If you know what life is worth
You will look for yours on earth
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Wow. I'm not sure how to begin today. There's a lot flying around in my head.
I guess I'll start with Baboons.
Yesterday the GSC "volunteers" went on a Safari to Arusha National Park. We rode around in a heavy duty land cruiser, standing up through the open top so we could see the animals. We saw over 100 Baboons, 1000s of flamingos, giraffes, zebras, buffalo, warthogs, tons of birds, and at least three other kinds of monkeys. When we stopped at a waterfall for a break I was shocked and thrilled to find myself within 5ft of an enormous baboon who was just as shocked but not nearly as thrilled to see me, which he made very clear as he ran away. Several times throughout the day we stopped the truck and found ourselves surrounded by monkeys playing, eating, jumping from tree to tree. One time we inadvertently snuck up on a pair of full grown wart hogs. I don't know how they didn't hear us driving up but they snorted and took off once they noticed us. And get this: As a joke I yelled out "Pumbaa! Come back!" and one of them stopped and looked at us for a while!
It was a great day, but I don't think I'll be signing up for any more driving safaris while I'm here. I'm itching to go hiking, and Mt Meru is calling my name daily. I understand that the driving safaris are big ticket income sources for Tanzanian tourism, but the environmental logic is a little twisted. Over 25% of Tanzania is national park reserves. TWENTY FIVE PERCENT! The country itself is about the combined size of California, Nevada, and New Mexico, and 1/4 of that space is protected lands. Well that's fantastic, right? So I'm not exactly stoked about gas guzzling my way around those protected spaces, especially when hiking is more fun anyway. There are a lot of ongoing land struggles between tribal groups and the state. It's a little tricky to get a cohesive look at the situations as they have developed, since everyone I ask seems to have personal experience or family ties to the issues of concern. It's another thing I'm looking at, so I'll update when I have something worthwhile to add.
On Friday night the GSC team went to the Arusha Community Church for their music festival that had been organized by the GSC Tanzanian Coordinator, Erwin Kinsey. My homestay Mama was a tad overwhelmed with the prospect of me going into town and coming home in the dark, but like any protective mama she monitored me via text, and I promised I wouldn't be out too late- a promise I kept. The Jesus-Christ-Makes-Everything-Nice bits made me a touch uncomfortable, but the music was great! Afterwards I needed to catch a daladala back to Tengeru, where I would then take a cab home- it's a 30min walk from tengeru to my house, and walking at night is not an option. I'm officially the only foreigner living in Tengeru, but a few of the other interns waited with me at the daladala stand. I had my pocket knife rolled into the top of my skirt and I held it, closed and covered, in my hand until I got home. It's not like it would have done a whole lot in legitimate self defense, but it would have at least scared off any grabby guys stumbling out of the bar or onto the bus. A local acquaintance from GSC rode the bus with me and about half of the Tanzanian population. The bus was slightly bigger than a daladala, but they packed in more people than you would imagine possible. My swahili isn't exactly trustworthy but I'm pretty sure my new friend (Roger?) asked one of the sober guys on the bus to look out for me before he got off, and I sat with him for the rest of the ride to Tengeru. I had a straight up panic moment when I thought I had missed my stop, but I soon realized that I was where I wanted to be, and I hopped in a taxi to go home. Safe and sound.
Overall, this week has been a good one... but one of frustration, or at times just puzzlement. Global Service Corps has an excellent staff with valuable knowledge that they dispense in a sustainable fashion. They give their interns a holistic, cohesive approach laden with context and hands-on tactics. They have helped many communities, which are in turn teaching their neighbors.
That doesn't mean GSC is doing all that it could.
Technically, I'm a "volunteer" but I see myself as a student, an intern. I'm frustrated because we have an inordinate amount of downtime, and I don't feel like we're being used to the fullest. I've discussed it with my peers, and they unanimously agree. We're here! Use us! Exhaust us! Unfortunately, the program as a whole seems to operate on African time. Now, I do understand that to some degree, because we have to work within the context we're given... but there is so much to do! There's no reason our day should end at 1 or 2 o'clock. Book more sessions! Find more projects! Do SOMETHING with that time!
I'm afraid GSC might be that kid in class with all the potential in the world, but is comfortable resting on its foundation. The planet is not on Africa time. The planet is on a time crunch. People are hungry and sick, the earth has been and continues to be abused. We have the resources, and we need to use them.
So where does this leave me?
The realization came to me while we were on the safari yesterday. All week I was grumpy about not making a bigger impact, not helping more. But I think the bumpy ride through the National Park bounced some sense into me. I. Did. Not. Come. To. Change. Things. Not really. I want to change things, but I came here to learn.
Light bulb!
I claim to be here as a student, right? So I need to learn. My remaining 8 weeks in Tanzania will serve as a personal case study on public health and environmental practice.
I'm useless without conversational Swahili so I'm going to continue studying while out in the village this week, take lessons from the Swahili instructor GSC uses next week when I'm in town. In the meantime I'm going to do as much research as possible on land use, education, infrastructure, health access, the political economy etc etc etc. The GSC office has tons of information and informed staffers, and I'm going to use them to the fullest.
Once I have improved my Swahili and built a foundation (maybe even a thesis?) on Tanzanian health and environmental issues, I'm going to meet with as many health professionals, teachers, government officials, pharmacists, NGO coordinators, and social workers as possible. I want local opinions and international perspectives. What do people think they need? What do they actually need? I have some ideas of what I might find out but I'm ready to let the interviews speak for themselves.
Global Service Corps may be organizing some of my time here, but they've left me a lot of down time too, and I'm going to make the absolute most of it. The staff at GSC has many contacts they can put me in touch with, and plenty of other resources for me to use.
If you can't tell via internet... I'm really excited.
I'm continuing to read Pathologies of Power and I'm almost done with Daniel Quinn's Ishmael. Can I be so bold as to INSIST that everyone read Ishmael? It's value is indescribable. The books are very different and I agree with both of them, so I can practically feel my brain churning around as it arrives at some new platforms on which to rest my personal philosophies. Many of these concepts are things I've thought and felt for as long as I can remember... but now, as I look at health and the environment, my sense of urgency is racing, and I'm getting more and more direction and drive.
THIS IS WHY I TOOK THIS SEMESTER OFF.
In an hour or so I'm meeting with Michael to go to the circus! I'm uber excited because I haven't been in ages, and apparently this is more about acrobats and music than animals and clown cars, so it should be pretty sweet.
I probably won't be updating again until next weekend because I'll be in a village all week doing chicken vaccinations and teaching bio-intensive agriculture... and reading, reading, reading... but stay tuned! I'm sure I'll have loads that I'll want to share by the time I reunite with technology next Saturday.
((sidenote: thank you SO MUCH to everyone who's given positive feedback about this blog! i'm glad that it's been as interesting to you as it has been helpful to me!))
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And now, I need to end this on an impossibly tragic note.
RIP Matthew Healey. I'm so lucky to have known you, and I'm so sorry that we won't be seeing you. You are a class act, a hilarious character, and an unfair loss. We'll miss you, bud.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
"Animal, Vegetable, Miracle"
It has been a very interesting couple of days living in Tengeru.
I ended up going to the Polish Refugee cemetery by myself- 4pm real time can end up being 6:30pm Tanzania time, so I had come and gone by the time everyone showed up. It's tucked in way back off of the main road, but it's a beautiful space. The director wasn't there so there wasn't anyone to fill me in on the story, but I plan to go back. There were as many as 200 graves, but most were marked with Christian crosses, so I don't know if that's typical, or if missionaries handled the burials, or if Christians fled Nazi Poland, but regardless it confused me a bit. Most of the people lasted only a few years- probably Malaria- but some lived well into the 60s and two made it into the 21st century. When I get the whole story I'll post it because it is lost on me.
In other news, deceased Polish war refugees led me to my two best friends in Tanzania!
Yup. I finally found horses.
A very friendly mare and a gorgeous but mannerless stud live at the agriculture college's animal husbandry and care compound. I'll admit I squealed when I saw them. There are literally thousands of sheep, goats, and cows here, but these are the only horses I have seen (thank goodness, otherwise they would be food!)
They live on the way to the cemetery so on my way home from there I stopped at their fence and called to them. Well, wouldn't you know it, horse language it international because they came right over and gladly had me scritch their ears and withers, and play with their noses. A group of kids came by and were very confused by my interest in the horses. I think they were kind of afraid of them- and rightfully so, since those big brown creatures are pretty novel to the area. They made a lot of noise and my friends (the ponies) decided to bail, but once all the people had dispersed I called them again and they came back.
It made me remember why I love horses. It's not that I had forgotten to love them, I just forgot about why. Horses, many animals, are therapeutic. They don't care what you're wearing or how you did on your math test. They won't call you 'mzungu', or ask you for money, or laugh at your makeshift swahili. Animals care how you treat them, not who you are. It may sound like I'm being hard on Tanzanians, but in reality people are just hard on people. I like the people here, I just happen to love these horses.
I've found the same thing with dogs. People here don't feed their dogs, they're busy enough keeping themselves fed. Remember that poverty and unemployment are rampant in east Africa, as in much of the world. These dogs aren't pets. They are guard dogs, they are not fixed, and they are hungry and itchy. Dogs are everywhere but for the most part people are afraid of dogs and dogs are afraid of people. I've befriended the dogs near my homestay and they LOVE me. They were afraid of me at first, but now they wait in the driveway for me to come home, I scratch their ears and pull off a few bugs, and their tails wag, and wag, and wag.
Great guard dogs, eh?
Yes, the animal relationships here are very interesting. For example, it's been very tricky to explain vegetarianism. Things like "buying local" and "free range" and "animal rights" are tough for many Tanzanians to conceptualize. All meat is local! All chickens are free range! No cows are fed grain or meat, and no animals are stuffed into overcrowded, unsanitary pens. Meat is expensive, so they don't eat very much of it. It's prized even though the animals aren't exactly in prime condition. I won't pretend to know the situation of every animal on the continent, but around here they see vegetarianism as being overly sensitive or something. For the most part they can't picture mass production of food. The title of this entry is the name of a book by Barbara Kingsolver about eating locally in the U.S. One of the GSC coordinators is going to lend it to me.
Monday was the end of Ramadan, so we had the day off from GSC and instead I went with my homestay Mama and "brother" Michael to visit their extended family in a village at the base of Kilimanjaro. The ride out there brought the term "off roading" into a funny sort of light, since technically they were roads. It was beautiful out there. The staple food for the region is bananas so the whole area sways to the shade of the banana trees, and we had a cooked banana stew for lunch- not bad! They don't get many foreigners out there since it's off the beaten tourist track. I had a fan club of kids who spent the day hiding behind nearby trees and giggling, and one older man asked Michael in all seriousness if he had brought home his fiancee from Dar es Salaam. We finished our time there visiting with some of their cousins, some of whom are bicycle mechanics. I flipped when I saw a bike made entirely of wood and a few nails. I asked the kids to ride it for me so I could take pictures. At first they were very shy, but once I showed them the video feature on my digital camera the driveway turned into the set of Tanzania's Funniest Home Videos. They were hysterical! All in all it was a pretty great day. I've been really lucky to have a homestay family that includes me in things like that. It was a place I wouldn't have seen otherwise.
Tuesday morning Michael and I played card games. He taught me "One Card" which is essentially Uno but with different rules, and I taught him Spit, which he picked up very quickly. We listened to all different kinds of African music- gospel from South Africa, Hip Hop from Kenya, traditional tribal from Mozambique. I'm really excited to burn a few CD's. He told me all about his uber strict boarding school in Dar. It's a "seminary" run by Turks where the students are forbidden to have cell phones, play cards, listen to music, or talk about girls. When I asked him if he knew it was like that before he went, he laughed and said he never would have gone so it's better that he didn't know. Michael wants to be a doctor and he's got his heart set on going to the U.S. for college. I'm going to send him an SAT prep book when I get home because they don't exactly have those around here, and he's worried about taking them. He's absurdly clever and his school sounds intense. I'm convinced he would thrive in any upper level American colellege or University.
In the afternoon I attempted to mail my first batch of postcards. The stamps were peeling off in the humidity, despite the postal worker's attempts to super glue them.... so fingers crossed. On my way home to pick up Michael I bought a few carrots for my friends. Michael and I walked over to the horses, passing a farming seminar at the college along our way. We pet the ponies for a bit, and after a few minutes the group of farmers approached us at the fence. They were a colorful bunch of all ages from all corners of Tanzania, dressed in their best for this clinic, and Michael would later tell me that they approached us because they thought we were professors from the college. They wanted us to teach them about horses! Well I didn't know that at the time, but I did teach them one thing. When my nosey stud came up to the fence to investigate the new arrivals, I quickly said to Michael, "Tell them he bites." Michael said it, and no sooner than he had finished, Mr. Nosey reached out to chomp on one of the farmers trying to pet him. It got a big laugh and I got some applause. Pretty funny.
After visiting with the horses Michael showed me a nearby spring where most of the town collects their water. It was a lush little jungle back there, covered in big beautiful trees, tangled vines, tons of snakes, choirs of birds, and the thunderous chatter of monkeys. We didn't see any yesterday, but this Saturday GSC is taking us on a day-trip safari to Arusha National Park, so I'm hoping to see some cool creatures then.
Now I'm about to head back to Tengeru on one of my beloved Daladalas. The one I took into Arusha this morning was possibly the slowest mechanized vehicle since the advent of the automobile. I will never curse the green line. Ever. Again.
That's what I get for riding on something with "Jesus Cares" painted on it. All of the Daladalas are decorated, and I have seen the funniest slogans and pictures. My personal favorite is "Pimp My Ride, Go To Church."
On my way home I'll be stopping to visit my friends and give them the last carrot I got for them. I'll be sure to say hello for you. :-)
I ended up going to the Polish Refugee cemetery by myself- 4pm real time can end up being 6:30pm Tanzania time, so I had come and gone by the time everyone showed up. It's tucked in way back off of the main road, but it's a beautiful space. The director wasn't there so there wasn't anyone to fill me in on the story, but I plan to go back. There were as many as 200 graves, but most were marked with Christian crosses, so I don't know if that's typical, or if missionaries handled the burials, or if Christians fled Nazi Poland, but regardless it confused me a bit. Most of the people lasted only a few years- probably Malaria- but some lived well into the 60s and two made it into the 21st century. When I get the whole story I'll post it because it is lost on me.
In other news, deceased Polish war refugees led me to my two best friends in Tanzania!
Yup. I finally found horses.
A very friendly mare and a gorgeous but mannerless stud live at the agriculture college's animal husbandry and care compound. I'll admit I squealed when I saw them. There are literally thousands of sheep, goats, and cows here, but these are the only horses I have seen (thank goodness, otherwise they would be food!)
They live on the way to the cemetery so on my way home from there I stopped at their fence and called to them. Well, wouldn't you know it, horse language it international because they came right over and gladly had me scritch their ears and withers, and play with their noses. A group of kids came by and were very confused by my interest in the horses. I think they were kind of afraid of them- and rightfully so, since those big brown creatures are pretty novel to the area. They made a lot of noise and my friends (the ponies) decided to bail, but once all the people had dispersed I called them again and they came back.
It made me remember why I love horses. It's not that I had forgotten to love them, I just forgot about why. Horses, many animals, are therapeutic. They don't care what you're wearing or how you did on your math test. They won't call you 'mzungu', or ask you for money, or laugh at your makeshift swahili. Animals care how you treat them, not who you are. It may sound like I'm being hard on Tanzanians, but in reality people are just hard on people. I like the people here, I just happen to love these horses.
I've found the same thing with dogs. People here don't feed their dogs, they're busy enough keeping themselves fed. Remember that poverty and unemployment are rampant in east Africa, as in much of the world. These dogs aren't pets. They are guard dogs, they are not fixed, and they are hungry and itchy. Dogs are everywhere but for the most part people are afraid of dogs and dogs are afraid of people. I've befriended the dogs near my homestay and they LOVE me. They were afraid of me at first, but now they wait in the driveway for me to come home, I scratch their ears and pull off a few bugs, and their tails wag, and wag, and wag.
Great guard dogs, eh?
Yes, the animal relationships here are very interesting. For example, it's been very tricky to explain vegetarianism. Things like "buying local" and "free range" and "animal rights" are tough for many Tanzanians to conceptualize. All meat is local! All chickens are free range! No cows are fed grain or meat, and no animals are stuffed into overcrowded, unsanitary pens. Meat is expensive, so they don't eat very much of it. It's prized even though the animals aren't exactly in prime condition. I won't pretend to know the situation of every animal on the continent, but around here they see vegetarianism as being overly sensitive or something. For the most part they can't picture mass production of food. The title of this entry is the name of a book by Barbara Kingsolver about eating locally in the U.S. One of the GSC coordinators is going to lend it to me.
Monday was the end of Ramadan, so we had the day off from GSC and instead I went with my homestay Mama and "brother" Michael to visit their extended family in a village at the base of Kilimanjaro. The ride out there brought the term "off roading" into a funny sort of light, since technically they were roads. It was beautiful out there. The staple food for the region is bananas so the whole area sways to the shade of the banana trees, and we had a cooked banana stew for lunch- not bad! They don't get many foreigners out there since it's off the beaten tourist track. I had a fan club of kids who spent the day hiding behind nearby trees and giggling, and one older man asked Michael in all seriousness if he had brought home his fiancee from Dar es Salaam. We finished our time there visiting with some of their cousins, some of whom are bicycle mechanics. I flipped when I saw a bike made entirely of wood and a few nails. I asked the kids to ride it for me so I could take pictures. At first they were very shy, but once I showed them the video feature on my digital camera the driveway turned into the set of Tanzania's Funniest Home Videos. They were hysterical! All in all it was a pretty great day. I've been really lucky to have a homestay family that includes me in things like that. It was a place I wouldn't have seen otherwise.
Tuesday morning Michael and I played card games. He taught me "One Card" which is essentially Uno but with different rules, and I taught him Spit, which he picked up very quickly. We listened to all different kinds of African music- gospel from South Africa, Hip Hop from Kenya, traditional tribal from Mozambique. I'm really excited to burn a few CD's. He told me all about his uber strict boarding school in Dar. It's a "seminary" run by Turks where the students are forbidden to have cell phones, play cards, listen to music, or talk about girls. When I asked him if he knew it was like that before he went, he laughed and said he never would have gone so it's better that he didn't know. Michael wants to be a doctor and he's got his heart set on going to the U.S. for college. I'm going to send him an SAT prep book when I get home because they don't exactly have those around here, and he's worried about taking them. He's absurdly clever and his school sounds intense. I'm convinced he would thrive in any upper level American colellege or University.
In the afternoon I attempted to mail my first batch of postcards. The stamps were peeling off in the humidity, despite the postal worker's attempts to super glue them.... so fingers crossed. On my way home to pick up Michael I bought a few carrots for my friends. Michael and I walked over to the horses, passing a farming seminar at the college along our way. We pet the ponies for a bit, and after a few minutes the group of farmers approached us at the fence. They were a colorful bunch of all ages from all corners of Tanzania, dressed in their best for this clinic, and Michael would later tell me that they approached us because they thought we were professors from the college. They wanted us to teach them about horses! Well I didn't know that at the time, but I did teach them one thing. When my nosey stud came up to the fence to investigate the new arrivals, I quickly said to Michael, "Tell them he bites." Michael said it, and no sooner than he had finished, Mr. Nosey reached out to chomp on one of the farmers trying to pet him. It got a big laugh and I got some applause. Pretty funny.
After visiting with the horses Michael showed me a nearby spring where most of the town collects their water. It was a lush little jungle back there, covered in big beautiful trees, tangled vines, tons of snakes, choirs of birds, and the thunderous chatter of monkeys. We didn't see any yesterday, but this Saturday GSC is taking us on a day-trip safari to Arusha National Park, so I'm hoping to see some cool creatures then.
Now I'm about to head back to Tengeru on one of my beloved Daladalas. The one I took into Arusha this morning was possibly the slowest mechanized vehicle since the advent of the automobile. I will never curse the green line. Ever. Again.
That's what I get for riding on something with "Jesus Cares" painted on it. All of the Daladalas are decorated, and I have seen the funniest slogans and pictures. My personal favorite is "Pimp My Ride, Go To Church."
On my way home I'll be stopping to visit my friends and give them the last carrot I got for them. I'll be sure to say hello for you. :-)
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Blessing the Rains Down in Africa
Gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
there's nothin that a hundred men or more could ever do
I blessed the rains down in Africa
As you may or may not know, East Africa has been in a horrific drought. There was hardly any rain during what would have been the long rainy season, so I can hardly complain that I spent most of the day walking around in the rain. Besides, I've really wanted to say I bless the rains down in Africa (thank you, Toto.)
While walking around town yesterday, I slipped and my left foot went squashing into what I am pretending was mud. GAH. I sloshed a few steps wondering what to do until I remembered my Klean Kanteen in my bag, and sat down on some steps to try and do damage control. Before I had fully situated myself on the steps two Tanzanian men swooped in with a bowl of water and a sponge. I sat there dumbstruck as they washed my flip flop, and in failing swahili attempted to protest when they cleaned my foot. I realized that not only were they not going to stop, but that I didn't really want to spend the rest of the day with my foot like that. So I gave up, waited for them to finish, handed them a few bills, and walked away as quickly as possible from what I hope will be my only public foot washing in my lifetime. Hmm...
That is one thing I have learned about Tanzania: she provides.
Twice now when I've gotten really down on not knowing anyone, I've bumped into this random college student named Joseph who I first met when he visited the GSC demo plot on his college orientation last week. I just looked up Saint Joseph on google out of curiosity and he is the patron saint of (among other things) the New World and workers. Well I'm definitely in a new world, and it sometimes feels like work. Joseph's a pretty funny guy. I told him to never call anyone mzungu.
Yesterday, after Joseph and I split paths, I got frustrated with not knowing much Swahili. You see, everyone here wants two things: 1) To help me learn or chide me into learning Kiswahili, and 2) To practice their English if they know any. Every day "you should learn Swahili!" and every day "Believe me, I'm trying!" And it is getting better, but it IS frustrating. So I was thinking this over, beating myself up a bit (because obviously that's going to help, right?) when I ran into Nemma (sp?) a little ways from home. She took my hand and we walked together, laughing at our lacking communication, she carried a broken flip flop in her other hand. Then she started naming things in Swahili and had me say it back in English. Vundi... dust. Mawi... rock. Kitali... shoe. When we got home she said something along the lines of "little by little" and she was right.
It can be exhausting to live here.
Little things you take for granted at home like knowing the language, easy access to safe water, trash cans. That's a big thing for me. Littering isn't even a concept, it's just how things work. It's beautiful land covered in little bits of trash. Normally I pick things up and put them in my pocket for later disposal, but here? Here I wince and try to look away. I sleep a LOT. Eight hours bare minimum, and sometimes as much as 12hrs a night. It takes a lot of energy to just "be."
This afternoon I'm going with a few of the other GSC interns to visit, of all things in all places, a cemetery for WWII Polish refugees in the village of Tengeru where I'm living. Random, eh?
What I'm really enjoying in my downtime (in between swahili study sessions) is reading a book by Dr. Paul Farmer called Pathologies of Power. It's all about the political economy of public health and it's very well researched and written. The other day Senais, a Tanzanian intern for GSC, asked me what I want to do after school. I said I want to make Public Health more like health for the public, restructure policies and such. His response, "That's all? Policy?" I was baffled and said "That's all?! That's everything!" And I really believe that.
Public health isn't a doctor's office. It's roads, public transportation, safe water, waste management, sex ed, women's empowerment, education, bridging political divides. I've already learned more in one week of GSC than an entire semester of classes. I'm so excited to carry on with this for the next two months and I'm estatic that I'll get to go to Geneva in January.
Okay, time to walk up for the daladala- a little toyota motorbus that they squeeze at least 15 people into to get in and out of town. They love overcharging me so I've started handing exact coins instead of expecting change.
Life is beautiful. Don't forget.
there's nothin that a hundred men or more could ever do
I blessed the rains down in Africa
As you may or may not know, East Africa has been in a horrific drought. There was hardly any rain during what would have been the long rainy season, so I can hardly complain that I spent most of the day walking around in the rain. Besides, I've really wanted to say I bless the rains down in Africa (thank you, Toto.)
While walking around town yesterday, I slipped and my left foot went squashing into what I am pretending was mud. GAH. I sloshed a few steps wondering what to do until I remembered my Klean Kanteen in my bag, and sat down on some steps to try and do damage control. Before I had fully situated myself on the steps two Tanzanian men swooped in with a bowl of water and a sponge. I sat there dumbstruck as they washed my flip flop, and in failing swahili attempted to protest when they cleaned my foot. I realized that not only were they not going to stop, but that I didn't really want to spend the rest of the day with my foot like that. So I gave up, waited for them to finish, handed them a few bills, and walked away as quickly as possible from what I hope will be my only public foot washing in my lifetime. Hmm...
That is one thing I have learned about Tanzania: she provides.
Twice now when I've gotten really down on not knowing anyone, I've bumped into this random college student named Joseph who I first met when he visited the GSC demo plot on his college orientation last week. I just looked up Saint Joseph on google out of curiosity and he is the patron saint of (among other things) the New World and workers. Well I'm definitely in a new world, and it sometimes feels like work. Joseph's a pretty funny guy. I told him to never call anyone mzungu.
Yesterday, after Joseph and I split paths, I got frustrated with not knowing much Swahili. You see, everyone here wants two things: 1) To help me learn or chide me into learning Kiswahili, and 2) To practice their English if they know any. Every day "you should learn Swahili!" and every day "Believe me, I'm trying!" And it is getting better, but it IS frustrating. So I was thinking this over, beating myself up a bit (because obviously that's going to help, right?) when I ran into Nemma (sp?) a little ways from home. She took my hand and we walked together, laughing at our lacking communication, she carried a broken flip flop in her other hand. Then she started naming things in Swahili and had me say it back in English. Vundi... dust. Mawi... rock. Kitali... shoe. When we got home she said something along the lines of "little by little" and she was right.
It can be exhausting to live here.
Little things you take for granted at home like knowing the language, easy access to safe water, trash cans. That's a big thing for me. Littering isn't even a concept, it's just how things work. It's beautiful land covered in little bits of trash. Normally I pick things up and put them in my pocket for later disposal, but here? Here I wince and try to look away. I sleep a LOT. Eight hours bare minimum, and sometimes as much as 12hrs a night. It takes a lot of energy to just "be."
This afternoon I'm going with a few of the other GSC interns to visit, of all things in all places, a cemetery for WWII Polish refugees in the village of Tengeru where I'm living. Random, eh?
What I'm really enjoying in my downtime (in between swahili study sessions) is reading a book by Dr. Paul Farmer called Pathologies of Power. It's all about the political economy of public health and it's very well researched and written. The other day Senais, a Tanzanian intern for GSC, asked me what I want to do after school. I said I want to make Public Health more like health for the public, restructure policies and such. His response, "That's all? Policy?" I was baffled and said "That's all?! That's everything!" And I really believe that.
Public health isn't a doctor's office. It's roads, public transportation, safe water, waste management, sex ed, women's empowerment, education, bridging political divides. I've already learned more in one week of GSC than an entire semester of classes. I'm so excited to carry on with this for the next two months and I'm estatic that I'll get to go to Geneva in January.
Okay, time to walk up for the daladala- a little toyota motorbus that they squeeze at least 15 people into to get in and out of town. They love overcharging me so I've started handing exact coins instead of expecting change.
Life is beautiful. Don't forget.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Mzungu, Mzungu, Mzungu!
Back again in the "Hot Bread Shop" a safe haven of yummy food and computer access in Arusha. I moved into my homestay a few days ago in the nearby township of Tengeru and spent my days there learning the foundation of Bio-Intensive Agriculture.
It's FASCINATING! Tanzanian experts (some speaking English and some who don't) have been working with GSC for decades, promoting these strategies of compost preparation, urban gardening, and revolutionizing poor or overused soil through compost, organic pest management, and crop rotation. It's all so easy, so much better for the land, much healthier for the people, provides more efficient yields for market sales, and it's just REALLY interesting! We've had classroom time, and practical time in the garden, learning everything from the chemistry dynamics of nutrient rich soil to the best time of day to plant certain vegetables. It's given me so many ideas for other projects- including the Michigania compost program and future vegetable garden! I love dirt.
bugs birds moo cow crow buzzzzzzzz
This really isn't fair to say so early in the game, but this is really my only chance to say it, so I'm going to:
I don't like homestays.
I know, I know, I've been in one for four days, give it time lalala. Meh. My homestay Mama is lovely, the house girl Naima (sp?) is lovely, the house is beautiful, I have a real toilet. Lovely, lovely, lovely.
None of that changes the fact that I'm living in someone else's HOUSE.
This was the bit I was most apprehensive about when I signed on for this, because the whole concept sounded terrifying from the start. I came into it with my mind pryed open, and I'm still trying to breathe and adjust.... it's just awkward.
My homestay Mama is fantastic. She's a very intense woman and I wouldn't dare cross her, but she's very sweet and has had many interns stay with her before so she's used to our Americanisms. She has a good job with the government working at the Integrated Pest Management division of the Ministry of Agriculture- located right in Tengeru along with the Agriculture college. She is always in fashion and is always relieved when I clean myself out of my gardening clothes and put on a skirt, haha. Her children are away at boarding school, so it's just me, Mama, and the housegirl. Naima is my constant motivation for getting better at swahili because she doesn't speak any English. We laugh at each other as we try to communicate... usually giving up with a smile.
Sidenote: I just met someone from Cambridge and someone else who goes to Harvard. The world is oh so small.
I'm lonely.
Life here is fabulous, it's just early, and I don't speak the language, and the only other volunteers in my program are essentially married. At least 10x a day I ask myself: why I didn't go to one of the 20 developing countries that speak Spanish, where I could do essentially the same work while being able to communicate? True as that may be, my frustration becomes motivation for learning Swahili- a language I've wanted to learn for years- and a reminder that I don't believe in comfort zones. If this was going to be easy I wouldn't have come.
I'm homesick, or campsick, or Englighsick, or something. But I'm learning, and I'm happy, and I have to remind myself that I JUST GOT HERE. haha.
The title of this entry is "mzungu." Mzungu is my new least favorite word. It means "white person." Let me tell you a story: Once upon a time a white person came to Tanzania and gave everyone money, soda, and pens and said "whenever you see a white person, yell MZUNGU!" That is the only explanation I can muster for why people do it all the time. Okay, not really. I get it on some level, it's just obnoxious. It's like: Thank you ever so much for reminding me that I am one of four white people in at least 10 square miles, and that I can't really communicate with you that confidently yet. Ciao.
This has been my strategy for combating the deadly WGS (white girl syndrome)
--when someone says "Mzungu!" I point back and say "Mtanzania!"
--when someone asks me for money I ask THEM for money
--introduce myself as much as possible so that I'm not just a random Mzungu
--study my swahili notes... every spare moment
Super Useful Phrases:
--Mimi si mtali (I am not a tourist)
--Sielewi (I don't understand)
And now for storytime.
In fair Tengeru where we lay our scene, a group of Tanzanian and American interns went with their instructor to a restaurant for lunch. Upon hearing the prices for a plate of rice and beans the (white) instructor got angry and insisted that we were being had because we looked like tourists, and demanded a more reasonable price. The waiter went to talk with the manager, the coordinator went to talk with the manager, and from there it got very awkward and very ugly. In a few quick minutes the manager and coordinator came to thinly veiled verbal blows, with the coordinator insisting the prices were racially based and the manager taking offense at the accusation. We were asked to leave. If you want my opinion, I would be happy to give it to you first hand, but I'm not about to plaster it on the internet. It was highly unfortunate to say the least. Today I went to get the manager's phone number, and I'll be calling her later today to talk.
Another story!
On a far lighter note, my homestay mama brought me with her to a wedding reception the other night. I was exhausted and on top of that the Mamas kept filling my wine glass. Finally, as I was about to nod off to sleep, I figured out that I should leave the glass partially full so they wouldn't feel inclined to fill it. They encouraged me to have more, asked what was wrong with it, etc etc and I did my best to smile and asante sana them- Mamas here are forever trying to fatten you up.
After a while of waiting and watching and not understanding 95% of what was being said, I snapped back into things when I realized that I heard "mzungu" and when I looked up about 100 people were looking at me. My homestay Mama leaned in and told me that the mzungu would now accept a bit of the roasted goat that had just been wheeled in.
SO.
I walked up to the front of the hall and in front of 100 local Tengerus and a video camera the bride and groom fed me goat meat of a tooth pick which I accepted "on behalf of all woman kind."
WHAT?
It was a huge honor dispensed readily and undeservingly onto me, simply because I was so clearly a visitor. A hilarious story that I'll treasure forever, but isn't that just... odd?
You would think after all of the trouble Wazungu have caused from the slave trade, to colonialism, to mineral extraction, to IMF and WTO restructuring programs.... after ALL THAT, you would think I would get run out of the village not honored with the first bit of goat meat.
Well, it was pretty damn cool, I'll give it that.
Allrighty then. My computer minutes are about to run out so I'll finish up by saying that about an hour ago I got an email saying I got into the BU Public Health Internship/Study Abroad Program in Geneva, Switzerland for next semester! Huzzah!!!! Looks like the blog will be going all year :-)
Also, I'm terribly sorry about the phone troubles. I had to get a new phone with a new number. It is as follows (country code etc etc is already applied, so this should work as is from the US)
011 255 759 540 712
It's pretty early where most of you are so have a great day stateside or wherever else you may be!
It's FASCINATING! Tanzanian experts (some speaking English and some who don't) have been working with GSC for decades, promoting these strategies of compost preparation, urban gardening, and revolutionizing poor or overused soil through compost, organic pest management, and crop rotation. It's all so easy, so much better for the land, much healthier for the people, provides more efficient yields for market sales, and it's just REALLY interesting! We've had classroom time, and practical time in the garden, learning everything from the chemistry dynamics of nutrient rich soil to the best time of day to plant certain vegetables. It's given me so many ideas for other projects- including the Michigania compost program and future vegetable garden! I love dirt.
bugs birds moo cow crow buzzzzzzzz
This really isn't fair to say so early in the game, but this is really my only chance to say it, so I'm going to:
I don't like homestays.
I know, I know, I've been in one for four days, give it time lalala. Meh. My homestay Mama is lovely, the house girl Naima (sp?) is lovely, the house is beautiful, I have a real toilet. Lovely, lovely, lovely.
None of that changes the fact that I'm living in someone else's HOUSE.
This was the bit I was most apprehensive about when I signed on for this, because the whole concept sounded terrifying from the start. I came into it with my mind pryed open, and I'm still trying to breathe and adjust.... it's just awkward.
My homestay Mama is fantastic. She's a very intense woman and I wouldn't dare cross her, but she's very sweet and has had many interns stay with her before so she's used to our Americanisms. She has a good job with the government working at the Integrated Pest Management division of the Ministry of Agriculture- located right in Tengeru along with the Agriculture college. She is always in fashion and is always relieved when I clean myself out of my gardening clothes and put on a skirt, haha. Her children are away at boarding school, so it's just me, Mama, and the housegirl. Naima is my constant motivation for getting better at swahili because she doesn't speak any English. We laugh at each other as we try to communicate... usually giving up with a smile.
Sidenote: I just met someone from Cambridge and someone else who goes to Harvard. The world is oh so small.
I'm lonely.
Life here is fabulous, it's just early, and I don't speak the language, and the only other volunteers in my program are essentially married. At least 10x a day I ask myself: why I didn't go to one of the 20 developing countries that speak Spanish, where I could do essentially the same work while being able to communicate? True as that may be, my frustration becomes motivation for learning Swahili- a language I've wanted to learn for years- and a reminder that I don't believe in comfort zones. If this was going to be easy I wouldn't have come.
I'm homesick, or campsick, or Englighsick, or something. But I'm learning, and I'm happy, and I have to remind myself that I JUST GOT HERE. haha.
The title of this entry is "mzungu." Mzungu is my new least favorite word. It means "white person." Let me tell you a story: Once upon a time a white person came to Tanzania and gave everyone money, soda, and pens and said "whenever you see a white person, yell MZUNGU!" That is the only explanation I can muster for why people do it all the time. Okay, not really. I get it on some level, it's just obnoxious. It's like: Thank you ever so much for reminding me that I am one of four white people in at least 10 square miles, and that I can't really communicate with you that confidently yet. Ciao.
This has been my strategy for combating the deadly WGS (white girl syndrome)
--when someone says "Mzungu!" I point back and say "Mtanzania!"
--when someone asks me for money I ask THEM for money
--introduce myself as much as possible so that I'm not just a random Mzungu
--study my swahili notes... every spare moment
Super Useful Phrases:
--Mimi si mtali (I am not a tourist)
--Sielewi (I don't understand)
And now for storytime.
In fair Tengeru where we lay our scene, a group of Tanzanian and American interns went with their instructor to a restaurant for lunch. Upon hearing the prices for a plate of rice and beans the (white) instructor got angry and insisted that we were being had because we looked like tourists, and demanded a more reasonable price. The waiter went to talk with the manager, the coordinator went to talk with the manager, and from there it got very awkward and very ugly. In a few quick minutes the manager and coordinator came to thinly veiled verbal blows, with the coordinator insisting the prices were racially based and the manager taking offense at the accusation. We were asked to leave. If you want my opinion, I would be happy to give it to you first hand, but I'm not about to plaster it on the internet. It was highly unfortunate to say the least. Today I went to get the manager's phone number, and I'll be calling her later today to talk.
Another story!
On a far lighter note, my homestay mama brought me with her to a wedding reception the other night. I was exhausted and on top of that the Mamas kept filling my wine glass. Finally, as I was about to nod off to sleep, I figured out that I should leave the glass partially full so they wouldn't feel inclined to fill it. They encouraged me to have more, asked what was wrong with it, etc etc and I did my best to smile and asante sana them- Mamas here are forever trying to fatten you up.
After a while of waiting and watching and not understanding 95% of what was being said, I snapped back into things when I realized that I heard "mzungu" and when I looked up about 100 people were looking at me. My homestay Mama leaned in and told me that the mzungu would now accept a bit of the roasted goat that had just been wheeled in.
SO.
I walked up to the front of the hall and in front of 100 local Tengerus and a video camera the bride and groom fed me goat meat of a tooth pick which I accepted "on behalf of all woman kind."
WHAT?
It was a huge honor dispensed readily and undeservingly onto me, simply because I was so clearly a visitor. A hilarious story that I'll treasure forever, but isn't that just... odd?
You would think after all of the trouble Wazungu have caused from the slave trade, to colonialism, to mineral extraction, to IMF and WTO restructuring programs.... after ALL THAT, you would think I would get run out of the village not honored with the first bit of goat meat.
Well, it was pretty damn cool, I'll give it that.
Allrighty then. My computer minutes are about to run out so I'll finish up by saying that about an hour ago I got an email saying I got into the BU Public Health Internship/Study Abroad Program in Geneva, Switzerland for next semester! Huzzah!!!! Looks like the blog will be going all year :-)
Also, I'm terribly sorry about the phone troubles. I had to get a new phone with a new number. It is as follows (country code etc etc is already applied, so this should work as is from the US)
011 255 759 540 712
It's pretty early where most of you are so have a great day stateside or wherever else you may be!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Africa is okay, I guess...
JUST KIDDING!
I am completely in love with this life I am living. The country and countrymen and women are beautiful, kind, and hilarious. The trees, flowers, and birds are intoxicating. The breeze is warm and the people are friendly.
The strangest thing about being in Africa... is that it doesn't necessarily feel like I'm in Africa. You might guess (as I sort of did) that being here would "feel" like being here. On some level I would assume that I would feel far removed, even isolated- maybe like I was missing out from the bigger picture in some ways. On the CONTRARY. Being here- if only for a few days so far- I have been reassured that wherever you are feels like the center of things, and your reality is what you accept it to be. Cliche, corny, blah blah blah but striking and authentic as well. Seriously though, you wouldn't know this to be Africa.... except for the monkeys, banana trees, daladalas, swahili, and the fact that I'm frequently the only white person on a long busy road. Had I mentioned the monkeys? We saw two before I had been here 12 hours! And there's a banana tree at the gate of our hostel!
I still haven't slept through the night, and I have learned to judge my early morning wake up time based on what I hear outside. We have learned that the dark-thirty a.m. singing is part of the tail end of Ramadan (it ends on Monday/Tuesday)
Today was my second day of orientation with Global Service Corps but I feel like I've been there for at least a week. They do phenomenal work and the people I have met so far are all so unique yet sincerely kindred.
I can admit, I was worried.
The night and morning before meeting up with GSC for training my brain started to ramble a bit. I got back to my old "Who am I to do any of this?" narrative and I was prepared to ask to switch assignments if I was asked to "help" in supremely ignorant ways. Turns out, I did my research well, because they are a great program. My impression is that a lot of places just drop "volunteers" like toy army men with parachutes, without much context or training. Thankfully, that's not the case here.
Yesterday we were introduced to the staff, given an overview of the projects, a tour of the city, and a two hour swahili lesson. Today we started the morning by meeting the most incredible woman you could imagine. She is a woman living with HIV who has no "job" but spends all of her days meeting with HIV positive groups and individuals about using nutrition to boost their immune systems and stay healthier for longer. She is paid nothing, lives on next to nothing, and redistributes any charity she is given. She was our first lesson.
The things she told us would crack your heart in two, and after she left I stared into my reflection in my tea cup for a while. What a lady, what hope. One of the other interns is a filmmaker and she's hoping to interview Mama Betty, so hopefully I'll get to see her again.
Our second lesson of the day was a brief history of Tanzania, given by the in-country director who happens to be a UVM grad from the 70s.
We sat at a long table for a beautiful outdoor lunch by the main road. Laughing, talking, eating. Have you ever had soured milk? Ummm....
After lunch we met with the leader of Women In Action, a women's empowerment group that gives sex education, raises awareness about gender violence, and combats the recently outlawed female genital mutilation by working with the male leaders of tribes, families, and church groups. Outstanding.
Then we had more Swahili lessons and now I'm about to go for dinner with the program- the best pizza in Tanzania they tell us... oh boy. Haha.
All in all I am thrilled beyond words to be here. And everything changes tomorrow! Tomorrow we move out of Arusha to live with our homestay families in Kerungu (sp?) I will spend the rest of this week learning about vaccinating chickens for New Castles' disease, bio-intensive agriculture, water storage, integrated pest management, and more more more! I'm nervous as all hell to move into the homestay, but I'm sure it will be as great as they say.
SO. Here's something new:
Because I'll be switching off between camping out in the bush and living in my homestay, I'll most likely only have internet on the weekends when I come into town, or on an evening when I come in to Arusha for dinner or something. I can still get mail at the address I listed...
AND (drumroll pleeeeaaase.....)
I have a cell phone! I think texts are fairly cheap, and calls might not be so bad either. If you want to give it a go my number is 0755213144
Keep in mind there's a 7 hour time difference!
Okay, then! I'm off to dinner and hoping that you are having a fabulous morning! :-)
<3
I am completely in love with this life I am living. The country and countrymen and women are beautiful, kind, and hilarious. The trees, flowers, and birds are intoxicating. The breeze is warm and the people are friendly.
The strangest thing about being in Africa... is that it doesn't necessarily feel like I'm in Africa. You might guess (as I sort of did) that being here would "feel" like being here. On some level I would assume that I would feel far removed, even isolated- maybe like I was missing out from the bigger picture in some ways. On the CONTRARY. Being here- if only for a few days so far- I have been reassured that wherever you are feels like the center of things, and your reality is what you accept it to be. Cliche, corny, blah blah blah but striking and authentic as well. Seriously though, you wouldn't know this to be Africa.... except for the monkeys, banana trees, daladalas, swahili, and the fact that I'm frequently the only white person on a long busy road. Had I mentioned the monkeys? We saw two before I had been here 12 hours! And there's a banana tree at the gate of our hostel!
I still haven't slept through the night, and I have learned to judge my early morning wake up time based on what I hear outside. We have learned that the dark-thirty a.m. singing is part of the tail end of Ramadan (it ends on Monday/Tuesday)
Today was my second day of orientation with Global Service Corps but I feel like I've been there for at least a week. They do phenomenal work and the people I have met so far are all so unique yet sincerely kindred.
I can admit, I was worried.
The night and morning before meeting up with GSC for training my brain started to ramble a bit. I got back to my old "Who am I to do any of this?" narrative and I was prepared to ask to switch assignments if I was asked to "help" in supremely ignorant ways. Turns out, I did my research well, because they are a great program. My impression is that a lot of places just drop "volunteers" like toy army men with parachutes, without much context or training. Thankfully, that's not the case here.
Yesterday we were introduced to the staff, given an overview of the projects, a tour of the city, and a two hour swahili lesson. Today we started the morning by meeting the most incredible woman you could imagine. She is a woman living with HIV who has no "job" but spends all of her days meeting with HIV positive groups and individuals about using nutrition to boost their immune systems and stay healthier for longer. She is paid nothing, lives on next to nothing, and redistributes any charity she is given. She was our first lesson.
The things she told us would crack your heart in two, and after she left I stared into my reflection in my tea cup for a while. What a lady, what hope. One of the other interns is a filmmaker and she's hoping to interview Mama Betty, so hopefully I'll get to see her again.
Our second lesson of the day was a brief history of Tanzania, given by the in-country director who happens to be a UVM grad from the 70s.
We sat at a long table for a beautiful outdoor lunch by the main road. Laughing, talking, eating. Have you ever had soured milk? Ummm....
After lunch we met with the leader of Women In Action, a women's empowerment group that gives sex education, raises awareness about gender violence, and combats the recently outlawed female genital mutilation by working with the male leaders of tribes, families, and church groups. Outstanding.
Then we had more Swahili lessons and now I'm about to go for dinner with the program- the best pizza in Tanzania they tell us... oh boy. Haha.
All in all I am thrilled beyond words to be here. And everything changes tomorrow! Tomorrow we move out of Arusha to live with our homestay families in Kerungu (sp?) I will spend the rest of this week learning about vaccinating chickens for New Castles' disease, bio-intensive agriculture, water storage, integrated pest management, and more more more! I'm nervous as all hell to move into the homestay, but I'm sure it will be as great as they say.
SO. Here's something new:
Because I'll be switching off between camping out in the bush and living in my homestay, I'll most likely only have internet on the weekends when I come into town, or on an evening when I come in to Arusha for dinner or something. I can still get mail at the address I listed...
AND (drumroll pleeeeaaase.....)
I have a cell phone! I think texts are fairly cheap, and calls might not be so bad either. If you want to give it a go my number is 0755213144
Keep in mind there's a 7 hour time difference!
Okay, then! I'm off to dinner and hoping that you are having a fabulous morning! :-)
<3
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Mambo!
Hello Hello from Arusha, Tanzania!
I got here Saturday night around 9pm TZ time (that's 7 hours ahead of EST) and didn't sleep much last night. I'll be moving into a homestay in a few days but for now I'm living in a hostel with two other program members, and we have a computer lab- I think the internet service is better than the Ed Center at camp. No joke. Ohh Michigania. You are who and what I miss when I lay awake under my mosquito netting. Awww.
So now I'm here, thousands of miles away from Walloon, A2, Boston, or Hingham. I had just a few days to get ready and no time to prepare, but here I am.
The scariest thing about leaving (as I told Alex when I visited him at school on Thursday) is worrying that something bad will happen while I'm away. That might be a weird fear considering the circumstances, but it's true. Saying it out loud helped. His hugs helped too.
The hardest thing about leaving was knowing that I wouldn't be in easy contact with people for a while. I'm a voice person. I miss hearing everyone and seeing the way their faces move and react when they talk.
The easiest thing about leaving was... everything else. Well, no, that's a lie. I did manage to lose my wallet an hour before leavnig the house, and I forgot my Typhoid meds in the fridge so we got to the Quincy bridge and had to turn back. Other than that I'm feeling pretty damn good. I was oddly comfortable with leaving, and even stranger... I don't mind being here and not knowing anyone. But that's getting ahead of myself.
Let me back up.
Amsterdam.
When I landed in Amsterdam I was immediately overwhelmed by where I was. I was tempted to run out of the airport and explore, then run off and meet Emma in Berlin. It got me really excited for the prospect of spending next semester in Switzerland! Fingers crossed...
It happened in line.
We were in a long winding line waiting to get our bags screened again before boarding. I started looking through the crowd. African men in business suits, women in what looked like saris, and a random assortment of white folk. I overheard a short dude with long curly hair pulled into a pony tail chat up a hiker lady about how he leads treks up Kili. My ears perked up at the word ''crampons.'' (I really gotta climb that...) I kept looking. Empty nester couples in fancy hiking clothes, college kids from Spain, and at least a dozen people wearing t-shirts emblazoned with the names of various volunteer organizations that I had come across in search of my own.
And I thought- ''What the hell are we all doing?''
That was NOT the first time I had thought this while pulling together my travel plans. I have tried to be very clear with myself and others that this is a learning experience, not a volunteer endeavor. I'm not bustin' on over here to 'save the natives!' The probably won't know one way or another that I'm here (''they'' being the population of Arusha, Tanzania, or the African continent for that matter.) Technically, yes, I am teaching. But in reality, I'm here to learn. I believe in public health and in public service. I'm here because water and waste management, gender issues, food security, and environmental justice and degradation are interesting and important to me. I want to know as much about them on a global scale as I possibly can. Who am I to tell a farmer how to do his job? I might have access to more information, but not to instant authority or even respect. If I can convince a few boys and girls that it's worth it to use a condom or at least get tested... that would be a huge success. A bonus, really, on top of this enormous gift-wrapped opportunity.
The first thing I did in Tanzania was lie.
We were greeted on the Kilimanjaro Airport tarmac with health forms about swine flu. They wanted our name, travel history and plan, passport number, and any symptoms. I've had a cough since the end of 10th week at camp, but I knew it would be better to check the 'NO' box to avoid any problems. I fully expected to launch into a coughing fit when I handed it over, but there were no problems and before I knew it I was half asleep in the back of a shuttle bus on the way to Arusha.
You know those mice movies with Fifel? The first one's called American Tail and it has this really cheesy song about being under the same sky. Well, corny as it may be (very) I felt pretty good about things as I looked out the shuttle window and saw them shining down. Never too far from home, I guess.
When I got to the hostel they told me three things.
-the dogs are guard dogs, do not pet them (I could practically hear Alex and my Dad laughing at me)
-don't go outside at night
-do not open your door
Well, cool then, sounds cozy!
I hardly slept at all last night. Around 3am a very confused rooster started crowing. By 4am I hear beautiful wailing chants and songs- we're still trying to figure out what from. By 5am I heard the most AMAZING bird calls. I think Donn Resnick and Mrs. Williams would have fallen over with joy. By the time the sun rose at 6:15 I was more than ready to get going.
AND now I'm being kicked off the computer so I guess I'll add more soon!
I got here Saturday night around 9pm TZ time (that's 7 hours ahead of EST) and didn't sleep much last night. I'll be moving into a homestay in a few days but for now I'm living in a hostel with two other program members, and we have a computer lab- I think the internet service is better than the Ed Center at camp. No joke. Ohh Michigania. You are who and what I miss when I lay awake under my mosquito netting. Awww.
So now I'm here, thousands of miles away from Walloon, A2, Boston, or Hingham. I had just a few days to get ready and no time to prepare, but here I am.
The scariest thing about leaving (as I told Alex when I visited him at school on Thursday) is worrying that something bad will happen while I'm away. That might be a weird fear considering the circumstances, but it's true. Saying it out loud helped. His hugs helped too.
The hardest thing about leaving was knowing that I wouldn't be in easy contact with people for a while. I'm a voice person. I miss hearing everyone and seeing the way their faces move and react when they talk.
The easiest thing about leaving was... everything else. Well, no, that's a lie. I did manage to lose my wallet an hour before leavnig the house, and I forgot my Typhoid meds in the fridge so we got to the Quincy bridge and had to turn back. Other than that I'm feeling pretty damn good. I was oddly comfortable with leaving, and even stranger... I don't mind being here and not knowing anyone. But that's getting ahead of myself.
Let me back up.
Amsterdam.
When I landed in Amsterdam I was immediately overwhelmed by where I was. I was tempted to run out of the airport and explore, then run off and meet Emma in Berlin. It got me really excited for the prospect of spending next semester in Switzerland! Fingers crossed...
It happened in line.
We were in a long winding line waiting to get our bags screened again before boarding. I started looking through the crowd. African men in business suits, women in what looked like saris, and a random assortment of white folk. I overheard a short dude with long curly hair pulled into a pony tail chat up a hiker lady about how he leads treks up Kili. My ears perked up at the word ''crampons.'' (I really gotta climb that...) I kept looking. Empty nester couples in fancy hiking clothes, college kids from Spain, and at least a dozen people wearing t-shirts emblazoned with the names of various volunteer organizations that I had come across in search of my own.
And I thought- ''What the hell are we all doing?''
That was NOT the first time I had thought this while pulling together my travel plans. I have tried to be very clear with myself and others that this is a learning experience, not a volunteer endeavor. I'm not bustin' on over here to 'save the natives!' The probably won't know one way or another that I'm here (''they'' being the population of Arusha, Tanzania, or the African continent for that matter.) Technically, yes, I am teaching. But in reality, I'm here to learn. I believe in public health and in public service. I'm here because water and waste management, gender issues, food security, and environmental justice and degradation are interesting and important to me. I want to know as much about them on a global scale as I possibly can. Who am I to tell a farmer how to do his job? I might have access to more information, but not to instant authority or even respect. If I can convince a few boys and girls that it's worth it to use a condom or at least get tested... that would be a huge success. A bonus, really, on top of this enormous gift-wrapped opportunity.
The first thing I did in Tanzania was lie.
We were greeted on the Kilimanjaro Airport tarmac with health forms about swine flu. They wanted our name, travel history and plan, passport number, and any symptoms. I've had a cough since the end of 10th week at camp, but I knew it would be better to check the 'NO' box to avoid any problems. I fully expected to launch into a coughing fit when I handed it over, but there were no problems and before I knew it I was half asleep in the back of a shuttle bus on the way to Arusha.
You know those mice movies with Fifel? The first one's called American Tail and it has this really cheesy song about being under the same sky. Well, corny as it may be (very) I felt pretty good about things as I looked out the shuttle window and saw them shining down. Never too far from home, I guess.
When I got to the hostel they told me three things.
-the dogs are guard dogs, do not pet them (I could practically hear Alex and my Dad laughing at me)
-don't go outside at night
-do not open your door
Well, cool then, sounds cozy!
I hardly slept at all last night. Around 3am a very confused rooster started crowing. By 4am I hear beautiful wailing chants and songs- we're still trying to figure out what from. By 5am I heard the most AMAZING bird calls. I think Donn Resnick and Mrs. Williams would have fallen over with joy. By the time the sun rose at 6:15 I was more than ready to get going.
AND now I'm being kicked off the computer so I guess I'll add more soon!
Friday, September 11, 2009
"And in the fall I'll be running away to Tanzania..."
Well... YUP! I'm leaving for Arusha, Tanzania in about 20 minutes. My flight leaves at 7:05pm and I'll get there tomorrow. So as you might guess... I don't have much time to write at the moment!
I'm spending 10 weeks in Tanzania interning through the Global Service Corps (www.globalservicecorps.org) I'll spend a week in orientation, a month living in a tent for a sustainable agriculture program, a month living in a homestay for an HIV prevention program, and about a week traveling on my own at the end.
This isn't about school credit. This is about getting away from classrooms, and getting down and dirty with a real introduction to public health. I'll try to update this blog as much as possible and I'll be thinking of all of the loves I've left behind while I'm there. If you want to send me a letter I promise you'll get one back!
Danielle Jenkins
Global Service Corps
Plot #4 Sekei East of Golf Course
P.O. Box 16338
Arusha, Tanzania
I'm a little nervous, very excited, and on my way out the door! Oh so much love to all of you!!!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
It Just... Is.
It was another amazing summer at Michigania. How was 2009 vs 2008? They were completely different and exactly the same. I learned so much about myself and others, and will remember the people and times we had forever.
I can't really explain it so I'll stop trying. If you were a part of Michigania 2009 in any respect: Thank you.
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