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!