Finally!

Okay, so a little money can go a loooong way. Earlier I wrote about when my project came to a standstill because the soil was contaminated. With my friend Raya’s generous donation(I just misspelled generous and wrote "generation donation"-actually an appropriate play on words since it will impact generations of people as well as the other meaning, to generate, as in to produce! I love a good play on words) I was able to purchase 600 soil bags and all the soil to go in them. This allowed me to be there to help plant the inside of the tunnel/greenhouse. Not only was it fun for me to participate but more importantly, it was exciting for the Jitihada farmer group and me to see this project to completion. It was two weeks ago that we planted these tomato plants. I only wish I could be around to watch them grow and be harvested.

It was a great last day at Kawe for me. I got to play a great game of catch with Dennis, Sylvester's middle child. I was able to actually do some physical work with the group filling the dirt with fertilizer and planting tomato seedling. I loved working with these people so very much and am incredibly proud of the work they are doing and that I got to play a small part in it.

I got some great photos too thanks to my bf Shaine. (photos courtesy of Shaine Jones Photography-except the last one, it's kind of obvious that I took that one)

Sylvester's children: William and Dennis. These kids are amazingly well behaved and sweet. I think we could learn a few things here in the west from developing nations when it comes to parenting. And in terms of material possessions; William is playing with mangoes and often Dennis is drawing in the dirt with a stick. And they are happy! Can you imagine!?!

Dennis and me after a rousing game of catch with a deflated ball. Look at all the bags of soil Raya bought!

Working hard in the tunnel planting and fertilizing. I saw one of these before I purchased this one and the tomatoes grow to the roof. Hopefully I will get photos of that from my colleagues in the future.

The Jitihada Farmers group in front of their tunnel before the drip kit was installed and bags were purchased.

Judgement

The concept of a “safe ride home” has been redefined here in Tanzania. Back in Canada, I am the person that insists on no drinking and driving. I work in a beer joint and anyone who has ever worked in a restaurant or bar knows that after work, drinks happen. I however, choose to drive to work and therefore I usually refrain from a drink or I at least limit myself to one and have been known to have Alex Wilson finish that one for me.

I am demanding when I drive. I insist that if I am driving someone that they put on a seat belt, if there are not enough seat belts then I don’t take everyone in my car.

In Dar things are much different and therefore I am much different as are my standards. When it is extremely dangerous to walk anywhere after dark, yet your sanity depends on a social life, you are often in search of a safe ride home. The rules of back home no longer apply. First off, I often take a bajaj with a driver that is a complete stranger. Who knows what he may be on, you do your best to find one who is sober but who really knows what he’s been up to earlier. Seat belts? HA! Well, there is no such thing in a Bajaj, because it is basically a tin can with a (faux) leather roof. Taxi, well, there are seat belts but they usually don’t work, and tend to be a bit scarier because they have the power to lock the doors, possibly locking you in. This is a sense of security when you know and trust the driver because it protects you from the dangers of the outside but when you don’t know him it can instill fear like never before. Add him taking a route you are unfamiliar with and you are assuming you are being taken to be mugged, raped, and maybe killed. Sorry, this is dark but it is my reality and it has been terrifying. This is not my imagination, these are things that happen here. So you take the precautions you can but so much is out of your control.

Bajaj and taxis are also hard to come by sometimes. For a demographic that needs to make any money they can, they are surprisingly selective about the hours they keep.

These are the reasons why the BEST option is to go with someone you know who is driving. Oh I love those nights. So much more relaxing. The thing with this option is that the driver is drunk. I guarantee it. They are my friends so I know. Certainly they are usually not obliterated but they have consumed far more than the legal limit. Now because of the above mentioned issues, everyone is seeking a ride with this friend who is driving. This means there are far more people in the vehicle than safety would dictate. Seat belts are definitely not an option and I have been in the boot (trunk/hatch) more than once due to my size. At the time it has been a very good option considering the alternative.

I am aware that this is an unsafe choice but given the alternatives, going with a friend who has had a few is far safer than the other options. What do I take from this realization? I suppose to be grateful that there are better options at home, that I have made it through 6 months unharmed, and to withhold judgement. Sometimes people do what they have to. Sure, it is not always the ideal choice but we are all human trying to get by and we do what we can. So when I see a family of 4 on a motorbike I no longer think "how irresponsible and unsafe", I think, "they are doing what they have to right now".


Judgement is an unkind action and incredibly arrogant. It assumes you are all-knowing. This simple act of willingly getting into a car where the driver has been drinking has opened my eyes to the fact that sometimes people do what they have to in certain circumstances. Also, I just want to point out reason number two hundred and thirty seven in the list of why Canada is amazing: I have never HAD to make this choice. There are always other, better options.

Culture break-Another Look at TZ

Okay so sometimes I love this place and sometimes it is maddeningly inefficient and disorganized. It was an adjustment for sure, but now I am pretty used to these things. So used to them that sometimes I forget how different it is than back home. Sooo, here are a few examples.


The other night I walked into the pizza place near my home. I’ve never gone there but thought it was time. The guy took my order and walked away without taking my boyfriend’s order. He wandered around, made a few phone calls and came back and said "sorry the guy who makes the pizza is not here, you cannot get pizza today".

Oh, of course, that makes sense. At a pizza place. With a neon open sign. Pleasure doing business with you Tanzania.

Leonard and his Bajaj outside my office this morning. The last time he'll take me to work. I'm going to miss seeing this guy every morning and afternoon. 

No one ever has change! Seriously, bank notes come in 500, 1000, 2000, 5000, and 10,000. When you withdraw from the bank you get 10,000 notes. When you take a Bajaj it costs around 2000 to 4000 or more if you are traveling a greater distance (but generally a dollar to 2 dollars). When you buy lunch it costs about the same. But no one has change!!!! Even the movie theatre. The other day they did not have change so they simply wrote on the receipt that change was due and to try to get it after the movie.


Dala dalas. A dala dala is what the local busses are called. They look like large vans kind of. It is the main local transport. There is no such thing as a full dala dala. They have seats for about 16 people. This means NOTHING. People will cram in until they are sitting on each other and when there is no more room they will hang out the windows. Yesterday I saw dala dala full of people at the Maasai market and some of the passengers had purchased goats. Well you need to take you purchase home right!? So I watched them load 8 goats in the dala dala as well. Just another day at the market.


A few weeks ago when we went to Bagamoyo we took the dala dala. It is incredibly inexpensive. A two hour drive is less than it costs me to take a Bajaj from my house to the grocery store. The woman sitting in front of us kept reaching behind her looking for something, we realized her live chicken was at our feet. Throughout the ride it proceeded to move around and tickle my boyfriend’s leg. But for the most part, what a well behaved chicken, it didn’t make a peep until we stopped and the woman picked it up. I guess it prefers a dala dala ride to what it knew was coming next, dinner time.


Piki Pikis. These are motorbikes. They are everywhere and are used as a source of public transportation. So when you walk by a few motorbikes they say piki piki, and I say “no way, are you crazy?”. This is because there are no helmets, they weave all over the place, and are considered extremely dangerous. Not to mention (what’s with that term? by saying not to mention, I am in fact mentioning it. hmmm) not to mention that you have no control over where they could be taking you.

What I do like about these is that they have stereos. You always hear music when a piki piki goes by.


There are so so many more but that's all for now. It's my last day of work and I must wrap up a few things. Oh I really am going to miss this place:(

Emotions

Today my emotions are out of control. I have exactly two weeks of work left and today it hit me. I am never going to be doing this again. Sure, I may get work like this again, but I will not be doing this job with these people in this country. I am dreading saying goodbye.

“You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place, I told him, like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you'll never be this way ever again.” - Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran

I have said before that funding stopped for my projects. As a result of my complainy rant in a previous post, my generous friend Raya decided to donate money to whatever I chose. I wracked my brain to find something meaningful to do with her money. I looked around for projects by other organizations as my organization essentially didn’t have anything going on so I could not spend her money here on my people. Then we encountered a problem with one of my projects. You may have read before, we purchased a tunnel (like a greenhouse) for one of my farmer groups. Trouble is, well there have been many, but one of the big problems now is that the soil inside the tunnel is contaminated. The solution: to treat it with chemicals, to bring in new dirt to cover the entire area, or to plant in poly bags with good soil. The other problem: They all cost money that we don’t have. The solution: RAYA’s donation. I could use the money to buy the bags and the soil!!!!

So today, I went with Sylvester again to go shopping for the plastic planting bags in a place called Kariakoo market. It is a crazy busy place. So as I waited in the taxi with Rajab, our regular driver, I had a sudden realization that this was the last time I would be doing this. Rajab, as usual sat with me and we reviewed Kiswahili words as we do. (he is an excellent teacher because he loves seeing me learn). He repeated “jua cali” the sun is hot, “maji” water, “joto sana” very hot. And so on. These are all things I’ve known for months by the way, but I love our moments. Then I had to look away and put my sunglasses on as my eyes welled up with tears. This is it. I’m almost done. Don’t get me wrong, it is incredibly annoying and inefficient to work here. And I love it.

Sylvester came back a few times since we needed to buy 300 bags and he needed to go to several “dukas” shops to accumulate that many. 10 here, 20 there. I eventually told Rajab, let’s go stand in the shade, as running the car with air con is too expensive for him. So off we go and he decided to get some chai and I stood outside waiting. Finally, after a long Tanzanian wait, Sylvester returned to fetch me so we could go purchase it. He grabbed my hand and held it. As we walked hand in hand (I’m sure I’ve mentioned before how much I LOVE this custom-holding hands with friends) he took me inside the market. He stopped me and told me to hide my phone. This market is notorious for thieves. So hand in hand, Sylester very protective of me, leads me into the bustling market and narrow walkways. I move past sacks of rice and flour, coconuts on the ground, and many people yelling “mzungu”(this is the accepted term for white person) and we reach the spot where we are to purchase the bags. Now Sylvester says, okay, give money. So I do, we get a receipt, and off we go each with a giant sac full of... well more sacs really. I walk behind him and now he gets protective again and tells me to walk in front so he can keep an eye on me. More tears.

The next step was to pick up another member of the farmer group at one of the municipalities who is collecting equipment from an organization called FAO, the Food And Agriculture Organization of the United Nations. As a result of one of our meetings with FAO we managed to get equipment and seeds donated to the group. So now, with lots of equipment the three of us headed back to their farm and unloaded all the goodies. I explained that the money had not come from my organization but rather from a friend in Canada. What an amazing moment. I wasn’t sure at first if my Kiswahili had conveyed what I was trying to say until I heard Sylvester explain it to his wife and she thanked me so graciously and they all asked me to thank my friend. Raya, thank you from all of us. Even more tears.

This is not a huge dollar amount to a Canadian but it is making a big difference. It has made a problem now a solution and will allow this group to utilize the expensive tunnel we bought them. What a difference a little can make, and I really mean that.

So after a day of holding back tears I went home and...okay, I give up... I went home and sobbed.

The Sea

The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea. -Isak Dinesen (Karen Blixen) 

I have experienced all three of the above in truckloads while here, and I think she is right. Let's start with the SEA.

Okay so I went snorkeling on Mafia. Mafia is an island off the east coast of Tanzania mainland. It takes about a half hour to fly from Dar es Salaam. What an amazing weekend! First off many of my friends here happen to be pilots. So we were lucky enough to have one of our friends flying our plane there and another one flying back. It is a fun perk that adds to a trip. (also, I have had the thrill to fly the plane a few time!!! It is so fun I can’t even explain, I become like a little kid with excitement in that seat combined with shear terror of the responsibility a pilot has)

So we took off on our adventure with my favorite driver Rajab in his car to the airport. We waited for our flight and our friend who was joining us to arrive. She is also a pilot and her last flight arrived back in Dar at 3:00 and our flight was to take off at 3:00. She told us to lay in front of the aircraft and not allow it to leave without her. It worked out perfectly because the aircraft assigned to our flight to Mafia was the aircraft she was flying. So it couldn’t leave until she got here. Sweet!

In the meantime we waited in the little airport that is designated for in-country flights. Even that was fun as I watched many of my pilot friends come and go with little visits here and there in between them racing off to their next flight. I have always found it to be fun to have a window into friends’ lives that you don’t normally get to see. So to see them at work and even be a part of it is oddly exciting to me. Not to mention that it passes the time and we look like we are very important with all the pilots chatting with us.

Next stop Mafia. We had a smooth flight with our friend Alberto making a smooth landing on a rough red dirt/gravel runway. I get so excited each time I fly with someone I know, I feel proud and impressed every time. (Incidentally, I am also proud when a friend I know back home is serving me at a restaurant, it is fun to see someone in their element, doing a good job at what they do, regardless of what the job is) 

Me hangin' with Denise, one of my other pilot friends. Yes, another female pilot! Makes her even more of a rockstar in my eyes, working in a very male centric industry. 

This is not me swimming topless. Since I don't have an underwater camera I took this from the google machine to give you an idea of the size, and I am not exaggerating when I say this is a small one.

The reason for the trip was mainly to go snorkeling with whale sharks. Whale sharks only come around at certain times of the year and we are lucky to be here at the right time. From the air as we were approaching the island I was looking down and saw two of the gigantic sharks. They were enormous from up above and I squealed. I don’t think I really knew what I was on my way to swim with until that moment. Seeing it from the sky was already incredibly exciting.

I have heard that sometimes you only get a few minutes with them but we had one nice dude who let us swim with him for 2 hours. 2 HOURS with this magnificent creature! It was incredible. I cannot articulate how amazing it is to see something so big in the sea and not be fearful of it. They are filter feeders and don’t want to eat you so, although at first it was a bit frightening, quickly you realize that they are not interested in you. Also, because I had the privilege of seeing two other whale sharks who happened to be extremely fast and impossible to keep up with, I have the first hand experience that they can take off if they are annoyed with people following them around.

This is what it looks like from the front. I saw this view several times as the boat guides were very good at picking you up when you got behind and dropping you off right in front of their face. A bit freaky when their mouth is open and two of you could easily slip inside there.

The next day we headed out on another snorkeling trip to the coral reefs in the marine reserve. This was equally fantastic. After waiting for the guys who were meant to take us out in their boat for over an hour (Ahhhh Tanzania you can be infuriating) we finally got out there and had one of the most amazing days ever and completely forgot how annoyed we had been waiting. Lesson learned, thank you Tanzania. I will probably forget though.

They took us to several different reefs and I was able to snorkel around and explore nooks and crannies that presented sea creatures I had never seen before as well as some familiar favorites. I spotted a sea turtle who let me gaze at him and yell at my friends and as they approached he swiftly exited like a speedy sea dinosaur.

Later the “guides” yelled at us “dolphins” so we swam back to the boat and followed a pod out into the waters.(the guys estimated about 50 dolphins) Here I have to say I was grateful with the way they handled the approach. They did not chase the dolphins but got close, stopped the engine and allowed the dolphins to dictate how close they got. We could see them cresting and it was overwhelming how many there were. My man and I were putting our fins and masks on as we approached. I yelled “can we go in” and got the go ahead. We jumped in and immediately I saw the sweet looking faces peering back at me. So many, so close. They swam ahead and turned back, curios little guys. We swam as fast as we could. Seriously, I don’t know that I have ever moved that fast! Mid paddle amongst the dolphins I lifted my head, pulled out my snorkel and yelled “this is the best day of my life!!!!” with childhood exuberance and then put my face back in the water and continued to follow them. What an experience! As quickly as they arrived, they were gone. I am so thankful that I had that experience. It was definitely a major life event, and it was entirely unplanned. 

 I wonder what’s next.....

Reunion

4 years ago I came to Tanzania and volunteered in a small town called Bagamoyo. It is about an hour and a half north of where I am living now but is very different than the big city of Dar es Salaam. The population is currently about 30,000 and operates as a fishing village and has many artists and art schools. Historically it was a port for Ivory and Slaves. The meaning of “Bagamoyo” in Swahili is “lay down your heart”. It is debated that this is in reference to the porters that carried cargo from the great lakes region so meaning “take a rest” or that it refers to the fact that the slave trade passed through here and meant “give up all hope”. Regardless, when I researched going to Bagamoyo I went because my heart was lost and I needed a place to rest and restore it and that is exactly what I did there. It was the first place I had been to in Africa and I fell in love with the continent, the country, and most importantly, the people.

While I was there I taught English to to children ages 4 to 7 in the mornings and then in the afternoon I taught at a place called Unity Art Center where my students were all artists, street youths, aged 14 to 21. I went thinking I love little kids and wanted to work with the youngest people possible. At the time the organization didn’t work with orphanages so I was placed in the primary school. The students only attended half days so I needed another placement. Because I am an actor I was placed with the artists. I wasn’t sure about working with that age but it ended up being the best part of the experience. Don’t get me wrong, the littles are cute but holy s*#t they are jerks too. They literally were climbing the walls, not listening to me much of the time, and most of the time could not understand me. I essentially was at a daycare where corporal punishment was in full effect and it was devastating to see. 

See, look at this little jerk messing around while I'm trying to teach.

But what's not to love when they are being this adorable!

On the other hand, the teens, they were committed to learning from me. They showed up each day to sit on the dirt floor of their little artist hut to learn English from me. ME! I’m not a teacher. I didn’t know what I was doing. In the future, if I were ever to do that again, I would visit an elementary school at home and get some lesson plans. But I made do and slowly learned what level they were at in order to figure out what to teach them. We covered basic vocabulary but quickly moved on to sentence structure and interesting things like “if” - “then”. That day was one of the more profound moments where I saw the difference between an Tanzanian street youth’s conditional sentence and what I imagine would be a Canadian’s. 

My students' homework put on the board. Reality Check! (and an ego boost)

I incorporated one day a week that was about cultural exchange where we discussed their lives and life in Bagamoyo and I showed them pictures and did my best to answer any of their questions about Canada. On these days I learned how few of them still had both or even one parent alive, their concerns about HIV and AIDS, the difficulty in getting an education, and how they make enough money to eat. I showed them my “luxurious” apartment which was a little embarrassing by standards back home, I mean, only one bedroom and carpet, GROSS. It was RI-DIC-U-LOUS luxury to them. Really puts things in perspective when you visit a friends house and it is a building with 6 rooms. 6 families, one room each. Up to 6 people per room. In the hall they cook on little charcoal stoves. This is the most common set up. Carpet seems pretty great compared to these conditions. Really, I realized I complained WAY to much and took what I had for granted. I arranged evenings where some of the other volunteers would come with me to a local pub and socialize with my students so they could practice speaking English. You see, many people don’t speak it at all in Tanzania, so if you can’t use it, how do you improve? However, with the ability to speak it you greatly increase your employability in many sectors.


Those teens had a huge impact on me and my outlook and it was because of their keen desire to learn that I realized I hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity I have in Canada to get an education. So I returned to get my degree. Now, at the end of my degree I won this internship and found myself back in the very country that got me to go to school. Full circle. Love it. 

The Boys. My students designated as "street youth" that changed my life. They created the sign above us when I got there, I was the "white" hand model.

 

So on a weekend I returned to Bagamoyo to see the place where I went to lay my heart down in hopes that I would find my old students. The first day I went to the hut where I taught the teens and it was still there, with art hanging but there was no one to be found. It looked ill kept and I felt really really sad. What was I expecting 4 years later? So I went on with the day and enjoyed the village, taking in the sights and streets that I got to know so well years ago. 

No one was around so I had my picture taken next to the old sign. Was wishing for the hub of energy and activity that it was 4 years ago. 

More sadness ensued as one of my favourite artist hang outs was falling apart. Time has not been good to that building. However, then I saw they had raised a structure to take the place of the old building where I found some wonderful artists that knew of me. Wow. I asked them about certain people I taught and they knew many of them. So the next day I returned to Unity Arts Center.

As I was walking up I saw a fella and began repeating, “I know him, I know him”. I felt oddly nervous that he would not remember me. I had this experience on a pedestal for the past 4 years. Would he even know who I was?

A few meters away he looked up and saw me. He yelled my name, hugged me, picked me up and spun me around. BLISS!!! He completely remembered me. This was Hansey. He was the one who spoke English the best and really was my translator when I was teaching those who knew very little. I found 2 others that I taught still there as well. After a series of hugs, high fives, and more spinning me around I spoke to Emanuel. Emanuel was a sweet, soft spoken guy with next to no English when we began. This day: I could converse with him no problem. This was such a proud moment and must be why teachers become teachers. He was dedicated, worked hard, and the difference is astounding. I bought art from all 3 of them because I wanted to support them in some way, uphold what they are doing.

Hansey proceeded to call two other guys that I taught. They actually founded Unity Art Centre. I had been impressed by these two, that they created this place for kids to learn art from each other and English from whoever was around to teach. Hansey took us for a walk to a little street bar to find these two. A similar greeting ensued and I was thrilled they recognized me and that they were so happy to see me. I sat down and had a beer with them (they are all in their 20’s now) and laughed and chatted. Perhaps I caught them on an unusual day but I got the impression they spend a lot of their time drinking (it was the middle of the day and they were well on their way) and I think it is fair to assume based on their friends that drugs may be a part of their lives as well. Selling. Taking. So sad and unfortunate. Now I know what it might feel like to be a parent or a teacher and see so much potential wasted. I was full of excitement and disappointment simultaneously.

I was thrilled that I found some of my guys still around Bagamoyo, others have moved to the city, Zanzibar, and one has become a soldier. I hope they are all happy and healthy. That’s all I want the rest is up to them.

My time there was such a drop in the bucket but these guys remembered me and said such kind words about how I was the beginning of it all. I was the first teacher “mwalimu”. I am absolutely honored to have had the opportunity. 

YAY!!! I found them. They aren't all here but this was a moment of pure joy. Love love love.

Moula

First off for those of you who do not know, I work for an NGO. NGO stands for Non Governmental Organization. It essentially means they are not part of the government and are not like your average for-profit business. The confusion sometimes lies in the fact that many NGO’s receive funding from governments. For example, CIDA(the Canadian International Development Agency) actually funds lots of NGOs.


Throughout my life I have heard from various people that they will only donate money to organizations where %100 of their donation goes directly to the people it is meant to help. This is an understandable desire, one I have shared. I get that often we are motivated to give based on a brilliant marketing scheme that pulls on our heartstrings or guilt or knowledge that what we practically throw down the drain each day in the form of a coffee etc can allow someone to feed an entire family. That we want our hard earned money to go to those in need, not Bono, not some NGO worker that drives a BMW or Landrover and lives in a swanky apartment (this is not me by the way, far from it, but they do exist- and I will go on to explain why this isn’t necessarily a problem).


Here’s a newsflash that I didn’t even fully understand until working for an NGO. You can’t do ANYTHING without money. First off and importantly, I want to point out that educated people are running these offices, managing money, managing people. Who do you want to run the show and to distribute your funds? The little kid in the picture that inspired you to give? The point is, people who work for NGO’s have expertise, education, and it is a JOB. Who should pay them? Because they are working in an industry that is meant to help people (or animals, or the environment etc) they should not be paid for the work they do? Perhaps doctors, nurses, therapists, and other helping professionals should not be paid for their work. Clearly this is absurd, but for some reason people don’t see that absurdity in asking people who work internationally in aid organizations to work for free.


Next issue that I have become very familiar with. Money to run an office. So since the funding for our program ran out in August it has been really difficult to do anything. It takes money to run an office. Seriously, there is rent, there is electricity, there is water. Not to mention that it is really hard to go visit sites, be active and supportive to the groups you are working with if you cannot get to them. There has been no money for transportation. Is it expected that an intern cover all the costs to continue business (sure I am a paid intern, but that pay does not begin to cover all my expenses here and back home so this internship will cost me in the end)  Perhaps I should buy the paper and ink to photocopy the receipts we copy to prove money isn’t being squandered. I am being facitious but I hope you see that money is necessary to operate and the theory that %100 of donations should go to the beneficiaries isn't really possible.


I was guilty of thinking it was a waste of money if that money didn’t go directly to the beneficiaries. However, with the experience of having no money at all to even get around, I can tell you that it is a big fat waste of time. All I wanted to do during the time we were without funds was work. To go see my projects. That was simply not an option. And without people like me working, even if you are sending loads of money to the “cause” you are just throwing money at something without any capacity building or guidance.


So this was just a little rant due to my frustration with lack of funding and the knowledge that if I am guilty of this line of thinking, I imagine others must be too.

I hope this has been at least a little eye opening and justifies that I may one day actually make a living doing a job, despite the fact that it may be working for an NGO. (although I am having my doubts that I will)


And here is something that is hard to admit. Now that our funding ended, we don’t have as much to do. When I first got here we had large sums of money to spend on projects. Things like I wrote about earlier like drilling for water and buying a greenhouse. Along with that goes supervision, training etc. However, when there is no money, these things are no longer happening and therefore there is no need for supervision and training. It’s hard to express how disheartening it is to work for years at university to get the opportunity to come to Africa to do work like this, only to be faced with little work to do.

Pretty Tanzanian Money. 

Happy Birthday MOM!

Today I want to write about my mom. It’s her birthday and I need to point out that I have spent a great deal of time lamenting the loss I will feel leaving this life behind. However, I have failed to note how freaking awesome it is that I get to return to so many loved ones. Ones that I appreciate more than ever. It’s like when you have the flu and you are so sick you want to die. Once you feel better, you really appreciate your health in a way that you take for granted. There are so many people back home that I can’t wait to see and value now more than ever. I will make more effort to maintain those relationships. But today is about my momma.

My mom has been a guide throughout my life but I have never appreciated her the way I do right now. She has helped me through some hard times while I’ve been here and ironically, I have never felt closer to her.

Mother’s and daughters have an odd friction, or at least my mom and I did. No one pushes my buttons the way she does. I don’t know what it is but I don’t give a shit right now because I’d do anything to see her today and have her push my buttons. Perhaps it is age, that I am growing up and can imagine what it might be like to be a mom, but I have more respect and compassion for her. She is a wise, beautiful, loving, thoughtful, funny, hard working, generous person. The list of adjectives could go on and on. Also, I have the unfortunate experience of imagining what it would be like to not have her around. She bravely fought cancer over the past 2 years. And she f*@king kicked its ass!! What a hero.

Mom, I am so grateful for your guidance, that you have your health back, and that I get to see you in less than two months. Many glasses of wine will be drunk to celebrate that you were born and gave me the privilege to live this extraordinary life.

xoxo MWAH!

Loss

Life lately has been a series of losses. Some bigger than others but life as an expat feels like a billion little heartbreaks. As I’ve written about before, living in a transient city you make friends fast but just as quickly as you form a bond, off they go to the next destination. Most people aren’t here for a long time. 2 years is a long placement here. (I'm jealous of those people at times and at other times I can't imagine being stuck here that long) Since you are arriving at different times, you can feel like you are just settling in and forming relationships that are remotely meaningful when the next thing you know you are at their going away party. The worst part is often you don’t have any notice. You think you will be spending the rest of your time here with someone who was meant to be here long past the time you leave and poof, they lose their job or move on for some other reason.


Certainly I have not made a great deal of meaningful relationships. There is a handful of people that I will stay in touch with and perhaps one or two that I will ever see again in my life. But is that going to stop you from being in the moment and caring about people? Of course not. That would be such a waste of this moment. However, as you meet people you go through the usual questions to each other, what do you do here, where are you from, how long are you here for. It gets old fast. What is exciting is when you stop having those conversations and just fall into one that is more like friendship than a bad first date. I was at one friend’s going away party and met a guy, I asked him when he was here till and he said next week. I apologized and told him I didn’t want to get to know him. It’s too hard, and annoying to go through the small talk for nothing. In retrospect, I may have missed out on a super cool dude (probably not, but for the purposes of making my point here, he may have been the key to me making millions, who knows).

But if you go along protecting yourself from feeling loss, you miss out on so much. I know that sounds so very cliche like “it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all” but it really is true. The deeper you experience love for someone or something, the greater the loss. You can’t feel one without the other. It can be incredibly painful but would you want to live a life of not feeling either? So in addition to these little heartbreaks of constantly saying goodbye to the connections I make here, I also am experiencing a big loss back home. My dog (and my dad's dog- it was a sort of time share), the love of my life was put down while I was here. I am aware that my parents would only have made this choice because it was the best option. But it was awful to not say goodbye. It is awful to love something and lose it. Period. But would I take back caring about something so much so it didn’t hurt so much now? Of course not, life is about feeling all our emotions to the fullest.


And then there are the people I work with here. Uhhhg. That is going to be difficult as well. Let me take you back 4 months to when I arrived. As my predecessor and trainer took me around introducing me to the people she worked with she also was saying her goodbyes. Well every time she said her spiel about enjoying working with them and goodbye, I CRIED. She didn’t, I did. Obviously I am going to be a mess 6 weeks from now. Embracing feeling to the fullest at the cost of a billion little heartbreaks. A small price to pay, really. And who knows what’s around the corner....


“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings” - Lao Tzu

I love this dude so much. 

Community

I have a tendency to veer towards hibernating back home. It always seems so much easier to stay home in my comfort zone where I don’t have to worry about how I look or what to say or any uncomfortable moments. By doing this however, I limit myself from so many potential opportunities and experiences. I know this because I can hardly think of a time that I actually went out and regretted it (with the exception of overconsumption of tequila a few years ago- I still can't stand the smell). Sure there is often the person you get stuck talking to that you don’t want to, or you are tired etc. But more times than not, I wind up having a good time and feel more alive. More me. So why do I avoid this so often? I am not sure but I have a new awareness that I need to move past that uncomfortable feeling and get into my community. Our social selves are just as much a part of us as who we are on our own, so why would we not try to experience everything life has to offer. 

Community means something different to everyone. For some it may be their family, others it may be a group of friends they have had since high school, or even a group that met at work. It is the feeling of belonging to something bigger, a shared experience and a camaraderie that I am realising I need more of in my life. I like it. I see how being around others can make me feel more like myself in a strange way. 

The other cool thing is judgement seems to go to the wayside. You become friends with people you may never have back home. The pool in which to pick from is reduced and you automatically have something in common, you are here. Just a little realization that you can find a way to enjoy almost anyone if you get past yourself. There are people that have become dear to me despite the fact that I don’t really know them. I hang out with them and conversation rarely gets deep. But so much of our lives are “deep” around here so it’s nice to just share some laughs over some generic tasting beers (oh, I miss my micro brews back home) People come and go around here often so you don't learn a lot about each other but can still feel friendship, because we know what it is like to ride in a bajaj and wonder if you will get home alive, to walk down the street and pray you aren't mugged, to be an outsider, to be assumed rich based on your skin, to miss home but you chose this so buck up and find a way to cope.

Here in Dar, social life seems to centre around drinking much of the time. Admittedly it is not that healthiest nor is it the way I behave back home. What I do know is that it isn’t ABOUT the drinking but about a group of people being in an environment where they need to feel connected to something outside of themselves. It is a lonely existence being an expat in Dar without a community. Usually we tend to go to westernised environment where we can relax and let our guard down from the dangers and stresses of this city. You need to form social groups. It is a necessity for your sanity. So for me these people have become incredibly important to me even if it is just for a short time and I never see or hear from them again; they are my present. Perhaps that’s why you feel like you are so close so quickly. Like you’ve known someone for years when in fact, it is approximately a month. You have a shared experience, you can relate to each other, and you are there for each other. So today I am grateful for the small community I have formed here and have a greater awareness of how I need to cultivate that back home by getting out of my comfort zone and discovering myself in social communities.

Look at this crazy crew that helps me get through the days.  In their defence, this was the goat races where we were supposed to dress up in costumes. So I am actually the weird one here.

Inspiration

I just finished a meeting with two of my favourite people to work with. Mr. Kilongo and Fred. They are the treasurer and secretary of TaFoGaNet respectively. (TaFoGaNet is a network of farmer groups that have formed to work towards the legitimization process, farmers’ rights, information sharing, and capacity building)

Through text messages yesterday we arrange for them to come to my office for a meeting regarding several issues that affects their Network. They both show up on time at 9am. They do not get paid for their positions. Holy crap they work hard. Fred is a young man who puts countless hours into making TaFoGaNet run, has a wife and two sets of twins, runs and orphanage, has his own farm, is a minister, and has some other company that I lost track of. Mr. Kilongo runs a vocational school, that has a garden, a composting site, works tirelessly for TaFoGaNet, and is the best dressed guy in town. He always looks put together and smells great.

I find myself having to keep my heart in check while working with them. I am a very emotional person and there is seldom a day that goes by that I don't get a little weepy. But I am no good to them if I just feel admiration and get teary eyed. And I know it is absolutely useless to them for me to feel a bit sad because I see the effort they put in and what a struggle it is to get anything back. So instead, I get to work. I challenge them and do my best to build their capacity so that when I am gone they are sailing on their own. In reality I know that I am just a facilitator and they have much more skill and knowledge than I.

Working with these two inspires me and motivates me. An hour long meeting with them today is so satisfying and reminds me why I want to be here. Although some days it feels like I am doing nothing, I know that just as they are building something for the future, I am also contributing to that in my own very small way.


This quote makes me think of them:

A society grows when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in. -Greek Proverb

Opportunity in Change

My apartment was in an ideal place relative to my office. Up until a week ago when the office had to move. For my first 3 months here I had a five minute walk to the office. I said hello to the same woman each morning cooking cassava and the man sewing on his doorstep. It was quite safe because the route is a pothole filled dirt road so no worries of anyone driving by and snatching my bag.

When I found out our office was moving I was a little upset not only because I need to get up an hour earlier. Walking with my laptop for a greater distance is stressful, and transport costs money, something I don't have much of right now.

My amazing boss agreed to pick me up part way. So now I walk for only about 15 minutes then wait at the very busy corner and he picks me up. What originally seemed like a burden and a stress has been so positive. On this walk I now encounter so many more experiences. I still take the same route past the old office and see the old faces and then I carry on past the mchicha farm(amaranth-like a spinach) where I say hello to the women I have worked with through the Tanzanian Food and Garden Network. Next I pitstop in a little field where women are cooking and men are sitting eating. A couple times a week I stop here and buy chapati and get laughed at and appreciated for speaking swahili. It is a whole lot of oil first thing in the morning (or any time of day) and I would never eat it back home, but it gives me chance to be part of something and although I can't really know what these women are thinking, it feels like I have a camaraderie with them because I am embracing a part of their culture, their daily life.

Next I walk along a busy road where I pass many people heading to work and school. Children snicker at me and often say the few English words they have learned "Good morning how are you- I am fine". Many women and men also say their swahili greetings to me as we pass by each other.  I have learned that this walk is quite safe and today my biggest worry was what once was a feeling of security. I walk past the American embassy which takes up about one city block and in light of all the news over the past few days, it is not really a place I want to be close to unfortunately. I really hope everyone is safe and there can be a peaceful resolution soon.

Not only did my boss offer to pick me up at the corner each day, he also negotiated with a Bajaj driver for my ride home. So Leonard, the bajaji, picks me up every afternoon at the office and takes me home. He will stop and wait for me to pick up groceries or go to the bank if I need. And I feel safe with him and we laugh and I truly enjoy it more than the ease of simply getting home in 5 minutes. Leonard is becoming my friend and knowing him is enhancing each day for me. This morning he saw me waiting to get picked up by my boss and he stopped and insisted he drive me free of charge. So what once seemed like a burden, the office moving, is actually a blessing.  I could not have predicted it but I am grateful for the longer day, the longer journey, it is fuller and much more satisfying.

This is Leonard, driving me home. 

Missing

So there are things I miss from back home that I would never have guessed and things that I love about here that I could never have predicted either. Here is a list, some things trivial admittedly.

I miss from there:

wearing shorts (not an option here, or short skirts for that matter)

smelling good

a blowdryer

my skin not looking like a shiny mess.(however, my skin is really happy here, it’s just shiny

green leafy, or even not so leafy vegetables, just something that doesn’t have to be cooked

fast internet

I’m just going to say it, and I don’t want to hear anything about it: tofu.

getting drinking water out of the tap

water pressure

bank machines that actually dispense money

good cheese

wearing boots and high heels (what a strange thing to miss but considering one of my friends calls me "boots" it gives you an idea of my fav footwear)

driving myself where I want when I want

carrying a purse, or bag. There are far too many drive by muggings that it is unsafe to carry a bag. The good thing is you learn to be really minimalistic. Keys, phone, money. Go.

walking from a to b

being in public and not having a single worry. This is huge. Despite the fact that it is relatively safe, there is always the need to watch your back and countless occasions where you are in transport and wonder if you will be taken to the place you have requested. Utterly terrifying for brief moments.

Good Beer. The have good names like "SERENGETI, NDOVU(ELEPHANT), TUSKER, CASTLE ETC" but they don't excite the palette. Nigel, you have ruined me.

My people.


I’ll miss from here:

the Indian Ocean. Incomparable. I can get to a tropical island in less than an hour.

Swahili greetings and culture

People holding my hand for extended periods of time (this is a cultural thing, and I love it. They shake your hand upon greeting you, but then don’t let go for a long time and you just hang out holding hands. They might walk with you holding your hand too. )

Living in an apartment in a Hotel (the guards, the cleaners- because it is nice to have a guard and someone to clean your home and do your laundry, but also, it’s so great to have this friendly mini neighborhood that celebrates your attempt to communicate with them)

Fast friends. The expat life is very transient. There are people coming and going all the time here. You find that you become friends very quickly and although you may only have known someone for 2 weeks it really does feel like 2 years. Often you wind up saying goodbye just as quickly as everyone is always moving on to the next stage of life. That part isn’t so good:(

pizza. It is everywhere and it is one of my favorite foods. So that works out.

Dancing. It is so easy to go out dancing here, not like back home where it is a bit of a scene and there are line ups. Here, you go to a restaurant. You dance. You blow off steam, you are ready for another week in this crazy city.

the sound of the mosque. Sure it pisses me off at 4 in the morning but the rest of the day, I kinda love it.

Bajaj. These are like tuktuks and are my main form of transport. Despite the fact that I fear for my life every day when I get in one, they are Dar to me, and usually I have a fun conversation with the driver.

The weather. I am thin. I am not meant to be in places that are cold. That’s all. I return in December- OH NO!

Sundowners. This is what we call drinks in the evening. I’m not a big drinker back home but who can resist a sundowner or two. On that note, it is 5:30 pm and that is exactly what I am off to do.

Several birds with one stone: My friend Sarah who I feel like I've known for a lifetime, sundowners, the Indian Ocean. 

Culture Break

So here in Tanzania greetings are of utmost importance. Upon seeing someone whether they are your closest friend or you are just being introduced, there is a series of greetings that occur. It goes something like this:

Hello, how is your (morning, day, evening)
How did you wake up / How did you sleep (this takes some getting used to, but how sweet is this!)
How is your home
How is your family
How is your work
Are you peaceful

The appropriate response for all of the above is fine or very good.

Then you can proceed with whatever you may be wanting to talk about. If you just ran into someone and that was a quick hello, then you say a series of goodbyes as well.

I love this cultural characteristic because it is polite and considerate. I feel like it shows that the person you are engaging with is of primary concern and then comes whatever it is you may need to talk about in a meeting or whatever it is you are doing. To ignore this cultural detail would be detrimental to fitting in and likely viewed as disrespectful. 

This process of greetings occurs on the phone as well. On a hilarious note, Tanzanians spend so much time engaging in greetings but conversely when you are on a phone call and the conversation is finished, they do not say goodbye. They just kind of trail off with a mumble or simply hang up. This was so weird to me at first and I was confused and felt it a bit rude. Then of course you need to remind yourself that it is just a cultural difference. Now I have acclimated and do the same. I had a thought yesterday upon ending a conversation with the head of a municipality that I am so used to it that I may do it when I get back home. Sorry in advance friends.

Speaking of phones, here everyone has a mobile. I know this isn't that shocking as it is common everywhere. What is different is that it costs a great deal to make phone calls, costs nothing to receive them, and is very inexpensive to send text messages. 

Because of this a few things are different here. You may find yourself text messaging all day long. With friends but also with, I don't know, mayors. Weird right? Also people do what is called flash calling. They don't have phone credit (or don't want to spend money talking to you)so they call you and hang up so you will call them. If you want to talk to them, you will have to pay. This is completely acceptable here. Oh Tanzania, I think I love you.

Dear Iphone, I miss you. Had I known I would be spending so much time with another, I would not have left you behind. Just look at this guy, he has nothing on you. (Except an alarm clock that is a British Woman who says "it's time to wake up" repeatedly and gets progressively louder. It works.

Charity

I struggle with the concept of charity. I am not here to simply hand out money to anyone, personally or professionally. Here or at home. It is not why I have pursued this path and I don’t believe it helps anyone in the long run. It creates dependency and does not foster drive, capacity building, or increase a person’s skills-anything with longevity.

The other day a person that I care about very much asked to borrow some money. He works as the caretaker of my office. I know him to be a hard worker, honest, and kind. It was clear that it wasn’t easy for him to ask this of me. When I asked him why he wanted to borrow the money he said it was for his friend who is sick and neither of them have enough money to buy medicine. Well that just sucks!

I hesitated to give him money only because I did not want to set a precedent and I believe that simply giving money is problematic. BUT I wanted to help him so I sat down and discussed the issue of borrowing and lending (because of the language barrier) so that we could establish a clear agreement although I was fairly certain he would pay it back. After that was determined I asked him how much he needed. The amount he specifically asked for was $6.25US. (I believe this is what he gets paid per day). My god, I would be happy to give him much more. I am sure I have more than that forgotten in my winter coats or at the bottom of several purses.

It was hard to stand by the principle that charity does not help anyone. Rather than getting caught up in emotions as I tend to do, we established a verbal contract for him to pay me back (Sheesh, it just feels ridiculous) so that neither of us lose our integrity in the exchange. I do believe that giving a hand out is not helpful but I know I have been in a position where I just needed a little help. And I’ve gotten it (thanks mom and dad) What about my friend who does not have a mom and dad to help him? Well I am glad to be that person and to be honest, I didn’t care if I got the money back for the sake of the money, I wanted him to care about the importance of paying it back.

The day passed when he had said he would return the money but I didn’t say anything. I wanted to wait and see what happened. Sure enough, a couple days later he came to me and returned the money. How incredible. This may not sound like a big deal reading it but in my opinion it contributed to our relationship becoming stronger. I showed him that I trusted him and wanted to help him and in turn he showed me he would not take advantage of me and appreciated our relationship. Now we have a relationship of mutual exchange. He helps me with my Swahili and I help him with English. My boss generously bought him English lessons and he is taking them very seriously, he does homework everyday and he goes to class every evening. 

Yesterday he asked me if I had any novels so he can work even harder on his English. All this guy needs is opportunity because he has drive and kindness beyond anything I have seen in a long time. So I will not just give away money but I will give him a gift of appreciation for his work he does around the office. So now I know what to get him. Books, books are definitely what he is getting from me.

I am not saving lives and I am not doing anything overly impressive here. It is about capacity building, sustainability, and building relationships. I am not winning nobel peace prizes, I am not having articles written about my achievements, and I certainly have not become the award winning actor I once thought I might be. But this I believe to be true and for that I am proud:

Buzzz

I have been slacking on my posts lately. The combination of discovering a social life in Dar, the busiest week of my internship, and failing internet access has been the reason.

I'm not going to get into anything right now because a girl needs to eat, and in order eat, she's gotta cook. Please give this article a read instead and you'll get a good idea of what Dar is like (excluding the wonderful details like amazing people!). Check out the pictures under the caption "In pictures: life in Dar es Salaam" as well.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-18655647

Perspective

I am thinking how interesting it is that the exact same situation can feel entirely different depending on how you perceive it.

My home just went from a safe-haven to a dangerous prison in a single realization. I just noticed my roommate took my key and I couldn’t get out of here if I wanted to (the lock is one of those ones where it can only be opened with a key whether from the inside or outside). It put me in a panic.

If I hadn’t seen she took my key, I wouldn’t feel any differently. I would have still been reading my book in the comfort of my secure little home. It is the bars on every window and the inability for anyone to get in here that allows me to relax within these walls on an ordinary day. However, without that key to unlock the door, I am literally trapped in here. (definitely not the safest feature and I don’t know much about this but I’m pretty sure that isn’t up to building codes back home)

What a difference it makes feeling like you are locking the bad guys out verses being the good guy locked in. Having the key in your possession rather than someone else and your perspective make all the difference in the world. Clearly this can apply to a multitude of things on an emotional and personal level as well. I will take this opportunity to ruminate on that while IAMTRAPPEDINMYF*@KINGAPARTMENT.


Below find a visual representation of my feelings.

the bars on my window on a normal day

the bars on my windows at this moment

Shopping

Woa. What a busy time right now. Hold on to your hat, this is a long one. 

It is especially busy now because the funding for our projects need to be spent by the end of the month. Despite the fact that money is needed for a zillion things around here, it is important we spend on things that build capacity and ensure sustainability. So when we spend money it is often on things like training for example. The challenge is that organizing trainings takes time and time is not on our side (or as Tanzanians say “time is no longer our friend”). 

However, it is incredibly important that we spend this money because if it is not spent, the funding appears to be unnecessary and then in the future the organization may have difficulty justifying the need for funding. There is no question the money is needed. It is just spending it in the way that we see will enhance the capacity of our partners and have longterm impact. 

So I spent Friday shopping! This is not the usual way we spend nor the type of shopping that may seem exciting but was necessary for the farmers group I am working with. It was such a crazy day for me. We rented a driver and a truck and I went shopping with the head of the farmers group that I am working with. His name is Sylvester. The first day I arrived here I saw him in a training, I didn’t actually meet him, but I knew I wanted to know him. You know how some people you are just drawn to? Well He seemed a solemn guy but there was something about him that made me want to know him and to make him smile. I watched as he took notes and was clearly intent on learning about organic farming, organic pesticides, marketing, record keeping, and financial management. I could tell he was a hard worker and was paying such close attention during that training. I asked my boss what his name was and the next time I saw him I shook his hand and in Swahili I said “Sylvester how are you today”. He lit up and laughed. Although people laugh at my swahili all of the time, I could tell he was tickled I knew his name. Ever since, he and I have been building a relationship of me trying to speak with him, and him saying in Swahili, “no Tanya, say it in Swahili”.

So, back to Friday, what a challenge! We drove for hours before we were able to find our destination, the gardening supply store. When we got there I was so confused because it was a tiny duka the size of a condo kitchen. We were there to pick up 4 wheelbarrows, several shovels, hoes, rakes, buckets, pipes, etc. All I could see were shelves of seeds. Turns out the big stuff is kept in a warehouse several blocks away. So the owner and Sylvester head off to get that stuff sorted at the warehouse-ish place. But they left me in the duka(store) by myself. I asked the owner if he was going to lock the door and he said no. He told his neighbor to keep an eye on me and make sure “no undesirables bothered me”. I asked what I should do if someone comes in. He said tell them to wait. Okay, simple enough. (I got one marriage proposal. This is nothing new around here for me, but this time it was a woman asking me to marry her son. Oh Tanzania, you are funny.)

Apparently I am a very popular tomato in Tanzania

This joke turned up when I googled my namesake tomato:
Why did the tomato turn red?.....
Because it saw the salad dressing!

Eventually they returned, I paid the owner, and we all got in the truck. An empty truck. I was confused because I thought that they had been loading it for the hour I sat in a store by myself. Hmmm, I will never know why it was done that way. What I can say, is efficiency is not a primary characteristic around here. So anyway, we made our way back through the market and I waited in this big truck in the middle of a market while the men went again to get the supplies. Two boys about 12 years old set up their spice sales on the ground right outside my window and hung out with me while I waited. They went and got me some dates(the food, I can get a date on my own thankyouverymuch) and I bought some mystery spice off of them. (What I know is you can use it on meat or rice. Great, so many options.) Eventually the driver and Sylvester returned with several children carrying things, loaded them into the truck and after paying the kids some shillings for their help, and a guard for allowing us to park where we did, we were off after a mere 7 hours.

What a day. I am in a truck with two guys who don’t speak English going shopping for farming supplies on the busiest day of the year. (The end of Ramadan is this weekend so Friday's market was the equivalent of Christmas eve back home. Everyone was out shopping.) As we sat in epic traffic that Dar is known for even on a normal day, I brought out my notebook that I write everything in. I showed Sylvester the pages and pages of my Swahili lessons I had been working through and he was impressed. Tanzanians are very proud of their language and appreciate any effort made by expats to learn Swahili. That notebook of words that were familiar to him gave us a starting point, a common ground. From that point the day developed into so many amazing moments of us laughing (like when I told him how the kids in the market were staring at me because I was white-he thought that was hilarious), or when he seemed moved when I asked how his son Dennis was today. He was surprised I remembered his name. Then there was the end of the day when he expressed how hungry he was so so we ate some of the dates I had. These are simple things but I know that it was a bridge between Canadian NGO worker and Tanzanian farmer. Best 7 hours in traffic ever.

Sylvester and I with our goods
(credits
Hair:by salt water and wind
Makeup- dusty roads and humidity
Wardrobe- Whatever covers my legs and shoulders
Photo- the extremely annoyed driver)

There are so many little ways to connect with people across language barriers and cultural differences. I am grateful I had the chance to spend the day with Sylvester and in a small way contribute to his and the other farmers’ livelihood. The success of this farm is how he will provide for his son Dennis. So this was no ordinary trip to the hardware store.

Adorable Pests

I was reading a manual for urban agriculture today and came across this:

“If there are goats or monkeys in the area provision need to be made so that the food is not eaten or destroyed by these animals.”

True. I imagine it is a nuisance but I think it is ADORABLE.  This is definitely not an issue for urban farmers in Vancouver. Is it wrong that I want this problem.

I think I'd lose my mind with excitement if I saw this guy

on my patio steeling some lettuce.

I guarantee I would be putting things out there to attract them. Back home I put bread out to get the birds to come by-even though the beau doesn't like them eating the veggies he planted. I just love animals, and the older I get, I even appreciate birds. Hmm. (If I'm not careful I am going to be one of those crazy old ladies pushing her dog around in a stroller)

Or how about these two having a stare down over the goods:

now this is a little off topic but in searching for cute goat pics, I found this. I think my boxer back home needs a pet goat. Interspecies friendships are the best!

Boring

Not boring like you don’t want to read. It’s a play on words, this is exciting shit. Read on.

Since my last post on water a lot has happened. I was so excited when this happened:

But don’t be deceived like I was. This borehole actually turned up dry (well, there was a little water but not enough to irrigate the land we have). That image above is actually water being put into the borehole to clean it. I didn’t know that at the time because my knowledge of both Kiswahili and the process of drilling for water is lacking considerably.

So I was so disappointed when I figured out that we didn't have the water we needed. But....then I was happy because the drilling company agreed to drill another borehole. What great customer service (ya, kind of, we put in their contract that if they didn’t get to water, they only got half the money). So last week they drilled another and today I just got back from the site where they were doing a pump test.

Unfortunately it isn’t the greatest quantity of water. I am told that in the past there would have been much more. Hey Global Warming, go suck it! The amazing news however, is that the water is potable. Meaning we can definitely use it for irrigation (unlike the other 2 boreholes on the site that are saltwater and completely useless).

This is very good news.

Here I am tasting to see for myself if there is salt content like the previous boreholes. Nope, we have a successful borehole! (although I shouldn’t be drinking any water, so we will see how I feel tomorrow and spare you the details)

 

Night and Day

We have all heard and likely used the term “as different as night and day”. For me this has taken on new meaning recently.

I hesitate to write anything negative about Tanzania because I love it so much. Kind of like a child. You know, where you love it so much no matter how badly she behaves. Where you can say things about your own kid but if anyone else were to dare you would tell them off. You want to brag about her and her accomplishments. But there she is misbehaving right in front of you. There’s no denying she’s being a little brat.

Well, for me this stands out most of all once it gets dark. The first two weeks that I was here I was completely oblivious to the issue. I felt safe and comfortable from day one. That is until one night I was walking with a group of 8 people and one of the girls I was with got grabbed by a moving car and dragged in an attempt to steal her purse. She was then dropped on the ground and was knocked out for a few minutes (in the end she was fine, suffered a few scrapes and bruises).

This incident put a great deal of fear in me. All the negative stories of people being mugged came out of the woodwork. Why hadn’t I heard about this? So I wouldn’t run the other way the minute I got off the plane I guess. Now I have heard so many bad stories I tell people I don't want to hear as they begin their diatribe. How does it serve me? I get it, it's dangerous at night. Enough said, I am being careful.

So now I have heard so many stories of people being mugged (and worse) while walking or even by their taxi drivers. For a while I had no idea how to operate once the sun went down. I was told don’t carry a purse or bag of any kind (Crap! All my skinny jeans have fake pockets). I was suspicious of every taxi and bajaj (like a tuktuk) driver and taking phone numbers obsessively of those who seemed like they didn’t have ill intent (like I can determine this based on a 2 minute conversation in my broken Swahili anyway. What am I, an intuitive genius). For a few days I didn’t leave my home.

Now, it’s a few weeks later and I am feeling more comfortable. I am extremely cautious but realize that although I may be bordering on the poverty line back home, here I am rich and that makes me a target! The fact that there is so much poverty in a city that is becoming increasingly expensive makes it understandable that crime is on the rise as well. (This is a big issue that is way beyond my expertise-I don't have an expertise- but I hope some smarty pants gets on it). So now I know some rules of the road here in Dar at night and am navigating how I can go get some dinner without being utterly terrified (now I am just mildly terrified).

In the day, on the other hand, this is when sweet Tanzania is behaving and I am proud. Certainly I don’t go around flashing money, and I watch where I walk (mainly because traffic is INSANE here-I play frogger daily). People are kind and friendly the majority of the time and the most common word you will hear is Karibu (Welcome). The worst thing I’ve seen in the day is that I am stared at. (Which I think everyone should have a chance to experience since it is almost guaranteed that you have been on the giving end of a stare at some point in your life) People aren’t subtle either. There is no such thing as a glance to get a look at me. No, here, people will just stare at you for as long as they want. What I like to do is give them a slow smile then greet them in Swahili. 99% of the time you will see a big smile grow on their face and then they will engage in a short exchange of pleasantries. The next time you see them they will say hello like you are old friends.

I love it.

So here, the difference between night and day is palpable. Unfortunately, the days here near the equator are short, but each day I am grateful for that day and every evening I have something to look forward to, tomorrow.