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.