the 8 legged monster in order to have enough courage to get that close to it.

I put on water for chai and for my bucket bath while waiting for Mama Ester and Ester to come by with supper and evening chat. Soon enough there was a “hodi” at my door, and Issa was with them. I’m sure they were relieved to get rid of Issa. Although Issa killed a number of rats in their house each night, he also managed to kill 8 of their young chickens. I was surprised Issa was still alive since most villagers would not have the patience or resources to keep a chicken- killing cat. Mama left me with a hot pot of an enormous heap of rice (enough for at least 3 people) and cooked dried fish. Mama said everybody was saying I had lost weight in America (apparently everyone analyzed me the moment I got off the bus) and it was mama’s goal to fatten me up with ugali and rice…my starch diet. Then I would become “healthy” again. A lot of villagers asked me if people in America were shocked at how fat I had gotten. I think they were quite disappointed when I told them no, because they want to know for sure that my American family and friends saw that I have grown fat here because life is good and there’s plenty of food. Oh well, if I did actually lose weight, I’m sure I’ll be gaining that ugali weight back soon enough.

Issa is still the same cat. I was worried he’d change b/c of living in another home. However, he still likes to curl up in my lap and snuggle. Ah, it’s actually good to be back in Namiyonga. And it’s nice that this place finally feels like home now.

July 18, 2010

Today was an exhausting day. I went to church with Ester and Grey; it took us about 20 minutes to walk there, and when we arrived we found out there was no service. There was a funeral going on in the neighboring town, so the minister was gone for that. Once we got back to Ester’s house, mama fed us sugary chai and leftover rice and cow peas from last night. I then went back to my house to get things cleaned and organized. Later a bunch of kids came over, so I decided to bust out the kites for the first time. They absolutely loved the kites. I also introduced pick-up sticks and Twister. My courtyard, front porch and yard were packed full of kids playing, watching, or asking for a ball or game. I asked several of the girls to help with house chores such as washing dishes, sweeping the courtyard, and making Issa uji (corn porridge).

The whole “zawadi” thing (gifts) has been quite exhausting. I spent all yesterday just greeting people and giving away candy, a few stuffed animals, pencils/pens, bags, etc, depending on the family and individual. It soon got chaotic handing out gifts to the kids. They pushed and shoved in order to get a hold of a pencil, and I still have kids coming to my house begging for a pen or pencil. Ha, I can remember getting pencils every year for Halloween and not appreciating it as much as candy. I didn’t realize at that time that a pencil really was a “treat”. The kids hardly have anything here. Most can’t afford shoes, even flip flops. Many carry torn plastic bags as their book bags, which hold their precious notebook and pen that their families have to pay for.

I gave Mama Ester one of mom’s dresses, and it fit her perfectly. I gave Baba Ester reading glasses, and the whole family was excited that he could finally read fine print again. Ester got one of the dolls. I keep a stuffed Antelope from my college days on my coffee table in my house. I’ve had several kids actually start crying when they first saw it b/c it looked so real and unusual to them. Even older kids were kinda spooked by my stuffed animal.

Apparently my cat Issa hooked up with a stray female cat. Mama Ester happened to catch a small kitten that looks like a miniature Issa. We’re pretty sure Issa is now a baba.

Something I’ve noticed that’s changed about my perspective of being in the village; I no longer care so much about perfecting my Swahili and tribal language. I know enough to get by and get work done and I know that after one more year, Swahili will have no use for me anymore. I’ve also noticed that I’ve become much more relaxed with how I spend my time, especially when working on getting my own things done in the house. I used to worry so much about spending enough time out in the village, getting to know people and making contacts. I feel like I now know enough people to have contacts to work with and most importantly, I feel like Namiyonga is home. I’ve also realized I’ve grown accustomed to making kids do my errands and housework for me. I used to feel kinda odd about sending a kid to the market to buy a kilo of sugar, or hoe the weeds in my sweet potatoes. I used to get overwhelmed with so many kids around (I’m living on primary school grounds) but now I see it as great potential to have assistance getting work around my house done.

Overall, I’ve noticed after coming back to Namiyonga that I’ve become more relaxed and care free. A lot of it has to do with being half way done, and also the 3 week break I had in America. My trip back to America reminded me that family is the most important part of my life, not how many successful projects I can get going in my community, or the close contacts I make with my villagers. The various stresses I’m dealing with now in Namiyonga aren’t going to be with me forever, and my family will still love me and have confidence in me no matter what hardships and struggles I go through doing my PC service. I think dad’s accident helped magnify that life is precious and the little petty problems that we often focus too much on don’t even matter down the road. Airplane rides always do wonders putting things into perspective. Being so high up and looking down to see several continents all in a day makes one think a little differently about life in this world. I think I realized then on the plane that I shouldn’t take everything so seriously in Tanzania; that my time is short here and I’ll be done before I know it.

I’ve actually been told by several PCVs in my group that I’m one of the most stable people in our group. I was a bit surprised to hear this, for I definitely haven’t felt so stable. However, I realized I have developed certain mechanisms to help reduce shock and slowly deal with things. From the very beginning of arriving in TZ, I’ve been wearing blinders around my eyes so that I could take things in slowly and not get too overwhelmed with everything. I forced myself not to overanalyze things, or even think about something until it happens. I actually learned this trick of not thinking ahead and psyching myself out because of dreaded junior high and high school track meets, and how I couldn’t think about the race b/c I’d get too nervous. So I didn’t think about the race until I was running it. Now after a year of living in TZ, I feel like I can finally take those blinders completely off and be able to analyze my surroundings more thoroughly without feeling too overwhelmed.

July 19, 2010

Mama Ester was a bit upset with me yesterday because I didn’t show up for supper. I didn’t think she was expecting me because Ester brought over cow peas earlier that day with strict instructions to teach me how to cook “mbaazi”. I decided to make split pea soup which was just mind boggling for Tanzanians to see a different way to cook something. For everything, especially with cooking, there’s only one right way to do things…even when it comes to cutting onions. So I didn’t go to Ester’s for supper and I guess Mama specifically made extra “pweza” (half dried/fresh squid tentacles). I’ve been eating there a lot lately, for chai time and supper. Maybe I won’t get another house girl (I had a house girl for awhile but she got married during the time I was in America) and instead eat at Ester’s in order to save time from cooking.

Mama asked the other day if I could buy her a cell phone. Sometimes I wondered what Esters’ family intentions where when they first started inviting me to be a part of their family. However, here that’s what families do, they help each other out, including financially.

Mama has mentioned numerous times that I’ve lost weight and she was a bit disappointed when I said no one in America said I looked fat (b/c in America you get slapped for that). Today my neighbor, Mwalimu (teacher) Hittu looked at some of my photos and said I looked so fat and fit in the pictures before I left for America and I shouldn’t go back to America b/c I have better health in Tanzania. Apparently they did mean it as a compliment when they kept telling me I was getting fat, or bouncer as Hittu calls it. Mama even said she wants me to get healthy again…aka fat. She’s already working on it. Tomorrow I’ll be eating ground nuts at her place for breakfast.

There was an outdoor movie showing in my village tonight. The video was about protecting oneself from malaria by using mosquito nets properly. Numerous people gave their testimonies in the video, one being a mother of 4 children, all but one died of malaria. There were a lot of songs and silly skits within the video. Tanzanians seem to enjoy really exaggerated, obnoxious humor. Anyway, this night was so different from the rest. First of all, I never walk around at night. Secondly, there was a huge screen and stereo system set up, like an outdoor theatre and the whole town was standing in the market square in front of this enormous screen. It’s just funny to see the sharp contrast of traditional village life (women in khangas and kids running half naked and barefoot) mixed with modern, expensive equipment.

July 20, 2010

Today the kids spent the whole day carefully laying rocks/pieces of brick around the school yard. Then they busied themselves with painting limestone over each rock to create white markers on both sides of the paths leading to the school house. Yesterday the kids were busy cutting grass and low limbs of the mango tree using their machetes. They also spent a lot of time thickening the walls of the school choos with more palm leaves. The big hustle and bustle in my village is all in preparation for the Freedom Torch which is coming thru Namiyonga on Thursday this week. Apparently it’s a big deal…the teachers and I all have matching track suits…and the women here never wear pants!

-Today I showed Ester’s family pictures from my 3 weeks in America. When I showed a picture of dad in the hospital, Ester got up and sat behind the kitchen shed. I found out later she had been crying because it upset her so much to see dad in so much pain.

- The temps dropped down to 60 F last night and I was freezing! During the day it’s lower to mid 80’s. Perfect weather during the day.

- I taught English to Form 2 (comparable to high school freshmen) students after school. I enjoy teaching English a lot. It’s one thing I feel qualified to teach. I’ve been tutoring English to a Form 1 boy, Shariufu (the 14 yr old boy who guarded my house when I was gone). He’s very bright and tries hard in school. After Secondary School he wants to study in Tanga to become a Muslim teacher.

- Water is already becoming scarce in my village. People use the tiniest amount of water when bathing; most just splash water on their limbs and face. My storage well (about 20ft deep and 8 feet wide) is a little more than half full. I’m using water I collected during the rainy season (Dec-April) and the water is still okay. I boil and filter the water I drink, so I can’t tell much of a difference with old, standing water. The water I have now needs to last me until December when it starts raining again. The lack of rain has completely changed the appearance of Namiyonga village. Now a light brown color has replaced most of the vibrant bright shades of green grass, crops, and trees. I’m already missing the vegetables such as tomatoes, spinach, and other leafy greens. I’m lucky though that I’m in an area with a lot of fruit. Right now I’m eating about 7 oranges and tangerines a day. Kids and my neighbors bring me over a bunch, and I pay less than 10 cents to get 6-8 oranges. I also eat a lot of bananas because they produce all year long.

- Here is a random short list of things I advise other volunteers/travelers that are going to live in a third world country: headlamp flashlight, quick dry towels, music (including Christmas music) on ipod/mp3 and speakers (preferably without using batteries), AA and AAA batteries, shortwave radio, vegetable peeler, a few good kitchen knives, American card games, pictures from home you can use to describe yourself and life in America, Nalgene bottle, Emergency C packets, hygiene products such as shampoo, facewash, baby wipes (always good for bus trips when there’s no water to wash hands), and deodorant even though no one else wears it.

July 23, 2010

I taught at Mkuchika Secondary School today. Every Wednesday I and one of the teachers, Mr. Mkambala, teach a selected group of students about health, peer pressure, and HIV and AIDS. The goal is to teach this group of students so that they can go around to surrounding schools to teach and perform skits/role plays.

Today I had the kids map out their villages and specify where people were most susceptible to contacting HIV. These main target areas were the bar, late night cinema (villagers use a generator to show videos), and houses that sell homemade alcohol. I also had students point out where orphans and widows were living. Just recently, Namiyonga’s VEO (Village Executive Officer) died and left behind 4 wives and their children. For 40 days they’ll be in mourning for him (the wives only wear black now) and then the women will most likely go live in separate places. Some might get married again, but they wouldn’t all marry one man. Not only is this death hard for the family, but it’s literally breaking up the family. It’s so different here with polygamy. When a man dies, he leaves several wives and lots of children behind that were all dependent on him.

As I was eating at Mama Ester’s, we heard the announcement guy pass by the house. This guy gets paid to go down the streets of Namiyonga belting out announcements of meetings, funerals, and gatherings. Usually he starts late night or early morning, when things in the village quiet down. This time he was announcing the details of the Freedom Torch which will pass through tomorrow.

I bought beef tonight for mama to cook. Tanzanians eat about any part of an animal. Ester was telling me how good cow brain and goat skin are. I thought I was doing good trying chicken foot and half dried octopus tentacles. People in America win money on shows such as Fear Factor or Survivor eating the sort of things Tanzanians consider normal meals.

Mama Ester caught a kitten a few days ago and is holding the poor thing hostage until it gets used to people and calms down. I can hear the kitten cry from across the road, and after 2 long nights of the kitten’s continuous meowing, the whole family is ready to get rid of it… except for Mama Ester. Rats are such a nuisance in the house, Mama would rather listen to the incredibly loud and pathetic cry from the distraught kitten than deal with damage caused by rats each night. The rats eat the family’s stored corn & any food lying around. Baba was even afraid to leave a spraying applicator out because rats might chew and destroy it. Mama told me there’s a family on the outskirts of the village whose kids have scars all over their arms and legs because the rats nibble at them when they’re asleep. I haven’t seen these kids yet, but I actually believe it. I read in a book of another Peace Corps volunteer’s experience that the village kids took care to wash their hands well after eating at night so the rats wouldn’t nibble on their fingers thinking their fingers were food. Back to the kitten; it’s a carbon copy of Issa. Apparently when I was in America and Issa was staying at Mama Ester’s house, he managed to escape one night and didn’t come back until the next morning. Mama was so worried that she had lost Issa, but Issa was just out with one of his lady friends. Many of the villagers joke that we’ll need to hold a Muslim wedding for Issa now that he has a girlfriend; with suit, tie and everything. Just this morning the kitten mysteriously “ran away”. Later Ester confided in me that she purposely assisted the kitty’s escape due to it’s unrelenting yowling.

It’s funny to hear Ester and the whole family try to mimic me by saying “kitty kitty” really fast when calling Issa.

July 24, 2010

Mwenge came to Namiyonga today. Mwenge is the flaming freedom torch that represents Tanzania’s Independence. This event consisted of lots of dancing, drumming, choirs, and speeches from govt officials. Mwenge goes through every district of every region once a year, and there is only one torch. I’ve never seen so many cars in my village (about 10 cars lined up, parade style). The teachers and other village officials wore matching track suits (I wore one as well) which was a pretty big deal, especially since it may have been the very first time some of the women wore pants.

At the Mwenge event, someone came up to me and asked if I was from Japan. I thought this was kinda funny, especially since I tower over most of the adults there.

July 31, 2010

I just got news that another PC volunteer will be located just a 10 minute bike ride from my house! There are a total of 9 new volunteers coming to Mtwara region, and three of them will be in Newala district. I’m really excited to meet these new volunteers and have Americans as close neighbors. They’ll be coming in less than a month. Ben and Toni will be my closest neighbors. Both are in their mid-twenties. Ben is from South Carolina and Toni is from Louisiana.

It felt so weird to say goodbye to the older volunteers in my region who just left. I remember when I first came to my site and how I looked up to the old PCVs for advice and how I felt like they had mastered Kiswahili, projects and overall life in TZ. I remember not understanding why they didn’t have very many projects going at the time I met them, and I wondered what they did for a whole year. Now I know, it takes a lot of time and effort just to get adjusted into vill life and develop connections with the villagers. I’m glad I’m now the “old pcv” so that I can actually help out these newbies rather than be helped and always rely on others.

Random Memory: One night a bunch of us PCVs were sitting outside of a bar near the Masasi bus stand, eating chipsi and drinking the local lager. We were all a little curious why the volunteer in Masasi town, Luke, hadn’t shown up yet. A bit later, Luke came and sat down with us and apologized that he was late because he had to park his car. We all laughed at this joke because of course Luke didn’t own a car; none of us were allowed to drive during our 2 yrs of PC service. When we finished our beers and were ready to go, Luke told us to stay put, he’d be right there to pick us up in his car. Thinking he was just going to use this car joke all night, we laughed and yet wondered, was he actually serious?! Soon a white beat-up car came past our table with Luke behind the wheel. We acted like twelve years olds again…..all giddy that we were in a car and breaking rules. We laughed all the way to his place, still completely amused at how Luke got ahold of a car. Later we found out that his neighbors had asked him to drive their car back from their farm, and Luke then got permission to use the family car for that night. Good memories….

Random note: Grey (Ester’s little brother, around 8 yrs old) asked me what the toilet paper roll I had been carrying in my bag was for. I was using the tp as kleenex for my cold. Grey was just amused with tp because he’s never seen it before. Here they just use left hand and water…why you don’t ever shake someone’s left hand or even hand something over with left hand. Very offensive.

Baba Ester was very excited about his copy of the Nance County Journal article of my experience in TZ. Baba is a retired education officer, so he knows enough English and was able to understand and even translated the article for other older men hanging around the market. Baba was so proud to show other villagers how his family had made the American news, me being included in his family. I don’t even know if my district or region has a newspaper here. If there is, no one in my village is able to afford it.

August 1, 2010

It’s very late as I’m writing this mainly due to a rat incident. I was about to take my bucket bath, opened the bathroom door and found a rat in the bucket I was planning on using to bathe. My automatic instinct was to grab Issa, throw him in the direction of the rat, and close the door of my house. Issa has a tendency to bring everything he catches into the house (I’ve had rats, chickens, squirrels, and lizards all drug into my house…but Issa doesn’t kill them immediately. His victims desperately try to escape, and sometime the escape leads to my bedroom.) Anyway, after an unnecessary process of prolonging torture and lots of squeaking, the rat was dead and I was able to continue with my nightly routine.

Earlier tonight I was caught off guard when I got a knock on my door around 8:30 pm. No one comes around at night, so I’m extra cautious whenever I get a “hodi” at my door after dusk. It happened to be my neighbor boys wanting to know if they could borrow some matches. They had spotted a bee hive earlier that day and wanted to smoke the bees out. I was curious how this worked so I went along with them. I watched completely amused as the boys climbed up a tree in the dark with ease. The first tree’s hive was empty. But the second attempt with a hollowed out tree next to it was successful. The boys stuck long bundles of burning grass in each side near the hive, while another boy collected the honeycombs by rolling a stick inside the hive. These boys acted like pros, and I was impressed by how gracefully they handled everything. I tried to imagine kids in America doing this, but most kids are so stuck to their tvs, they wouldn’t bother venturing outside, nor would that be very safe in many parts of the country to play outside after dark. Anyway, I found this idea of collecting honey very interesting and it got me thinking of looking into a beekeeping project.

August 6, 2010

These thoughts from Moritz Thomsen, Peace Corps Volunteer and author of “Living Poor”, were interesting and very much pertain to life as I see it every day in my village.

“People who are poor buy things when needed. Villagers may go to the market 3 times a day or send a child for each time”

- I see this all the time and I always feel a bit guilty about buying things in bulk b/c villagers know I have enough money to do so. I often see kids with water bottles on their way to the market to buy just 4 tablespoons or less of oil. They’ll have to do the same thing every night, or even before every meal. However, villagers don’t have much money to go around, and they never know when they might have to pay for something unexpected such as medicines or a trip to the doctor.

“Poor people steal; this is a trait they have in common with the rich, whose thefts vary only in the degree of the necessity and the quality of the theft”

August 7, 2010

Today was kinda hard, not being there for Melissa (my cousin) and Austin’s wedding. I spent the day in my village imagining what was happening a continent away. The time difference makes this separation and distance even harder. So weird to think that when I was getting ready for bed, Melissa and Austin were saying their vows, and the next morning when I woke up, people were probably busting out their last dance moves at the wedding reception. Missing big family events is definitely one of the harder things to deal with when being overseas.

August 12, 2010

Almost all the people in my village are Muslims, therefore a majority of them have begun fasting for Ramadan today. Ramadan lasts for 30 days, and begins only after spotting the moon (not sure how this works exactly). Those who are fasting cannot eat or drink anything until 6:00-6:30pm (some people take off one minute starting at 6:30 the first night, then 6:29pm the next night, etc). For this meal, people are supposed to sit in an open place so they can invite passersbys to join them. Fasting starts after 4 am, so those fasting wake up at 3am to eat. It’s hard to come by food in the market (only food which you buy to cook later is available), and even my favorite juice man in Newala quit making juice until Ramadan is over. I’ll be celebrating Eid-ul-Fitr (last day of Ramadan) because there will finally be food available!

August 27, 2010

This morning at 5am, as I made my way to the village bus stand, I noticed a bunch of big white lumps near a fire. Apparently the 10 yr old boy who was suffering from a liver disease passed away during the night. It’s tradition, for Muslims and Christians, that close family members and friends spend three nights at the house of the deceased. Therefore these white lumps were men in their white Muslim robes sleeping on mats in front of the house. I didn’t see the women because they sleep inside.

September 3, 2010

Most of the Mid Service Conference consisted of health checkups. I have been really healthy so far, so I didn’t have any problems getting through the checkups, although the dental checkup was a bit unnerving. The dentist used unfamiliar tools and fluids, and she didn’t know a whole lot of English (she’s from Yugoslavia). It was hard to be reassured that my checkup would be fine because I was not familiar with this dentist. I realized that I take a lot for granted when I’m able to trust medical and dental professionals in America.

September 5, 2010

I’m on a Dar es Salaam bus heading back to my village returning from my Mid-Service Conference. I woke up at 5 am with the other pcvs who were also traveling south. I planned to take a separate bus than the rest of the pcvs because I wanted a bus that takes me straight thru my village. However, after all the pcvs left, a man from the ticket office informed me that the bus I was waiting for wasn’t coming. Apparently when I bought my ticket, the men working the ticket booth lied about the bus running today. Luckily I got my money back from the same bus line at a different ticket office. Then I managed to grab a taxi to race to the last bus stand in Dar in order to get on another bus heading to Newala. I always worried about this happening…buying a ticket for a bus that doesn’t exist or isn’t running. I won’t miss the lack of reliability with transportation here in TZ. As I write this now, I believe we’re on our fourth try going thru the weigh station. Not sure what they plan on doing…getting rid of people, luggage, or just paying a bribe or fine for being over the weight limit. There is one thing though that I might actually miss about Tanzanian buses. Traveling together with a group forms a bond, especially during breakdowns and long stall periods of waiting/ time at weigh stations. Sometimes in America we can be too independent and rushed to take the opportunity to sit and chat with a stranger.

September 5, 2010

Mom called to tell me my cousin Tara had a baby boy….the first baby coming from my generation. It’s crazy to think that Tara and Jake are now parents and my grandparents are now great grandparents. Time keeps moving fast…

I remember in America how Labor Day weekend marked the last warm days of the summer. Kinda hard to imagine that here in TZ. I miss the changes of seasons in Nebraska. Here in TZ it’s either really dry or it’s raining almost every day. The only seasons I keep track of here are the fruit seasons: oranges/tangerines – June/July/August, mangoes – Dec/Jan, etc.

The number of lies I tell when shopping in the market or on a bus is outrageous. Usually the lies are used to deter a guy from bothering me. I lie about having a husband (I often use Issa as my “husband”…so I’m not completely lying. He is male and he’s living at my house) and not having a phone so I don’t have a number to give. Sometimes it gets a bit difficult to keep track of these lies, and I’ve caught myself forgetting that I can’t check my text messages because I “don’t have a phone”. Depending on my mood and the person whom I’m talking to, sometimes making up these stories is kinda fun and I enjoy joking around. Others days I just can’t get rid of an annoying guy or I’m too tired to bother getting creative with my stories.

September 7, 2010

Today Ester came over and warned me that if an unknown number comes up or a text in red appears on my phone, not to answer my phone. Apparently there have been numerous deaths of people who made the fatal mistake of taking these phone calls or reading the text. I laughed when Ester told me this, but later that evening Mama Ester came to my house. Mama was seriously worried, and made the walk to my house to double check that I understood it. I guess these deaths due to cursed phone call/text messages have been announced thru Kenya news, and all over Tanzanian people know about this.

Today some Form 2 students got “fukuza”, kicked out of school. Apparently five Form 2 girls are now pregnant; therefore they are no longer allowed to continue their secondary school studies. The two male teachers (actually the only teachers) asked if I had anything to say to these girls or to give them advice on what they should do. I had nothing to say, except that I thought the girls should still be allowed to study. These girls are around 15 yrs old, and apparently the “daddies” are older village men.

September 10, 2010

Today my villagers celebrated Eid-ul-Fitr (last day of Ramadan). It was a big deal. A cow was slaughtered in the morning and sold in the market. Everyone was wearing new/best outfits and prepared the best meal they could afford (rice, seasoned rice, and some kind of meat). I was invited over to my home repairman’s place along with Toni and Ben. We were given pilau (seasoned rice with meat) and given a place inside his house to eat while the rest of his family ate plain rice outside. Later that night the three of us went to the disco held in my village. I danced with the craziest little 2.5 yr old dancer. He could bust better moves than all three of us volunteers. I guess the Secondary School Academic master told his students not to attend the dance b/c they would get pregnant. Probably not too far from the truth b/c most people there were young men, and many of them were drinking.

September 15, 2010

I went to Mama Ester’s dad’s funeral. Almost the entire village attends a funeral, even if one doesn’t know who died. For Muslim funerals, only the men are allowed to be near the body and bury it. They sit in front of the house and pray while the women sing back behind the house. The women’s singing is really neat to see. They make a big circle and get on their knees, and make strange, deep grunting noises as they sway their upper body and arms. I hope I can get a video of it b/c there is no way to describe it. Because funerals involve the whole village, funerals act as a social gathering. One boy told me he enjoys funerals b/c people sit around and tell stories. There is definitely sorrow at these funerals, but only from the intimate family members and friends, and often they’re hidden from view, or in the house. Otherwise, funerals I’ve seen aren’t that gloomy. Actually at this last funeral, a man was walking around the groups of women selling nose earrings (most Muslim women here have their nose pierced). For the dress code, all the women cover their heads (I cover mine as well, which gets the villagers excited b/c I look like a Muslim). Men wear white Muslim robes with hats. Money is collected during ceremony, less than 4 cents, although there are villagers who say they don’t even have that to give. For both Christian and Muslim funerals, close family and friends spend 3 nights at the deceased person’s house. The men sleep outside and the women sleep inside.

Water is becoming harder and harder to come by. Villagers have to use the little water they have wisely, and sometimes it’s a choice between cooking and bathing. Even fruit, such as papaya or melon, is used as an alternative for water to cook rice. Starting last week, I’ve been helping one pregnant mother by allowing her to take water from my well for free. She comes during the evenings to fetch water so that not very many people will see her and ask where she’s getting her water from. I’m worried I’ll have more people come asking me for water, and I’ll have to be selfish and say no, otherwise there won’t be enough water for me in the coming months. It’s funny b/c I came here with a big helping heart. I wanted to help everyone to the best of my ability. Well here, everyone could use some help, and I always have to be on guard so I don’t get taken advantage of. Obviously I can’t help everyone, and I have to be selective about who I help.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

THANK YOU!

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Please Help Us Build A Library

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Namiyonga School Library Project

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Library Renovation Project Description

Monday, January 31, 2011

Library Renovation Info

Thursday, September 30, 2010

July, August, September 2010

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Tanzania!

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