Week 2

Roche – Before and after my official meetings in Roche I got to spend some time in the health clinic that was built by Village Life and is operated by SHED, their local partner organization. It happened to be both the busiest and most bizarre day in the history of the clinic. Patients were streaming in all day from all over the country (and even crossing the border from Kenya) to seek medical help. One elder man who was 65 and walked with a cane, said he had to walk 4 hours through the mountains to get from his village in Kenya to the clinic. Amongst the most bizarre things I saw (which happen to also be the most bizarre the doctor says she has ever seen) were: a mother who brought her two albino children who had severe 2^nd degree burns all over their faces, necks and arms from sun exposure; A father who rushed in his 7-year old daughter who was playing outdoors and started acting completely crazy, he first took her to a local doctor who said she had clearly been the victim of a spell and that he should take her to a witch doctor at once, fortunately he decided to not take that advice but rather come to us, turns out the girl had eaten some of his tobacco fertilizer and was having serious hallucinations from the toxins; a lady who came in 26-weeks pregnant but turned out was having an incredibly rare case where her baby was growing not in her uterus but in her abdomen, she had to be rushed to a hospital in Mwanza (about 2 hours away) for emergency surgery which could save her life (although the life of the baby is probably impossible to save); and possibly the most entertaining, a woman who came in and we found had syphilis. When we informed her that she had to bring her husband and his other 3 wives in for testing as well she refused, when pressed she admitted that she probably got syphilis from someone who was not her husband and didn’t want to have to tell him. “Why does he get to have 4 wives and me just 1 man?” #girlpower 

Water – Water is a big deal here. Safe drinking water is hard to find and dry periods are really devastating for the area which dries up quickly and leaves people and animals literally dying from thirst. While in Roche, there was a period of heavy rain for about 5 minutes, then it passed completely. As soon as it had passed, people rushed to grab buckets and surround the edges of the health clinic building with them. As they kept saying, “we can’t allow this good water to go to waste. We will have water for days from this rain!” Later in the day, I was talking with a local about his and his family’s use of a water filter. He was gracious enough to invite me into his hut, and that of several of his wives and even his mother, to show me how each different “family” uses the mosquito nets and water filters distributed by Village Life. It was also eye-opening to see how life in one of the huts is. The last question he asked me was, “do you use this filter in your home in America?” Between water issues (including the non-existence of hot water and the lack of available drinking water) and the almost constant and complete lack of electricity, I’ve come to already really start to appreciate some small things back home that we don’t remember to be grateful for.

Drinking from the River – While still on the topic of water…I didn’t want to say this until I knew the results, but for my first several days here, there was no bottled water available. Despite the constant warnings from pretty much everyone who knew I was coming to Tanzania, I ended up having to drink sink water (which comes from a local river). Perhaps it was luck, perhaps my stomach is better prepared because I was born and grew up in Brazil, perhaps its not as bad as people say; but fortunately, I can now say over a week out, that I haven’t gotten sick at all. Wohoo!

4 days of darkness – Sounds like some biblical plague, but unfortunately I’m referring to my life here in Shirati. This past week was rough when it comes to electricity, seeing 4 full days without it (3 of them in a row) and a combined total of 11-hours of electricity for the other 3 days (meaning, for the week). This made me laptop, cell phone and ipod-less for a few days. It also meant I had to use a whole lot of candles which I’ve now gotten pretty good at using. For some reason, I sometimes struggle in putting the candle out though. I don’t know if these are special-resistant candles, if the breeze coming in through the window makes the fire harder to put out or if putting out candles is just a skill I have not yet mastered (sort of like opening a sleeping bag) but whatever the reason, I’ve had to huff and puff like the big bad wolf to get these things out at bedtime. 

The Night Watchman – He and I have become friends as he walks me home to my hostel every evening. He’s a great guy and works horrible hours; 7 pm to 4 am every evening. That’s 9 hours a night, 7 days a week. Meaning he works 63 hours a week and roughly 280 hours a month. I found out that he makes $28 a month. That’s 10 cents an hour.

A cruise in Burere – After meeting with Village Life committee members and tribe leaders in Burere, a second village where I am working this summer, the locals told me that they wanted to express their gratitude to me for coming to work in their community for so long. So they brought me down to the bottom of the city (it has an incredibly spectacular view of Lake Victoria and goes down through the hills all the way to the actual Lake), put me at the head of one of their fishing boats and rowed me around the Lake for about 20 minutes. It was explained to me that this ceremonial welcome is given to those who the elders respect and want to introduce to the community. Apart from the formalities of it (which I was honored by) the boat ride had one of the most spectacular views I’ve seen. After the boat ride, they also gave me a small bag of dried anchovies as another welcoming gesture. Yum, dried anchovies…

My ipod Playlist – Most played songs since I’ve arrived:

1.      Circle of Life

2.      In the Jungle

3.      Waka Waka (sung by Shakira)

“Cause this is Ah-frica!”   

Elephant Raid – I am just an hour drive from the Serengeti, which I hope to get to see while I’m here. But no need to wait, the Serengeti can come to me! Last evening a pack of wild elephants left the Serengeti until they reached the neighboring village to mine and then went back. This nighttime elephant raid destroyed several fields of crop and even some huts in the nearby village, injuring a couple people caught in the middle of it all. On the news, a local said that we must avenge for this destruction by going after the elephants. The Tanzanian government has already responded reminding people that they are a protected species and cannot be killed no matter how insensitive their nighttime stroll was to the local population. A debate on the merits of both sides followed on the news. I couldn’t make this up folks.

Our First Ambulance – Coming out of my practicum work at the Clinton School, which was all about trauma care in Arkansas, I felt like Arkansas had a lot to work on when it comes to emergency care. But I guess it’s all about perspective. The District which I am living in just got its first ambulance, donated by a private donor in the United States. The ambulance is essentially a modified pick-up truck with a large cover in the back so that people can sit in it, and it’s all painted white. The district covers about 600 miles of rocky, muddy, non-paved terrain, making the ambulance more of a luxury for my city and its closest neighbors than for the whole district. Issues of maintenance of the vehicle and who will pay for its gas have already started being brought up. Unfortunately, most will probably never benefit from this ambulance, but it will certainly mean the world to those who do. 

Adventures with my Future Wife (and other friends) – Partly by luck and partly by need (see later post entitled “Fort Wilson”) I’ve been fortunate in making some local friends here. There are few people good enough (and confident enough) in their English to want to talk to me but two have stood out. One is a 24-year old guy who is from Shirati but went to college in the U.S. so speaks very good English, and the other is a 20-year old girl who is an English teacher at the local primary school (what we’d call Elementary school). We’ve been hanging out a lot, which is awesome as we’ve gotten a chance to talk a lot, discuss cultural differences and similarities, they’ve taken me out on weekend nights, they’ve taken me to hikes, around the city, and introduced me to their friends, quickly multiplying my local friend base here. This is great as I think it’ll be a lot harder to make local friends once other Americans arrive and start populating my hostel. One interesting point though is that the girl I described wants more than a friendship; and I’m not just talking about dating…she wants to marry me. Forget the clear indications that she likes me, she was more direct than that; “Maybe we should get married and be rich together in America”. Ahh, true love.

Pickie-Pickie – Motorcycle taxis (pickie-pickies) are the only real way that people have to get around here. No one has vehicles and while most will walk miles and miles to get places daily, some who have the money will take the luxury of using these pickie-pickies which cost about $1.25 for up to 10 miles. Now these things are incredibly unsafe, and are the number one cause of non-illness related deaths in the area. They will pack 4 people on these tiny motorcycles (plus the driver), without a helmet, and take it on the dirt/rock/mud roads of the area that even cars can barely get through. Each person holds on to the one in front of them and hopes for the best. After a long walk to Lake Victoria with my friends (whom I’ve described above), during which we got lost and ended up walking for two hours in the blazing sun instead of the half hour walk we expected, we were all exhausted and decided for better or for worse to take a pickie-pickie back. It was an adventure that led to me, on more than one occasion, thinking I would die. Besides the near death experience, the thing also ran out of gas halfway through the trip and we had to sit at the side of the road for about half an hour as the driver ran it to the nearest filling station and drove back to pick us up.     

Nyambogo – Speaking of thinking I would die while on a vehicle; the last of the three villages that I’m working in is Nyambogo, this is by far the most isolated one. Not only is it pretty far away but getting there takes you through the craziest road I’ve ever seen. The road is barely visible, its more a path cut through the woods, and its very very rocky. At times the car would be completely on one side, then the other, I was amazed that it didn’t flip (although I hear that about 2 years ago this very car did flip over in this very road, guess my driver’s being more careful) and at times the road would be completely impassible and we’d have to cut in through the woods for a bit before turning back into the road.  

I’m A Celebrity – While driving up to Nyambogo, we stopped by a local primary school to get some materials that were needed. Once the kids saw a mzungu (me) they all ran out of their classrooms and came to do their traditional pointing, staring, and screaming of “mzungu!” as if I didn’t realize that I was a white foreigner myself (or from the 80,000 other reminders I’ve gotten this week from little kids in the streets). As I always do when little kids do this here, I tried to humanize myself so I was not just a “mzungu”, so I told them in Swahili “my name is Fernando” and asked for the first little kid’s name. It took him a while to overcome the fear and shock of me talking directly to him in a crowd of 300 or so little kids. He finally answered and I shook his hand and said “nice to meet you”. The response was incredible. The little kids all wanted to introduce themselves to me and I did the first politician-style massive handshake of my life, shaking about 300 little hands in about one minute. Reminding me that celebrities aren’t always just loved though, about 2 blocks down the road from this school a little kid who clearly had a different feeling (or most likely whose parents had a different feeling) towards mzungus saw my car approaching and spit at me through the open window. He hit me right in the face. While I recognize that these kids don’t actually know me and don’t like or hate me for who I am, but rather for what they’ve been taught about “my kind”, it was still a good lesson for me on how there are two sides to every story.

Euro Final – Saturday night, my friend and I went out to the local bar to watch the European Champions League final matchup between Manchester United and Barcelona. The bar, the only one in the area, normally closes at 9 pm, but that night they stayed open until Midnight (although they were not serving any drinks) so people could watch the game. I was shocked when we got there and found about 1,000 people crammed sardine-style at the bar all looking at a wall projecting the game. Most, including me, were standing trying their best to see. Some had walked miles from their homes carrying chairs so that they could sit somewhere. These weren’t the foldable American chairs either, these were huge, heavy metal chairs they’d carry on their heads. The environment there was electrifying with huge screams, jeers and calls every time a team touched the ball. People would get so excited that they’d bump into the projector which would veer it off course and not allow anyone to see what was happening. Boos and bottles tossed in that direction would be enough to get someone to fix the problem fairly quickly. When a team would score, the place would go insane with people jumping, dancing, doing weird yells, running around and pumping chairs up and down like they were spears in a time of war. Not everyone could afford the 30 cent charge to get into the bar and so over 100 people (mostly kids) stood outside the gates trying to gauge the game from the crowd’s reactions. About 5 minutes after the second half started, the owner had pity and opened the gates making the place become even more packed. 15 minutes into the second half the power went out and we were all left in complete darkness. People booed and cursed the government for allowing something like this to happen at such an important time. People waited and waited but nothing happened. Finally, the owner of the bar came out with a 10-inch battery powered TV and over 1,000 of us crammed around it to watch. When Barcelona scored its 3^rd and final goal, the people who were closest to the TV started celebrating, news of who had scored trickled back slowly to nervous fans and it wasn’t until the ball was back in play that I heard the last of the Barcelona fans, who were farthest from the TV, starting to scream, jump and haul. It was an incredible experience!  

Fort Wilson – Every evening for almost two weeks now I’ve had to snuggle in to my mosquito net before I can fall asleep in bed. With my flashlight on and the mosquito net around me, the situation reminds me of forts I would make in my bed sheets when I was younger. Inspired by the movie “Castaway” (which is similar to how I feel over here) I’ve decided to name my mosquito net sleeping area “Fort Wilson”. Maybe it’s the isolation, maybe it’s the culture shock, maybe it’s the malaria medication, but I’m hoping that Fort Wilson will be as good a friend to me as that volleyball was to Tom Hanks…

Week 1

Getting Here – 3 hour flight to Detroit; 2 hour layover; 8 hour flight to Amsterdam; 3 hour layover; 9 hour flight to Nairobi; 11 hour layover; 6 hour ride to Tanzanian border; 3 hour ride to Shirati. Total transportation time: 45 hours.

Kenya – Very much like I imagined it. Shamim (a classmate of mine) organized for friends to pick me up and for me to stay in her mom’s house while I was in Nairobi. Nairobi reminded me a lot of a slightly poorer version of Rio. Kenya’s countryside on the way to Tanzania was incredible to observe, many colorfully dressed people, women carrying water and a baby on their backs, etc.

Tanzania – I was correctly expecting Kenya to be very similar to how it actually was. I was incorrectly expecting Tanzania to be the same as Kenya. Kenya’s countryside seemed like a resort compared to Tanzania’s. As soon as I crossed the border I noticed much more poverty. Everyone lives in huts, women carry huge buckets in their heads with no support from their hands, children are clearly malnourished and “roads” are exclusively made of dirt with more potholes than not.

Shirati – Electricity here goes in and out randomly. Since I got here its mostly been out. I’m writing this now over candlelight. The upside I guess is that I have candlelight dinners most nights; not as cool when you don’t have a choice. Speaking of dinners, I am completely alone at my “hostel” the first 16 days that I’m here. Therefore its not worth it for them to hire a cook just for me, and instead I must hike 2 miles (each way) to the local motel for each meal. The upside is that my 12-miles of walking a day, on top of the several miles I do in the villages, is getting me really fit! Internet is extremely limited. I have found a cell phone based dial-up modem to use. I have to pay per minute and per kilobyte received and used. The internet is also very very slow and does not allow for anything to be downloaded (including pictures, sorry folks) or for attachments to be sent on emails.

My Life – Well, things are interesting. Showers are freezing cold and on apparently random days when the government declares a “water shortage” showers and toilets are banned. In their place we must use a bucket for the toilet (just a bucket) and we are given a bucket (different one, don’t worry) of river water. My computer and cell phone use is limited to when I can find electricity to charge these items. I am also in the middle of the jungle. Animals roam freely here and oftentimes I wake up to a cow mooing right next to me from my glass-less window. Roosters like to try to wake me up around 5 am every morning. A bull prevented me from leaving my room for about half an hour as he just sat in front of my door and starred at me as I tried to use the door to shove him aside. I’m pretty sure he briefly laughed at my futile attempts before slowly moving out of my way. Baboons move (and mate) freely around me and just yesterday the “main street” in Shirati (don’t try to imagine it, you can’t) was blocked for a solid 20 minutes as two goats fought through intense rounds of head butts and the locals watched in amusement.

Coca-Cola – Owns East Africa. Seriously, it certainly seems that way. They offer to paint and/or put up a sign for any business or organization that in turn allows them to paint everything in the Coke colors and make the biggest part of the building or sign be the classic Coca-Cola signature and a drawing of a person drinking a bottle of Coke. Places here tend to not have enough money to paint their own structures or put up their own signs, so they sign up with Coke. They ALL do. Highlights include seeing 14 shops in a row painted as if they were each a Coke factory despite the fact that none of them even sold Coke products; the fact that every city sign is in Coke colors (with their signature on top); the fact that every school sign is in Coke colors (with their signature on top); and my absolute favorite…the Coca-Cola Police Stations all over the country. What a happy place to go to if you’re in trouble! I was thirsty at one point and briefly considered committing a crime.

Witchcraft – I went to the local health clinic to shadow the American doctor who lives here for a day. We saw three patients that day, unfortunately all three had had miscarriages. In explaining what had happened to the women, she said she completely understood and did not hold anything against the doctor as it was not her fault. Rather, it was her mother-in-law’s fault. You see, she explained, her mother in law had put a curse on her three days before since she preferred her husband’s third wife to her (the 2^nd). She went on and on blaming her mother-in-law and explaining how she was a known witch in their village. Her husband stood next to her bed silently throughout this time.   

Worth 17 cows – Speaking of several wives, those who practice traditional African religions (by one local’s estimates, about 50% of those here in Shirati) do tend to marry a lot. They do not marry based on love, but based on need and prestige. A man must give a dowry of cows to the family of his new wife. Depending on which tribe she comes from, the dowry might be anywhere from 4 to 17 cows. Elders have recently ruled that a man cannot substitute more than one-quarter of the agreed upon amount of cows with money. This is because getting the cows is like a slaying of a dragon of sorts that proves the man’s dedication to his new wife. The origin of the cows must be agreed upon by both families and they tend to come from far away. The man must arrange for the transportation of the cows and hand deliver them to the women’s father or older brother. The man must also build a new hut for each wife (and their future children) and always keep a private hut for himself. If he cannot do all of the above, then he is not prepared to take on another wife.

Inherited wives – While still in the topic of polygamy, I met a man who was telling me about how he had 3 wives. When his elder brother died though, he inherited his brother’s 3 wives and so now had 6 wives. He also inherits all of the children and when I asked how many kids he had he said he wasn’t sure anymore, but guessed somewhere in the 30 range. When someone goes up to him and tells him they are his child, his first question is “who is your mother”? As a “proper gentlemen” (his words, not mine) he does not pick favorites amongst his wives, but rather allows for his first and eldest wife to create his calendar which is done on a monthly basis. The calendar determines which wife he will sleep with on any given night. The man complained about how he didn’t get enough nights off on his own tent to rest. Each wife demanded more children and his attention which was really wearing on him. He had officially requested more time off for his next month’s calendar. He also requested more time with his sixth wife, who he said was actually his favorite for how young she was, but awaited his elder wife’s decision next month to see if his requests would be approved or not.  

Will he eat me? – I am like a rare bird. Or a well-known President…of an alien country. People of all age groups stare at me from distances. They openly point and laugh, or stare intently in amusement and disbelief. Yes, I am a “mzungu” translated as “foreigner, usually a white person”. Most kids have never seen a mzungu before, most adults can count the number they’ve seen their whole lives. They seem to not understand how we could exist, where we come from or why/how we’re all so rich. At a local event I attended, I kid came up to me very scared, he ran away. He then came up again (never closer than maybe 5 yards from me) and asked in Swahili to the man next to me “will he eat me?”

A Month of Mourning (and Feasting) – I was invited to attend a mourning session with the family who owns the hostel. After a funeral takes place here, the family must have a “mourning period” where they host extended family and guests who come to pay their respects. Because some people travel from far away, these mourning periods must last at least 30 days, and can go as long as 45 days. During this time, no one in the immediate family is allowed to work or even to leave the house of the deceased (which is also where they are buried). They must stay and serve whatever guests happen to be around three meals a day. In turn, the guests are expected to bring a goat as a condolence gift to the grieving family. Also interesting, for the first three days after a burial, there must always be a “mourner” loudly mourning over the grave. This is a woman who will cry and scream and do all sorts of attention drawing things to show how much she misses the deceased person. While normally this is a family member, it can’t always be a family member (24 hours a day for 3 days is a long time) and so they have hired mourners for parts of the day and night.

All the Swahili I need I learned from The Lion King – Seriously, I’ve been fluent in some Swahili since I was young and didn’t even know it!

Rafiki – Friend

Simba – Lion

Hakuna Matata – No worries (I know it says it in the song, but still, I didn’t know they meant it)

Pumba – Chicken feed

Ethnic Fighting and the Gold Mine – I did the 45-minute safari (translates to “journey”) to Tarime this week, the closest “big city”, meaning paved streets and a bank. Tarime, unfortunately, is also a very violent city. Everyone, including the locals, know that they have to be out of the city or indoors by 6 pm as intertribal fighting begins almost daily in the streets at that time. Several people are killed every week from these clashes. Normally there is no police presence, or they don’t care enough to intervene. However, while I happened to be there having lunch, a rare occasion of intertribal fighting broke out during the day. This one was headed towards the local gold mine (one of the largest gold mines in East Africa; a huge source of suffering for the locals but a billion dollar industry to foreign investors and national politicians who signed the mine away to them). When the area near the foreign-owned mine was threatened the police, of course, sprung into full action. 6 truckloads of police officers in full riot gear immediately surrounded the developing conflict. One tribe had spears, the other had bush knives and the police surrounded both with guns. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you how it concluded as I was about 100 yards from this as it happened and decided to take off.  

Obama is a Luo – Several, and I mean SEVERAL members of the local Luo tribe have told me that Obama is actually a Luo. In fact, the day after Obama was elected President was a national holiday in both Kenya and Tanzania. They told me that his father is full-blooded Luo and that makes him one as well, no matter where he was born. Some even claim he was born in a local Luo tribe right across the border in Kenya. I have begun looking for a copy of his long form birth certificate in local Luo hospitals. Warn Donald Trump folks, this debate isn’t quite over yet!

Preparing for my Departure

Let me start by saying that I will most likely not be bloging too frequently. This is because A) I generally don't like blogs and B) I will be in Shirati, Tanzania where internet access is extremely limited. However, I decided to start this blog because I expect there to be some funny stories (mostly at my expense I presume) that I'll probably want to share with classmates, friends, the Clinton School community and anyone else who stops by my blog. What better way to do it?

I will be leaving in just two days for a 10-week trip to Shirati, Tanzania. Once there, I will be working with an organization based in Cincinnati called Village Life Outreach Project: www.villagelifeoutreach.org

They have been around for 6 years now and amongst other things they distribute mosquito nets and water filters to local villagers. My job will be to create the first ever Project Evaluation of both the mosquito net project and the water filter project so that they know how well a job they're doing, how/if they can improve and expand their work, and, hopefully, they can show methodological results of their work to donors proving the quality of the organization.

Tomorrow morning I start on my malaria pills and soon I'll be on a plane from Little Rock to Detroit to Amsterdam to Nairobi. Then a 10-hour driven journey to Shirati: http://www.maplandia.com/tanzania/l-victoria/l-victoria/shirati/ (zoom out some and you'll see exactly where in Tanzania it is, northwest, almost Kenya border, on Lake Victoria).

Well that's it for now. Hopefully I'll post some when I get there telling you about my journey and fondly recounting that first time in my life that I will be called a "mzungu".