A few people have asked that I post all my journal entries from Africa. They're kind of long, so hopefully you are good at skimming for highlights. - Fifer
Subject: There's a goat outside my bedroom
Hamjambo rafikiwa! I haven't even started this email and already I know it's too long. Feel free to skim or delete - I won't quiz you afterward. It's just that the simplest things appear fascinating, even when they're not. (Look everyone! African peanut butter!)
I've been here for less than 48 hours and already I've danced with a Tanzanian hooker, climbed (halfway) up Mt. Kilimanjaro, held a stranger's baby in my arms, nearly bumped heads with a blue monkey, and sang hymns in Swahili while sitting on the lap of some old man. I can only imagine what the rest of the trip may hold. Read on if you want more.
The trip here was fairly easy. (I'll skip the part where my 21 year old cat went into kidney failure due to stress, and I was gearing up to put him to sleep, only to have him miraculously recover to full health and get released from the hospital 2 hours before I caught my plane abroad. Needless to say, the cat was not the only one stressed.)
I had a quick layover in London, zipped into town for a great show (a ballet performance of Edward Scissorhands to Danny Elfman's score), then zipped back to the airport for my plane to the capital of Tanzania, Dar Es Salaam - a third world city for sure, but which has the most beautiful beaches. The shores are like Hawaii or Fiji - absolutely beautiful color to the water - but here the surroundings are quite poor. When I flew over the Ocean on my next flight to Kilimanjaro, the water is so clear that you can see the topography of the ocean below - like an underwater mountain range - really stunning.
En route from London to Dar, I flew over Darfur and the Sudan. All I could think was 'I wonder what villages are being burned or who is being raped at this very moment?' It felt weird to fly so closely over all that horror from my cushy seat in first class (which was very cushy indeed, by the way - British Airways is the way to go.)
My home in Kili is in a little village. Many roads are unpaved (driving here is treacherous - it's like the lunar surface, and there are no rules of the road as far as I can make out.) My house is nice with a very friendly staff. The volunteers on their way out are mostly 18 year old girls, and they took me out dancing the first night to a bar filled with locals, including some of questionable repute, but it was very safe. I have 3 roommates, though one is leaving shortly. Two are in college, the other sells real estate in Seattle. The group of volunteers starting with me is a bit older - mostly 30s and 40s - and the 18 and 20 year olds are slowly finishing up their time here (very sad to go - crying as they leave - which I'm told is the norm for all volunteers.) There are 2 guards at our compound at night, and we have an electric wire fence around us, giving the compound a very 'Hotel Rwanda' feel, which is a bit unnerving. But they are merely protecting us from robbers, which is preferable to ethnic cleansers.)
The locals here are generally friendly. They know little of current events in other parts of Africa - I guess they have their own troubles to worry about. But they all know about the war in Iraq and Bush.
Yesterday I climbed almost halfway up Mt. Kilimanjaro (as much as I could in a day.) It's really amazing. One minute you're walking in a tropical rain forest, then you're in a grassy field, then you're in a mossy forest with blue monkeys, then you're in an open rocky area, then another bizarre forest - all within the span of a few miles. And it's very steep. It was a tough climb for many, but I had no problems and would do it again in a heartbeat. I had heard that the famed snowcaps of the mountain were melting due to global warming, and sadly it is true. One side barely has any ice anymore. I might have to seriously consider a hybrid car and those fluorescent light bulbs when I return.
The birds here are giant - storks and all sorts of unusual creatures. The mosquitoes are not a problem as I feared, though there was a praying mantis at breakfast this morning the approximate size of a Maytag washing machine. There are roosters that will not shut up, barking dogs - this is not the place for light sleepers. I live in a very rural village - goats, cows, chickens everywhere.
The highlight of my trip thus far was a bus ride to the mountain. The 18 year olds (living on a budget) told us to take the daladala, which is a local bus. Only it's not a bus, it's a Toyota van in which they stuff as many people as possible. At one point there were 31 people in my van, and it was an hour ride. We sit on top of each other, children get passed around, and the van speeds and honks its way through hills and valleys. (Along the roads, women are carrying things on their head - one woman carried a dining room table and 2 chairs! Perfectly balanced without using her hands!) In the van, everyone's bodies are so squooshed and maneuvered; Imagine playing a game of Twister in a clown car and you'll pretty much get the feeling. At one point, a woman started singing Swahili church hymns. A few other women joined in, plus an old man sitting next to me. Since the songs are made up of repetitive phrases, I decided to sing along. You should have seen the looks on the faces of the locals - staring at me in curiosity as I joined in the Swahili hymns. The stares quickly gave way to smiles (for the most part), and after a few songs, it was as if I was one of them and they thought nothing of it anymore. It was then that I really felt I had arrived in Africa.
Hope I didn't bore you with too many details. I'll write again next week with details from my job, which I begin on Tuesday, and to which I am very much looking forward.
Salama.
Begin forwarded message:
Subject: A man just walked by carrying a freshly chopped-off cow's head (on his head).
Hamjambo rafiki.
There's so much I could tell you, I don't know where to begin. I'll just start with my day today and work backwards, until my fingers get tired, or you get bored, whichever happens first.
Today is Independence Day in Tanzania. My fellow volunteer Youko and I went into town and were picked up by the man who runs the shelter where we volunteer. The kids from the shelter were performing today at a special event for the holiday. (More about them later.) We drove to a wide open dirt field where many people had gathered. It was adjacent to a very poor part of town - what we would call a shanty town almost. When Youko and I got out of the car, at least one hundred children of all ages instantly surrounded us. If you want to know what it feels like to be a rock star or movie star, just come here. The kids didn't want anything from us, they just wanted to be near us, to touch us. I started shaking the hand of one, and soon I had at least 10 kids on each hand. With another 50 circling me, just looking at me, smiling... Some called me "mzungu" which means "white person", others called me "mwalimu" which means "teacher". Some tried to impress me with their English, and I tried to impress them with my Swahili - neither of which is in fact impressive. They asked my name, they asked where I was from, they asked for the name of my father, then the name of my mother (You should have heard them trying to say "Ruth" - They don't have "th" in their language, and Ruth proved quite comical and the source of much laughter.)
I sang a few songs for them, took their picture (which they loved). It was quite an experience. Then Youko and I were escorted to some chairs under a tent next to the dais - Even though no one knew we were coming, the simple fact that we showed up made us guests of honor. It was a hot morning, so a chair in the shade was reserved for us and for local politicians. There was a lot of African music, and of course I started dancing in my chair, to the delight of many women and children in the audience. I'm not sure if they think I'm crazy - quite possibly they do - but they definitely find me amusing and frequently give me the thumbs up. We then had to listen to a political speech (given by the regional director of Kilimanjaro - a woman who was treated with great respect). Her speech was endless, and I thought she would never shut up. Youko and I got out as soon as we could without causing an international incident. But I would have sat through 10 of those speeches just to have the experience with all the kids beforehand.
Let's see - what else? The insect of the day is a Fear-Factor-esque slimy worm with wings. Maybe it's a locust? It buzzes about with big wings, but it has no legs, so it land with a thump, then has to worm around awkwardly with its wings flopping about. Runner up for insect of the day: the beetles, which are like small dinosaurs.
The insects aren't that bad really, and the mosquitoes are no problem. I sleep in netting, and wear 'buzz off' clothing. Most days I don't even bother with repellent. I think I've gotten a couple bites, but they are hardly noticeable.
The people are very friendly. One person heard I was from American and came over to express his condolences for Katrina and Wilma, which I though was incredibly touching, especially since this entire village is always in something akin to a post-hurricane state. Another woman kept saying a Swahili word I couldn't understand, and she kept repeating it - Only after about 10 times did I realize she was saying Schwarzenegger. She asked if he was a good "Senator" from California.
My throat is burning a bit today. At first I was afraid I was getting run-down, but I quickly realized it's from all the dust. The roads here are not only bumpy and treacherous, they are also asphyxiating - Every time a car passes, it's as if Pig-Pen just ran by.
In the afternoons, we have lectures and orientation. One day we had to go into the neighborhood and stop at any random stranger's house to visit. By ourselves or in pairs. Some of the other volunteers were somewhat terrified at the thought of barging into the home of a stranger who speaks minimal English, and ask to be invited inside, but I enjoyed it so much I did it again yesterday by myself. It's a great way to practice my Swahili. Everyone is always welcome in any home in Tanzania - especially visitors. (The other volunteers have labeled me "the ice-breaker" - one British woman here commented how I get things going, then shrink back. "You're the first in the room, though not the first one on the stage", she said to me one day. This is an interesting opportunity to see how strangers view you.)
Another day we had a lecture about AIDS and infectious diseases, which they are working hard to combat. Yesterday we had a lecture about family structures. It is so complicated here. Polygamy is accepted, but practiced only by the Muslims. Young women can be kidnapped for marriage, widows can be turned over to their brother-in-laws whether they want to be or not, yet rape is punishable by 50 years in prison, and the word of a grandmother is stronger than the law of parliament. It's a spider's web of tribal laws, both matriarchal and patriarchal, all confused by modern influences, poverty and AIDS - all of which eat away at traditional structure. Circumcision occurs at adolescence - without anesthesia. Homosexuality is against the law. Female genital mutilation has been outlawed, but some tribes out in the bush don't ever hear about government laws, so they continue the practice. There are many grass roots organizations at the local levels trying to fix all these things - working to empower women, protect children, and fight poverty and disease. But things move slowly here. For example, if someone says they will meet you at 9 in the morning, you should show up around 10 or 11. It is called Tanzanian Time. I don't know how people ever meet up with each other. When you make an appointment, you must ask several time if they really mean what they say, or if they mean Tanzanian time. It's great if you're one of those people always running late back home.
Tuesday I started my job. En route, we drop off the other volunteers (Mine is the last stop). One stop is the Green Nursery School. If only you could see it, you would never want to leave. It's my favorite part of the morning. It was started by a man at his home. It's an unregistered school - just a guy trying to help out. It's a mud-building down a long (dusty) road in the middle of nowhere, and the kids (4-6 year olds) come running out to greet us. These kids have the biggest smiles on their faces - they are all so beautiful. They can't wave their hands fast enough, they practice their English greetings - they are so excited when we drop off the volunteer, and they continue waving as we drive away. These kids have nothing. Nothing. And they are the happiest beings on the planet. You can learn more from them in 30 seconds than you can learn in a lifetime.
Then it was time for my stop. The TunaHAKI Centre for Street Children. I was a little disappointed at first - no children came running, it was very quiet. The man who runs the shelter is very soft-spoken and I wasn't quite sure what he expected me to do. After a bit, I got around to meeting the kids, who were busy tending to the chickens and goats. (There is itinerant poultry everywhere in Tanzania. The roosters still drive me crazy at night. I'm the only person in the country who is anxious for the bird flu to arrive.)
There are normally around 18 kids at this small shelter, but half of them have left for the Christmas holiday. The kids are runaways, orphans, or abandoned children. Those who were abandoned reunite with their family for Christmas, then will return in January. Right now, there are 9 at the shelter - they have nowhere to go. They range in age from 6 to 15. The kids specialize in dance and acrobatics. Of the 9 currently at the centre, 7 do acrobatics. My friend Karen had loaned me a book of old Muscle Beach photos which I brought with me, and it has completely altered my experience here. To say that the kids were excited by the book would be an understatement of gargantuan proportions. They devoured it, poring over each page, studying each pose then eager to try and copy it. I was able to show them a couple simple moves which they loved, and which immediately established me as a hero. In fact, when I was done working out with them, they picked up my shoes and carried them inside for me - a sign of great respect. These kids are not your average kids. They are so polite and respectful, so well-behaved... They practice for hours each day, they are so disciplined. It's amazing. It's so hard for me to believe they were once on the street, or are living in a shelter in hand-to-mouth conditions. They work hard, keep their surroundings clean... The man who runs the shelter is a truly good man, and he has taught the children well. They are far better behaved than most American children.
Youko teaches them English and then I help them practice acrobatics. Sometimes we take a break to sing songs, or swim in the nearby stream. The Swahili language doesn't have the "er" sound, so they call me "Fi-fah" in a thick Swahili accent.
The job is what I want to make of it - I could simply play with the kids, I could paint the building, I could help them advertise... They are a nonprofit, with little funding. They sell vegetables from their garden and some livestock to support themselves, and they get small donations whenever they are able to perform at local hotels. One of the volunteers is turning 25 next week, so I have arranged for the kids to perform at the party, which should help them make a little bit of money. (They are creating a special birthday routine for her - really sweet.)
The man who runs the shelter attended a college of arts - where he learned acrobatics. He started by teaching a few street kids, and soon others joined. It was his way of keeping them off the streets He hopes to add music and art to their learning and repertoire, but he doesn't have anyone to teach them those things right now. During the school year, he sends them to school.
Since I can do whatever I want, I have decided to think big and focus on one goal: to fly the kids to the USA for a week, to study with professional acrobats. It would not only be thrilling for the kids, but it would show them that there is a future in their talents if they continue to work hard. It will also be a source of great publicity here in Tanzania, and once people hear that these kids got to go to America on a trip, more people will ask them to perform (meaning more revenue), and more kids will want to join the shelter (meaning fewer kids on the street). I will have to raise about $20,000 to cover airfare... the rest will fall into place. I have already contacted Cirque du Soleil. I didn't tell them my exact plan - I just sent a brief email asking who I would contact for support. They wrote back that they get many requests, but that helping street children is their top priority. And seriously - how many street children are there in the world that specialize in acrobatics? I've got to figure we are a shoe-in for some help from them. This could not be a more perfect match. I've just got to write up an effective proposal. Wish me luck. And please check out their website. www.tunahaki.com
This weekend I'm going to spend a night with a Maasai Warrior tribe where we will sacrifice a goat. (They're going to sacrifice the goat whether I go or not, so I figure what the heck...) They are one of the oldest tribes in Africa. I've been reading a great biography of the continent, and I'm learning that mankind was born very near to where I am. Australopithecus, Homo Sapiens... it all started here, and we are all descended from one woman who lived on these lands. When I read these chapters at sunrise (I've been getting up early and going out to read on the water tower - with a great view of Kilimanjaro), I have to admit, I sorta get the chills. It's so easy to picture early man evolving here. It's hard to explain, but there's something about the land here that makes you feel very close to the planet and to history. It's a very different feeling from back home.
Salama.
Begin forwarded message:
Subject: I just saw a man carrying an AK47
Mambo!
I woke up Saturday morning to find that it had snowed overnight atop Kilimanjaro. It was like Christmas! (Of which there is no sign, by the way. I think it's just a one-day event here, instead of a month long commercial affair.)
Saturday a group of my fellow volunteers and I drove to a Maasai village. The Maasai are one of the oldest tribes in Africa, and they have changed little over the centuries. En route to their village, I saw camels, whirlwinds (mini-tornadoes in the dirt), and took in much air pollution (gas is mostly diesel here - a real shame).
I will tell you in advance that there is no way I can do justice in describing my experience with the Maasai. They are a tribe of warriors, agriculturalists, and pastoralists. The village we visited were pastoralists (livestock). To this day, they believe all cows belong to them, so if there is a drought and their cows die - look out - they will come and try to claim your cows (not that many of you reading this have to worry about that, I suppose.)
When we arrived a small group of children ran out to meet us. It was raining, so we waited in our Jeep for the rain to pass, and they stood out under one of their huts, waving, anxious for us to get out. They are very kind children. And very dirty children. It's a Save the Children poster come to life. The beautiful faces, covered in flies. We were greeted by the elder chief, and we presented him with bags of 2nd hand clothing for the children which we had purchased on route for the children. It's odd to see them all walking around in dirty Old Navy and Gap clothes.
They then dressed us in traditional Maasai warrior garb - I had several colorful togas and a spear (my colleagues took photos, which will provide you all with much amusement at my expense I am sure.)
We walked the land - gorgeous - rolling hills with big open skies, where they grow coffee, maize, sunflowers, tobacco... It's so, so beautiful. Many of the children accompanied us on the walk. One boy, Solomon, who I suspect might be 9 or 10 (he didn't seem to know, or didn't understand my question, and it's so hard to tell how old kids are here, so many of them are so small, presumably from malnourishment). He took my hand and was a natural teacher - pointing at everything, and telling me what it was. I didn't know what he was pointing to half the time, or what language he was giving me (they speak Swahili and their own language), but he was so sweet and natural about it, I would just repeat the word and nod my head.
The evening was surreal. The entire village (maybe 150?) joined around our fire and started chanting. First the men. Deep, guttural, nasal chanting, sometimes accompanied by hopping, and much laughter. Later, the women did their own chanting. And then the children. All at once... and this went on for over 3 hours. We joined in - they were very impressed with my ability to mimic their chanting sound (my throat was so sore when I went to bed!) There was lightning illuminating the mountains in the sky far off... it was beyond magical. Kids took our hands, they would gather round, dozens at a time... again, asking me my name and the name of my parents and siblings. (Family is extremely important here in Tanzania.) Some of the volunteers were hesitant to touch the kids too closely - they were so dirty, and many were coughing. But I couldn't refuse them. Late at night, one toddler I hadn't seen yet sidled up to me and took my hand. His was so small in mine, and the contrast in skin color could not have been stronger. It was quite moving. He had a terrible cough and was quite dirty. As I see it, I didn't get all those travel shots for nothing, so why be afraid. Many tourists visit the Maasai, and I've never heard of any coming down with Tuberculosis, so I'm not worried.
I don't think the kids get fed enough. I never saw them eat while I was there, though I presume they did at some point. But they were clearly hungry and thirsty. We had a full meal prepared for us by our guides (whom we paid to arrange the weekend), and we ate in full view of the children. This was most uncomfortable, as you might imagine. Later in the evening, I opened a package which my friends Rami and Najla had packed for me, and it was filled with Lebanese candies, which I was able to pass out to my favorite children throughout the night, making them very happy (and occasionally starting a small riot when other kids caught on...)
I won't go into the details of the dental situation here. If there are any dentists in Tanzania, not many can afford them.
After hours of chanting and dancing, we camped out right next to their huts (which are made from mud and cow dung, by the way.) It was incredibly windy through the night, and really cold in the morning (which was a welcome change from the heat the day before).
In the morning, I was greeted by donkeys, stunning eagles (different looking from ours), and a puppy named Simba. You're not supposed to pet the animals here, because of the chance of rabies, but this puppy was a safe bet and I pet him a few times - to the amusement of the Maasai. Pets are not treated as family in Tanzania. Sometimes small kids pet puppies or kittens, but even that is not the norm.
We were treated to a lecture on Maasai culture later in the morning. Women do all the work and men basically sit around all day. (This may sound familiar to some of you.) There are some elders who have never done anything their whole life. They are responsible for building their own hut (women build their own). But once they've done that, all they have to do is watch the cows - which they send the boys to do. The women do everything else - cooking, child rearing, getting the firewood, milking the cows, getting the water from the far-away well... It's amazing. (The water they drink is very muddy, by the way. Hard to imagine drinking it.)
The skies were so beautiful - wide open plains, with fluffy white clouds. The skies here are truly a sight to behold. Every vista, no matter where I look, is more amazing than the next.
After lunch, it was time for the goat sacrifice. I was debating whether to watch or not, but ultimately decided I should experience it. It was very humane. They asked if I wanted to help, but I just watched. After it was dead, they skinned it, ate the testicles and heart raw, then cooked the rest. I was the only member of our group who actually ate some. (Chewy, but good).
We also visited their medicine man in his hut. A very old man, but with a nice laugh, who appreciated it every time I spoke a Maasai word to him. During his talk (translated to us by our guide), a chicken kept trying to fly in the hut right by my head. I can only surmise that he thought it was a giant egg in need of hatching.
I was only there for one night, but when I got back to my 'home' in Moshi, I felt as if I had been gone a week. I feel the same way about my entire stay here, actually. I've been here just over a week, but it feels more like a month. I think this is because I am taking in so much information... there is so much to process... to see, to hear, to feel... All of which I did in enormous amounts this weekend. The other volunteers are all saying the same thing. I guess our brains can't imagine processing so much in such a short time, so we all feel as if we've been here longer than we have.
My email time here is limited, but I enjoy hearing from you all. Will write again when I get a chance. I'm sure I'll have something new to share.
Lala Salama.
Begin forwarded message:
Subject: In Tanzania, 6 o'clock is 12 o'clock and 7 o'clock is 1 o'clock. So not only do you have to translate the time in Swahili, you also have to do a math calculation! (Luckily, most also understand 'mzungu' time.)
Just a quick hello this time. Just finished hearing a lecture about rights of passage in Tanzania. There is so much tradition here - the most modern people driving nice cars and talking on their cell phone are the same people who owe their uncles 2 goats and a cow for insulting someone's wife, or who shun men for life if they shout or even wince when being circumcised without anesthesia. There is still witchcraft and healers and diviners.... You might be interested to know that after a woman gives birth (the only time she is pampered), when she finally goes out in public again, her husband will get a lot of grief if his wife is not fat. If she is thin, people will harass him for not taking proper care of her after the great gift of a child. Thus the fatter, the better. Even though I'm very tired, especially so on hot days, these lectures are fascinating. Some of their traditions are cruel and dangerous, but others are beautiful and life-affirming. It's a very complicated culture which I will not be able to fully understand in my short time here.
Having a great time with the TunaHAKI kids. Today I brought them juice and cookies as a special treat for all the hard work they are doing, and they were really excited and happy. One of my fellow volunteers is having a birthday party tomorrow night, and I arranged for the kids to perform at the dinner. They've learned a special speech in English, and they've been practicing 'Happy Birthday' in English while holding a group acrobatic pose. It's really touching.
I've been asking them to tell me about themselves - either in writing, or in person to the man who runs the center - and he translates for me. I'll leave you with some of their own words.
Have a great holiday season.
Winifrida:
I was born 14 years ago at Uru village in Kilimanjaro region. I expect to join secondary education next year 2006 and I am an orphan. I was grown up under my grandmother's care on the side of my mother. All my parents are dead. I know nothing in detail about my mother or my father because they left me while I was unable to memorize each and every thing. My grandmother is greatly aged and very poor, and she couldn't manage to care, so I was roaming the village asking for help. Then I was referred to TunaHAKI. Now I dream to be a professional artist, therefore I request good friends to support and sustain our acrobatic group. We need tools and vehicle and education support and permanent home. I want to visit poor orphans like me and give back ideas. Our building has no tap water and this is making us uncomfortable, so I would hope for support for this too. TunaHAKI gives me togetherness.
Suzan:
I was born 13 years ago. My father died and my mother is always in the hospital, so I lived on the streets with my young brother Jackson. I want to visit other kids in the world especially the poor ones. I expect to travel to different countries with a tour group to teach and develop my talents. It makes me feel good to show and teach others. Acrobatics make me feel free.
Sadiki:
I was born 12 years ago. I came to TunaHAKI with my sister Anna and brothers Abdul and Emmanuel after the loss of my mother and the abandonment of my father. We were forced to live on the street. I want to learn to be a professional artist, especially acrobatic. Education is very important. Performing encourages me to develop my talents. TunaHAKI keeps us together.
Emmanuel:
I was born 10 years ago. Anna and I are twins. Abdul and Sadiki are my brothers. TunaHAKI makes me feel loved.
Anna:
I was born 10 years ago. My plan in future is to teach other children. Street children have good talents. I expect to be famous artist in the world. I want to travel to different countries to see how they do acrobatics. Acrobatics empower. I am very proud to perform as a girl. Girls can! It helps me expect a good future. TunaHAKI is happiness.
Abdul:
I was born 15 years ago. Acrobatics makes me feel like a star. It helps me build friendship. TunaHAKI keeps me safe and removes me from difficulties. And it allows me to stay with my family, after the loss of my mother and abandonment of my father. I need to learn how to design props and costumes and build a stage. I hope we get a permanent home where many people can come and see us perform.
Nakindya:
I was born 11 years ago. I was left in the care of my mother who is very poor. I know nothing of my father. I was found roaming the central market asking for help and a volunteer told me about TunaHAKI. I hope our group never dies. TunaHAKI feels like home. I like acrobatics because children have a right to play.
Begin forwarded message:
Subject: I think a giraffe just winked at me.
Greetings from sunny Africa!
First of all let me say that I am typing on some foreign keyboard and nothing is where it is supposed to be, so please forgive any typographical errors - My Internet time is limited and I don't have enough time to make sure the typing is pretty.
I'm just a bit over half-way through my trip, which is very hard for me to believe. I've experienced so much in the past two weeks that it feels like two months, and I can't imagine another two weeks of the same. I'm told that the second half of these trips goes much more quickly and that the days will now fly by. Guess I'll have to wait and see.
Last Wednesday night my kids (the acrobats) performed at a birthday party for one of my fellow volunteers who was departing after being here for a couple months. I was nervous for them, worried that people might not think they were good enough (I had never seen them put on a full show), but my worries were for naught. They were the big hit of the evening! Everyone loved them and I raised $150 in t-shirt sales and donations for them. They had dinner with us afterward and everyone was so impressed by how polite and well-behaved they are. The kids were very proud of themselves, and deservedly so. It was a great evening.
The next day CCS (Cross Cultural Solutions - the group I came here with) took us to the city of Arusha. We visited an HIV-AIDS support center, where a man with HIV spoke to us. I was previously unaware that the strain of HIV is different here than in America. Here it is easily passed from a woman to a man and from a man to a woman, and of course from mother to child in utero. We hear the AIDS statistics in Africa all the time back home, but it is quite another experience to hear about them when you are in the thick of it. It's quite sad. From there we went to a hospice run by nuns. We met one man, 3 women, and 6 small children, all of whom had AIDS. I was overcome with emotion. The woman who led our 'tour' - I'm not sure if she is a nun or an administrator - but she was very pretty and had the sweetest, softest voice - One of those people you instantly like - Just hearing her talk about the hospice and the patients, how all the children there had lost their parents to AIDS and would live in the hospice from now on - the contrast of her soft voice and the sad facts.... It was all I could do not to break out in tears. The man was very happy - the drugs were working and he was getting out the next day to spend the day with his family. The women did not look to be faring as well. One was rail-thin, but had the biggest smile, especially when I spoke Swahili to her (limited though it is). Learning some Swahili before I got here was the best thing I did in preparation for this trip. People really appreciate it, and I find that they warm up to me much quicker than they otherwise might. (It also helps get me better prices when shopping!) A lot of people ask where I learned the language, and when I tell them I've picked it up in the past few weeks after teaching myself, they are really impressed and then go out of their way to be more helpful. (I try to learn one or two new phrases a day. Recent additions include "The fruit is delicious", "I am very happy to meet you", and "Too expensive! Lower the price!", all of which have proven quite useful.)
When I got to the children's room, there were 5 or 6 of them, all on one big bed, sleeping, baking in the hot sun. They started to wake up, and I sang the only Swahili children's song I know... They really lit up. We sang it 3 or 4 times before I had to leave. I could still hear them singing it and laughing as we left the building. They were so adorable. One girl had sores all over her scalp, and flies were buzzing about them. Luckily, one of our volunteers is a nurse and she brought some medicine from back home to get rid of the sores, and she gave a whole bunch of it to the hospice. I am considering going back there around New Year's and maybe volunteering there for a day or two, after my own placement ends. It's an hour and a half away, but those kids were too sweet not to visit at least once more, and I know they could use a pair of extra hands around there, if only for a short while. Many volunteers hop around from placement to placement, where appropriate. One of our volunteers left after only a few days (her luggage got lost, she was young, eating raw food only, didn't believe in insect repellant... really sweet girl, but she was never going to fit in.) Another volunteer nearly left last week, but she ended up staying. She was temporarily overwhelmed by the intensity of it all and she missed her husband and her safe and comfy home... but she stuck it out and now is very happy she did not give in. Personally, I'm very happy to be here and appreciating every minute of it (not that I don't miss you all.)
At night we went to Pete O'Neals (O'Neils?). You should Google him. He's a former Black Panther leader from Kansas City who is a US exile. He jumped bail back in the early 70's and would be arrested if he returned to the states. He now lives here and is doing wonderful work for the Tanzanian community, specializing in education and the arts. He's quite a character. He went of safari with Sean Penn and family last year, and is going again with Jude Law and family tomorrow. He invited us all to his home for a big New Year's party and I instantly blurted you that I would attend. How could I not? The thought of me... attending a New Year's party in Tanzania at the home of an exiled Black Panther... I just have one question - Who am I and whose life am I leading? (I guess that's 2 questions, technically.) It's all so surreal sometimes.
When we got home, it was night, and people were out in the streets celebrating. It was election day the day before (a national holiday so everyone can go vote), and the results were just coming in. At home, the sight of a hundred black youths surrounding vans in the middle of the street at night might give one reason to be wary - and I have to admit that I had some butterflies in my stomach when one guy jumped on our van - but here it was all in fun and celebration. It was great to be a part of it.
This is such a land of contrasts. Gorgeous scenery everywhere, but terrible pollution. The air quality is quite poor - they use diesel gas, and they do not have any organized trash disposal system. People just toss their garbage outside, sometimes burning it, or leaving it for the goats to chew on.
I took the weekend off and went on Safari with 2 of my fellow volunteers. We started at Lake Manyara (which is hardly a lake anymore). The 2nd day we were at the Ngorogoro Crater (which used to be very cold and foggy at the rim, but is now merely cool due to global warming. - It's funny - back home you always hear that there are 2 sides to the story, how some people question whether global warming really exists... Come to Africa for 5 minutes and talk to the locals and you will no longer have any question.) The third day we went to Tangire National Park. I think the Crater was my favorite. It is enormous - scientists believe it was once a mountain the size of Kilimanjaro, and that it collapsed about 4 million years ago, just as man was learning to walk. This is the area where lots of the famous fossils have been found. It is now a GIANT crater filled with wild animals.
Our guide was great - he can spot animals like you would not believe. If you've seen the movie, 'What the Bleep', they tell the story of some Island natives from many years ago who could not see the European ships sailing up to their shores. Even though the ships were right in front of them, the natives couldn't see them, because their brains could not comprehend such things existed, therefore it was if they were invisible. I never really believed that story until this weekend. There were wild animals right in front of me - huge giraffes and elephants - and even though I've seen them in the zoo and on TV - I could not see them standing right in front of me. And not just because they were camouflaged or hidden - I really think my brain couldn't imagine them standing in the road in front of me and therefore my eyes couldn't see them until pointed out to me several times. It was wild.
Sidebar: Another man just walked into this Internet cafe carrying an AK47. I'm guessing he is some sort of police. At least I hope he is. Maybe I should walk up to him and start singing that Swahili children's song?
Saw lots of other animals this weekend - the baboons are hysterical - very social. They're even out on the highway, playing, watching cars pass by. They also broke into one of the museums inside park grounds, and since animals rule in the park, there is nothing anyone can do. The animals are truly running the zoo. We saw mongooses (though I prefer to call them mongeese), lions, zebras, wildebeest, hippos.... The rhinos, leopards and cheetahs eluded us. And the birds! If I lived here I would have to become a bird-watcher. They are amazing. Even the most common birds here are absolutely stunning. Even the common crow has a gorgeous white crest around its neck, and the starlings are the brightest shade of electric blue... This morning at the campground, I heard the wind come up quickly, only to look up and see there was no wind at all - it was a giant flock of low flying birds swooping over me.
They safari guides neglected to mention that one of the parks is overrun with tsetse flies. I had slight paranoia when they filled our Jeep and I learned that they can give you sleeping sickness. I instantly threw on another layer of my Buzz Off clothing and plenty of insect repellant. My friend Janet got bitten by one, but I came out unscathed. Hopefully she will not get sick.
These little dangers are all part of the fun I guess. My Internet time is about to expire so I must sign off. This weekend some of my colleagues are taking a trip to Zanzibar to spend time on the beautiful beaches. That doesn't sound very Christmas-y to me, so I am going to stick around my village of Moshi. I think I may volunteer at the local orphanage on the 24th. I had originally wanted an orphanage placement (but am happy I didn't get it for many reasons, which I'll write about in a future email), and I think it would be nice to spend the 24th with them. On the 25th, I hope to spend time with my TunaHAKI kids. I have some gifts I brought from the states, and I think I can make it a special day for them.
Have a great week. You'll be hearing from me soon.
Begin forwarded message:
Subject: Krismasi Njema (and Happy Summer Solstice)
Season's Greetings all - though here the season is summer. The days are not longer during summer. I suspect this is due to my proximity to the equator. The moon is often out during the daytime, which is just one more addition to the spectacular vistas of Africa. People are out on the street now selling some Christmas decorations, and there is some pretty bad Xmas music playing on radios throughout town (Muzak, or really bad country and western). One thing I have missed on this trip is good African music. They don't play any music where I live, and the radios around town play Celine Dion or bad instrumental music. Sometimes I hear Tanzanian rap music, which is good. I should ask the kitchen staff at my home base if I can borrow their radio sometime and maybe I can find some good local music.
Most of the other volunteers are away for a Christmas getaway, or have left to return home for good, so it is getting quiet at home base. My TunaHAKI colleague Yuoko had to resort to Cipro for a stomach bug, my friend Trang got dozens of spider bites up and down her arm, one girl got chiggers in her foot (you don't want to know)... but in all honesty, they are the exception to the rule. I get one or two mosquito bites a week, and my roommate has yet to get any.
There are a handful of volunteers from Great Britain, and I just now learned that one of them quit her job and sold her house to come here and volunteer. I was so impressed when I heard that. She came for 12 weeks and she works at the local orphanage (which is a poorly run and hopeless place from what I'm told - I will see for myself on Xmas morning.) She is very attached to the kids and is already traumatized by the thought of leaving them. One in particular, Mary, is a 13 year old girl who has not yet been told that she is HIV positive. (She is going to be told soon, apparently.)
The children all look much younger than they really are. 10 year olds look 6; 16 year olds look 12. I assume this is due to malnutrition in early childhood. Yet I see plenty of tall adults, so maybe they all get growth spurts later, if they are lucky enough to get proper nutrition later in life. In general, the adults all look much older than their years. The difficulties they endure daily show in their faces. They say 'black don't crack' in America, but black definitely do crack here.
Insect of the week: Some creepy elongated wasps that were taking up residence alongside a florescent light bulb in the local municipal building.
Other random facts:
American money is easily used here, but they will only take the new bills with the big faces. They think our old money isn't good anymore and there is no convincing them otherwise. And if it has a slight tear in it, it's as good as trash.
There are so many noises throughout the night, it is nearly impossible to get a good night's sleep. Somehow I'm not tired, though. If I wake particularly early, I can hear the Muslim call to prayer. The chanting echoes from clear across town. When I hear that, I know for sure I'm not in Kansas anymore. I'm told that the population here is 60% Muslim, but I have only met a few. (Our driver is Muslim. He was 28 when he married his 16 year old bride. He is allowed 3 more wives, but he says one is enough.) Most everyone I meet is Christian. Maybe the Muslims live in a different part of town. I walked inside one Iranian mosque just to see what it looked like, and it was a store inside - they were selling plastic bottles and fake flowers and new pots and pans... Not like the mosques back home, that's for sure.
A wedding just passed down the street as I type this. It's a long parade of cars and trucks, with a marching band on the back of one truck and lots of people waving. They are quite common in the streets and very colorful.
Speaking of divorce, when it occurs here, men get the house and the kids. Women leave with nothing. Therefore most women stay in marriages, even abusive ones. It's not a good situation. I'm told there is one woman in our neighborhood who sued for divorce, and got custody of the kids and the house. You've got to figure she is a living legend among Tanzanian women.
We went on a field trip earlier this week to the base of Kilimanjaro. We started by visiting caves which were built 300 years ago by Chagga tribes, who were at war with the Maasai. The caves go all the way to Kenya. We crawled down one to see where the Chagga lived to hide from Maasai. They were tiny caves - claustrophobics need not apply. Luckily, my plank walk from my California exercise program came in very handy (sort of like being at the bottom of a push-up and walking on all fours). Some of the volunteers freaked out a bit - it was pitch black and who knows what we were putting our hands into as we crawled, but it was a one-of-a-kind experience. A guide led us down there and would you believe he got a call on his cell phone down there? The reception on cell phones is much better here - When I asked how often they lost calls or got cut off, he didn't understand what I was talking about - It doesn't happen here. How is it that we have running water, satellite radio, and cable TV, but they have better cell phone reception? When I got out of the caves, one of the local kids wiped the dirt off my clothes. Can you imagine an American kid doing that for a stranger? In general, African children are very respectful. There are exceptions, of course, but overall I'm quite impressed.
We saw a pig on the way to the caves. On the way back, its head was chopped off and it's body was already on the grill. Had I known his fate, I would have at least asked if there were any last squeals I could pass on to his loved ones.
We then walked through a market where I saw endless piles of green bananas - it was a sight to see. Then, old women with buckets and buckets of peeled bananas, which were to be used to make their 'local brew'. (Beer, by the way, is 78 cents a bottle here, and I'm told it's quite good. Soda is 25 cents a bottle.)
We walked by fields of coffee, bananas, maize and tobacco, which seem to be the 4 big agricultural staples here.
We then hiked down to a waterfall - it was one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. Not sure if you would call it a jungle or a rainforest, but I am sure you would call it paradise. One of the other volunteers and I went in for a swim and it was exhilarating. There were butterflies floating through the air, and the spray from the powerful falls... It was so easy to imagine early man bathing in this very spot, as it looked untouched for millennia. Really great spot. (There was another gorgeous spot in Ngorogoro Crater when I went on safari last weekend - it was the Hippo Pool - and it was a mini lake in the middle of the crater, with one giant tree and hundreds of beautiful birds (and hippos)... One of the prettiest spots I have ever seen.)
Speaking of safaris... The TunaHAKI kids have never been. So I decided it would be fun to take them. Yuoko and I chipped in a couple hundred each, and we took all the kids, plus their guardian, David. We also took the British volunteer and young Mary from the orphanage. None of the kids had ever seen wild animals before. We didn't tell them in advance - we just sent cars to pick them up. The TunaHAKI kids couldn't understand why they were going somewhere without their performance equipment. When they got to the homebase to pick Yuoko and me up, they figured it out, and they started jumping up and down like you wouldn't believe. We went to Arusha National Park, which isn't the greatest park in terms of variety of animals, but it is close and can be done in a day. And, like everywhere else around here, the land is gorgeous. The kids were thrilled by the giraffes, zebra, pink flamingos, antelope, blue monkeys, black and white colobus monkeys, warthogs, water buffalo.... The best part of it, for me, was when David walked up to me at one of the rest spots and said "This is an unforgettable day." Like all the children, he had never seen wild animals, either.
He works so hard for these kids. Last Monday, I joined him and 15 year old Abdul for a walk into town. They spent hours just trying to collect the soap was promised them by the government for their Independence Day performance 2 weeks ago. In the end, they got $5. They expect another $15, but they have to come back for that another time. Lots of government red tape here, but without the paperwork. Lots of waiting, being referred to other people, told to come back after the elections, or when it rains, or after someone's goat has given birth... (I exaggerate, but only slightly.) David is so busy caring for the kids (if it took that long just to get $5 for soap, imagine how long it takes to do everything else), that he can't really focus on the things he needs to do to keep TunaHAKI going. That's where I have been able to help. In two quick visits to a local hotel, I was able to talk to the manager and convince them to put up flyers for TunaHAKI in their hotel, so that various groups might ask them to perform. This simple act could lead to a considerable increase in income for the kids, and it only took me a short amount of time. David just doesn't have the spare time to do this sort of thing.
Today I was informed that I'm holding a press conference next Wednesday. David and the TunaHAKI charity/business advisor, Mr. ChaCha, have spoken to the local media, and they have decided to publicize my dream to bring the children to America for a week or two. They will discuss it on TV and radio in the hopes that local businesses will contribute to the fund. So, if you get the local Moshi station on your satellite dish, please look for me. I'll be the white guy.
Turns out it cost $100 to throw a press conference, but ChaCha is giving half, and David will cover the other half. (CCS does not allow us to contribute money directly during our volunteer time.)
What David does not yet know, however, is that next week is the start of Chanukah, and my young friends Alec, Ben & Hank Gaylord are contributing $50 of their Chanukah money to TunaHAKI. So I will be able to give David the money to pay for TunaHAKI's share of the press conference. When I do, I intend to tell them about Alec and Ben and Hank (they love hearing stories about kids from other places), and I will try to tell them about Chanukah (I'm not sure there are any Jews here, so I'm not sure how educated they will be on the subject.) They will be very appreciative, to be sure.
After we walked through town, I took David and Abdul to the internet cafe. We Googled the word 'acrobats' and I was able to show them various acrobatic poses from around the world. They don't get a chance to do this sort of thing, so they were both excited, taking notes so they could copy certain moves and poses. Abdul sighed and said he wished he could have the proper equipment for training so they could do half of the stuff other acrobats can do, but he didn't linger on it. He just studied the photos even harder to try and think of other creative ways to copy the poses.
We also walked through a plot of land in the middle of town, which was once a beautiful park. Now it's an abandoned field with ruins of old fountains and statues. David tells me that the money for such things go to politicians and rarely trickle down to where they are supposed to go. Not unlike America, I suppose.
Sidebar before I forget: We had a lecture at the beginning of the week about spirits and witch doctors. It was fascinating. Most fascinating of all is that EVERYONE, even the most advanced, modern, progressive, pro-women's rights, ant-poverty, cell-phone talking, internet-savvy, hippest dressed men, women and children - they all believe in magical arts. Even if they say they don't really believe, when you ask them again, they say "I guess maybe I believe. Yes." They believe that the witch doctors can fly (which they apparently do in baskets, naked, by the way.) There are stories of things going awry, and naked travelers falling out of the sky into groups of people on the ground. Also stories of witches stealing children, making it appear as if they are dead, but she really kidnaps them as slaves. If you ask around Moshi, everyone says they know a girl, Katherine, who died and was buried (they saw her "dead" body), but who was later found in the home of a witch (who had gotten sloppy in her spells, making Katherine temporarily visible to others. Katherine's parents got wind of it, went and got a famous witch doctor to undo the witch's magic, and now Katherine is back at home and in school.) There are also stories of spirits speaking through bowls of corn and maize (a popular way for spirits to communicate, apparently. Though if they knew about Africa's great cell phone reception, I bet they'd transfer carriers from a bowl of corn to AT&T in no time.) One of the witch doctors has a website and wants to share his ancient talents with the world. I will investigate when I get home, to be sure.
Today at TunaHAKI, we went outside, cut down a giant tree branch, stripped it of its leaves, then brought it inside where it became a Christmas tree. The children made paper chains from an old magazine, and made ornaments from tin foil and old food wrappers.
One of my fellow volunteers, Becca (an 18 year old who is the spitting image of Natalie Portman) asked me how I felt about my trip here, and without thinking, the first word that popped out of my mouth was 'full'. Not full in stomach (though I do think I have gained a few pounds here), but my eyes, my ears, my spirit, certainly my heart for all these children... I just feel full, every second of the day.
It wonder if it will be strange to go back home. When I think of Los Angeles, I feel like I haven't been there in about a year. And I say that with no exaggeration. I more than half-expect my apartment to be filled with cobwebs, my friends to be married with new children, new jobs... When I realize I've only been gone a few weeks, I truly feel as if I am trapped in some alternate dimension.
Tomorrow (the 24th) I am going to church with my TunaHAKI kids. They asked if I would go with them, and it turns out they are 7th Day Adventists, who apparently go to church on Saturdays. (I'm not sure if the TunaHAKI kids go every Saturday, or just on holidays.) In any case, it will be fun to hear a Swahili service, and I am bringing a tape recorder to record the Swahili Christmas songs.
On the 25th, I am going to the orphanage in the morning, to see it for myself, and to spread a little Christmas cheer among the 5 year olds. Then I will go to TunaHAKI again, to bring the kids some presents I brought from home, open 2 boxes of Christmas crackers I picked up in Arusha for them, and then we will all have dinner. I'm told Christmas in Moshi involves a lot of music and dancing. Though it won't likely feel like Christmas on the outside (90 and humid), it will undoubtedly feel like Christmas on the inside.
Krismasi Njema, everyone.
Begin forwarded message:
Subject: I maimed a lizard by accident on Christmas morning and the leg kept wiggling after I cut it off
Holiday greetings from the hottest Christmas of my life.
Last night the kids gave a Christmas Eve acrobatic performance at a hotel in town. The kids aren't usually physically affectionate with me, but when they saw me arrive at the hotel, they all rushed me yelling 'Fif-ah' and gave me hugs and were clearly happy to see me. They put on a great show and made $100 in contributions, which is really good. Someone also gave them a soccer ball, which thrilled them more than the money, I think.
This morning (Christmas morning), I went to the local orphanage with the 2 other volunteers who stayed behind for Xmas. I had heard terrible stories about the orphanage, but on Xmas, the kids (mostly 3-6 year olds, with some babies and a few older kids) were all dressed up in their Sunday best and were being well cared for by the aids. (Usually the kids are left to fend for themselves, peeing and pooping all over themselves, unwashed, given little to drink since the orphanage can't afford diapers). These kids are so starved for love, they rushed each of us to hold them. I had 6 on my legs, another 4 on each arm, a couple on my back... all calling me Baba ("father"). One kid was kind of bratty, pushing other kids and hitting me... He was not my favorite... But later I found him alone in the courtyard and I walked over to him and he buried his head in my legs, and I just stroked his back, and we stood there like that for a good 5 minutes. He just wanted someone to give him one-on-one attention, someone to hold him, someone to love him.
Another kid, about 2 1/2, took a shine to me, and he cried and cried when I left him. (I'm told he can be quite a demon and is often mean to the other kids, which made me (slightly) less guilty about leaving him.
Later I went to TunaHAKI for Xmas dinner. Mama Baraka (David's wife, who by the way is nursing their small child and has the largest breasts in Africa which she whips out freely to feed young Marta) prepared a feast. It was the first time I'd eaten at someone's home and I was a little worried I might eat the wrong thing and get sick, but I think she only gave me the cooked food, which is safe (including the "pet" duck which I had often seen wandering the house and part of whom is now in my stomach).
Friday, the kids cut a big branch from a nearby plot of land, and that became the Christmas tree. They stuck it in a pot of dirt, decorated it with tin foil and a paper-chain made from an old magazine - the most home-made tree you could imagine, but in a way, the best tree I have ever seen.
Saturday I went to church with David, Abdul & Baraka. The other kids either don't go to church, or would go to different churches on Sunday. I've been to 2 church services since I've been here, and I have to say they are pretty boring. I was hoping for joyous, lively celebrations, but it's more like 2-3 hours of preaching in Swahili, with the occasional hymn thrown in. Still, I'm glad I went, just to experience it.
Okay... Back to today... After Xmas dinner, I gave the kids Christmas crackers (not cookies, but the British decorations that have small toys and a paper hat hidden inside). The kids had never seen them before, and they got a big kick out of them. I also gave them t-shirts, pens, and small toys which I had brought from home. Although the kids liked the gifts, I think they were most excited when I gave presents to David and his wife. I gave David one of my insect-repellant shirts, and the kids were so excited, thrilled he would be protected from malaria. (He was really excited too. He's such a nice man, with the most genuine smile and laugh. Turns out he's my age, though he looks about 15 years older. I am so pleased when I can do things for him, though his only concern is the kids.)
Then the kids got all dressed up, and I walked with them into town. David gave them each pocket money, and they headed to town on their own to spend it. As we walked the 2 miles, they each took turns holding my hand. On one hand was always young Baraka (4), who has taken a real shine to me this past week, especially. (I think our relationship truly blossomed and became serious when I learned the Swahili words for "I am going to tickle you.")
As we walked, we sang Jingle Bells, and a Swahili song about gift-giving, and then we entered the center of town. It was remarkably free of cars and adults, but filled with children. At least 300 of them - unsupervised. It's the Christmas tradition here. Those children lucky enough to get pocket money for Xmas all go to town by themselves, most of them dressed in their finest clothes, and they buy ice-cream and popsicles, cookies, candy... It was strange to see a city of children.
Needless to say I stood out in the crowd. Several times I found myself surrounded by a dozen kids, who didn't say anything, but were probably hoping I would start giving out money or candy. (If I had, a riot would have ensued, so I just wished them a merry Christmas, until they left and the next group surrounded me.) One or two of the TunaHAKI kids always stayed near me to make sure I was okay. 2 of them even bought me ice-creams with their Christmas money - that will give you a sense of just how kind these kids are. I didn't know if the ice-cream was safe for me to eat, but I took a small bite so as not to hurt their feelings, then spit it out when they weren't looking. (It probably would have been fine for my system, but why risk it?)
I just realized today that the TunaHAKI kids don't have birthdays. They don't know when they were born, so they don't have a birthday. That really struck me. I had never considered that a child could grow up without a birthday. Even as I type this, it really hits a chord inside me. I know we take so much for granted - family, friends, and so many material things, but then you hear about kids who grow up without a birthday to call their own, and you realize there are things you didn't even know you were taking for granted. David said he was thinking about choosing one day during the year which could be everyone's birthday. I suggested he pick the day he founded TunaHAKI, or the day he registered as a charity or something like that, and every year they could have TunaHAKI day which could be everyone's birthday.
It's empty here at the homebase. We let the staff go for Xmas. Right now it's just me and the security guard, but the other 2 volunteers should be home from their dinner soon. I don't feel alone though - the neighbors are blasting popular Tanzanian music and I can hear them laughing and talking and dancing. It's a nice sound, and even though I can't understand the exact words, I certainly understand the spirit.
It's been a very nice Christmas and a great way to kick off my last week here.
Begin forwarded message:
Subject: People keep greeting me with 'Shikamoo'. Is it wrong I want to slap them?
'Shikamoo' is the greeting one gives to people in position of respect, but it is also a greeting reserved for elders, and I suspect I am getting it as much for the latter as for the former. I don't mind it from kids, but every time I get it from someone in their 20s, or God forbid 30s, I have a strong desire to either 1) start talking all street, and let loose with a little Jay-Z song as I lower my trousers and hike up my underwear so as to appear 'down with it', or 2) slug them. So far I have resisted the temptation to do both, but I still have a few days left.
Monday was Boxing Day, which is a national holiday here. I was the only volunteer to go to their placement. I taught the kids about Hanukah (to the best of my ability), and I had them do some arts and crafts and hang the results on their living room/bedroom wall.
On Tuesday, they had put up a pole for practicing special acrobatics. I was able to show them two new ways to climb it - with their legs straight out, and then upside down. These are ways I climb the rope back in L.A. - it's not quite as easy on a pole, and I haven't worked out in a month, but I was able to struggle to the top and they were impressed, and of course immediately tried to copy the moves and get it down for themselves. I love how eager they are to learn new things.
The kids now start running out and greeting me when I arrive in the morning. I see this as some terrible torture from God - just as I am about to leave, the kids are becoming more openly affectionate and attached to me.
One night I went to the home across the street from my homebase, where I was invited to have post-dinner tea and popcorn by Mama Nelson. She and her husband live with 4 children - 2 natural and 2 adopted. She is a full-time vet (treats mostly livestock and guard dogs), and a part-time seamstress. Her 4 kids are great, and they too are now running up to me with high-fives and hugs every time I approach. (Again, evil.) She was telling me how her brother died, and the sister-in-law became mentally ill, thus that's where one of the adopted children came from. I have heard of several similar cases at TunaHAKI, and so I finally asked why so many women become mentally ill - it seemed rather odd to me. She explained that after your husband dies, the stress of life is too much for many to bear. Women are often left with nothing. Everything goes to the family of the husband, and if people are poor, the widow and kids are often left to fend for themselves. These days, girls go to school, but in the older generations, girls did not go to school, so these widows have no skills enabling them to go out into the workplace. To top that off, some widows are handed over to their late husband's brothers for sex. In light of all that, the mentally ill thing doesn't seem so odd anymore. Mama Nelson's husband is a farmer, but every night he stops off at the local bar on the way home. I saw him when he got home, and he said he just had a quick beer - but it was 9 o'clock and he had definitely had more than one. Mama Nelson says there is an expression in Swahili that men need to drink away their hard life. If that's the case, the women deserve to be plastered 24/7.
(In their defense, I'm told that men drink because they are embarrassed that they can not care for their families better and they feel emasculated. But when they drink, they of course are only making the situation worse. A vicious cycle.)
Wednesday we held our press conference. There were 4 members of the media who came to TunaHAKI. They were from TV, radio and newspaper. I wrote up a statement for David to read to them, which he read both in English and Swahili. I included the story of Colman. He is 13 and a really great kid with a fantastic smile. 6 years ago his mother brought him to the Moshi bus stop and told him to wait for her. He waited there for a week but she never came back. Then he found his way to TunaHAKI, where he now dreams to be a professional artist. The media was moved by this story and they have since been recounting it on local radio. There is also an article in today's paper about my wish to bring the kids to America to train with professionals, asking for contributions (though they neglected to tell people how to contribute so I will ask if they can reprint the story). They are expected to run the story on TV tonight. They filmed me just for a few moments, but mostly they will show David and the kids. The kids put on a brief performance and the journalists were impressed. They told David that they have been to many orphanages and shelters for street kids, but they had never seen one like this, and that TunaHAKI will be a great institution one day. I felt that this was a special place, but I don't have much to compare it to, so it was heartwarming to get confirmation from the journalists that TunaHAKI is indeed as remarkable and deserving as I think it is. Did I mention in my last email that I was originally supposed to be placed at the orphanage but got switched to TunaHAKI at the last second? When I found this out last week, I went over and planted a big kiss on the young woman who was responsible for the last-minute switch. It was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Not 'one of'. It was the best.
Yesterday was my last regular day at TunaHAKI. I had decided that Friday (today) I would take them to the YMCA for swimming and lunch. So they treated Thursday as my official last day on the job. They sang me a Goodbye song in Swahili and English "Goodbye, Fifah, Goodbye"... I was really enjoying it, until I saw one of the older girls start crying as she sang. Her name is Winifrida and she doesn't do acrobatics, but she does do the traditional dancing. She does almost all the housework around the house and works so hard. I would not have guessed that she would be so sad to see me leave, and when I saw her crying, of course tears started to well in my own. Then I saw the boys wiping away tears, and, well, then there was no stopping it. They presented me with 2 gifts and Abdul (the eldest boy and my favorite - Sorta like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, he has been such a good friend to me, I think I will miss him the most) gave a speech in Swahili that was then translated for me. I was then expected to give a speech to them, but I couldn't get a word out for the longest time, and when I did... well, they were crying, I was crying... I wasn't expecting any of this, nor did I realize how hard it would hit me, but once I saw them wiping away the tears, I couldn't help myself. The gifts were really nice. They bought me a traditional African batik shirt - a really nice quality one. I hate that they spent their money on this, as I know they cannot afford it. They also made me a floor mat which I will hang on my wall back home - it has their handprints all over it - one for each child that they did themselves with crayon, and 'Thank you Fifer from TunaHAKI' written in big letters. After they gave it to me, the kids themselves even thought to wrap it up in newspaper and tape so I could carry it on the plane.
I am very happy that I planned the field trip to they YMCA for today. They love swimming, and it will shake off the sadness. I'm still a little worried about the moment when I have to say goodbye to them again, but hopefully they will be preoccupied with getting back on the bus and we won't have to have another goodbye. And I just keep reminding myself that I will see them in the States sometime in 2006, and that it's all good.
I am coming to accept the fact that I will now be a professional fundraiser for the rest of my life. I can't say it's my favorite activity, but it must be done. I will establish 6 different funds so donors can choose how they want their money spent:
1) The trip to America is my top priority. It will cost around $30,000 for airfare and expenses.
2) Purchase of land. David has picked out a half-acre spot on solid ground and near a main road, so that it will be accessible and safe for the children during the heavy rains. The land cost only $9,000.
3) A car. They have no transportation now and must walk everywhere. And they must hire transportation when they need to lug equipment to performances. A new van cost $20,000, but they could get a used one for $12,000.
4) Acrobatic equipment. They are using the most primitive rag-tag props and costumes, and have no proper training equipment. This cost could vary depending on quality and size, but they could use a good $15,000 worth of equipment to start.
5) Breaking ground on a new TunaHAKI Centre. Buildings go up slow in Tanzania as people save up money in increments. There are half finished constructions everywhere you look - like a city in ruins. They are all 'new' constructions, several years in the making. With $20,000, TunaHAKI could begin construction on a permanent home. (Ultimately, they dream of 2 dorms, one for boys and one for girls, a dining hall, a vocational center, and a theatre, including more room for more street children - all of which will cost around $300,000.)
6) Finally, I want to establish a birthday fund. We figured the cost of a birthday is $40 - $35 for new shoes, trousers and shirt (right now they only have used clothes), plus $2 in pocket money and $3 for party food and drink. Soon they expect to have 22 kids, which means $880 a year can give each kid a birthday.
Not sure yet how to decide on an actual day or days for the birthdays, but that will be the fun part which can come later. Maybe if I can get individuals to commit to $40 annually till their assigned kid turns 18, the donors could choose the date and truly 'give a kid a birthday'.
Well, off to the YMCA... If I start getting teary, I'll just jump in the water and no one will be the wiser.
Tomorrow I'm off to the exiled Black Panther's mountain hideaway for the New Year's party which I expect will be quite something.
Happy New Year everyone! (Forgot to learn how to say that in Swahili... Next email.)
Begin forwarded message:
Subject: Kwa Heri Kwa Sasa (Goodbye for Now)
It is my last night in Africa and there is the most beautiful new moon hanging low in the sky. And of course those stars. I thought it was a lunar eclipse because you can see the whole outline of the moon, but that is just how bright the night skies are here.
My last day with the TunaHAKI kids was fun. Swimming and lunch at the YMCA. I taught them how to play Marco Polo (which I renamed Tuna Haki) using the sleep mask I got on the airplane. They got to horse around with some other kids swimming in the pool. They really enjoy meeting 'regular' kids (non-orphans), because it makes them feel 'normal'. Abdul told David he was going to go home and write about their day in his journal so that he would never forget it. Amazing how a simple day at the YMCA can be a highlight of a kid's life. (I also got to show them the giant vultures which hang out near the YMCA, which they had never seen before, despite the fact that they only live a couple miles away.) On the bus home, I gave them stamped envelopes with my address on them so they can write to me whenever they want. I also gave them each a holiday card with a personalized note written in English. Even though they couldn't read what I wrote, they were just happy to get something written especially for them. When we dropped them off at home, there was no big goodbye -- We'd had enough of that. But when the bus pulled away, I turned around and saw that they had not even made it into the front door - they were all clamoring around David, asking him to translate each of their notes immediately. I, of course, was heartbroken to be leaving them, but it was great to see them distracted from my leaving with my own words that I had left behind for them. It was a happy day (for them) and a perfect way to end my placement.
New Year's Eve at the exiled Black Panther's was interesting. It was kind of slow - about 20 white folk in the main courtyard area and 80 or more locals hanging in the shadows, and they refused our attempts to get them on the dance floor. There were a few guys performing acoustic reggae. It seemed that the party was going to be a quiet one, but then at midnight, Pete O'Neal (the Panther) fired his shotgun, and EVERYONE started dancing and partying to hip-hop music. Had we known the party wouldn't start until midnight, we could have taken a nap earlier. I only lasted till 12:45, but the party continued on till 5AM. (By the way, Pete had just come back from safari in the Serengeti with Jude Law and family. He said Jude was very nice, and a good family man. I guess his wife has forgiven him for that sleeping-with-the-nanny business.)
On the 1st and the 2nd I went to St. Lucia's Hospice. It's a tiny place for adults and children with AIDS which I had visited briefly a couple weeks ago. There are 9 kids right now. When I was there before, they had just woken from their naps and we sang a song, and they were so gentle and sweet. Well.... I have now learned that kids with AIDS can be just as energetic as any other kid - they wore me out! Piggy back rides, tossing them in the air... I couldn't wait for their nap time to come! Despite lack of funding at this great little place, I was happy to see that they get plenty of food. A giant bowl of white rice (more than even I could eat), a spoonful of spinach, a couple bites of chicken, and a hint of shaved carrots and tomato. Another meal consisted of a big cup of hot white porridge.
Most seemed in good health. One girl, Rosie, was clearly in pain, but she squealed with delight every time I picked her up, so I tried to do it as much as possible despite my exhaustion. Rosie is the one who had flies all around her head sores last time I was there, and I am happy to report the sores have disappeared (thanks to an anti-biotic cream from America, a giant bag of which I brought to the hospice on behalf of another volunteer.) Another girl, Gertruda, is really small and has a skin problem on her face, but she has the greatest laugh and she laughs at everything. If you heard her, you would start laughing too, she is so happy. None of the kids know they have AIDS, though they know their parents have died from AIDS. One boy, James is new to the center, and they think he might know but they have not asked him. He's 12 (looks 7) and is a great rapper, complete with hand gestures and crotch grabbing. He's great.
Another one of the kids is named George Bush! I tried to play with him anyway.
This hospice is a very deserving, very loving place. If any of you are looking for somewhere to send the occasional coloring book or used clothing, I will gladly give you the address.
My 2nd day, the kind woman who runs the hospice asked me to accompany her on a home visit. We walked down a series of small dirt paths (how people ever find each other in Tanzania is beyond me) and arrived at the home of Margaret - a 50 year old woman with AIDS. She lives with her husband and extended family in a 'house' with no electricity (and no running water, of course.) There were newspaper articles on the mud walls, which I guess serve as artwork. One of the pages had photos of Kelly Clarkson and Beyonce and other pop stars whom I'm sure they don't even know. I can't help but wonder what these celebrities would think if they knew their picture was hanging inside a dark hut in deepest Africa? The contrast is unfathomable.
Margaret had been improving greatly with anti-viral drugs, and St. Lucia's was going to help her start a small business of her own, but now she refuses to take her medicine. Her family insists she no longer has AIDS, but is instead the victim of witchcraft. Margaret pulled off her shirt to show us how her skin was peeling off. Her breasts are completely dried up and her skin is discolored. She can't even sit up straight without her daughter standing behind her for support. Still, she refuses her medicine. At the hospital a while back, she lost consciousness for a day and her family was sure she died. When she awoke, they claimed she rose from the dead, and now they are afraid to bring her back to the hospital. Winifrida (who runs the hospice) tried to give some family counseling, explaining that while the family might be the victim of witchcraft, the disease of AIDS is still inside Margaret nevertheless. For the moment, Margaret has agreed to take anti-fungal wash for her mouth sores (Listerine), and the anti-bacterial salve I brought for her bedsores and skin condition. But she still refuses the anti-viral drugs. Once the hospital heard she was throwing away her (expensive) medicine, they said they cannot help her anymore. So Winifrida will continue to make home visits and keep an eye on her and try more counseling.
Margaret's 12 year old son kept handing me a banana leaf and asking me to fix his shoes with it. A cobbler I am not, especially with a banana leaf as my only tool. I have no idea what they wanted me to do with it, and sadly I failed at the desired task.
There are so many levels of poverty here. TunaHAKI has no running water and no new clothes; the children at St. Lucia's don't even have a ball to play with; Margaret and her family have no electricity... And I have not even seen the worst of it. I have been told of a village in the mountain where the poverty is indescribable. I am leaving behind most of my clothes and shoes for the men of that village.
St. Lucia's is in Arusha - which is anywhere from a 35 minute to a 2 hour drive, depending on the bus you catch, how many times it stops, how many people they try to squeeze in, and how fast it drives. I have enjoyed taking these buses - they're dangerous and scary and fun and fascinating and uncomfortable and miserable and wonderful all at the same time. Yesterday a Maasai Warrior was half on my lap for half the ride, and after they got off, a big woman with a hunk of pungent cheese sat next to me. Another time, 8 women each carrying 100 bananas squeezed in for the long ride. Some people say these buses can be dangerous for foreigners - I think they fear pick-pockets. When I board, I make a point to find the nearest child and start talking to them. That way, I quickly prove I know some Swahili and that I like children, and the adults on the bus immediately warm to me. It's my personal secret to crime-prevention.
Earlier, I walked through my neighborhood and said goodbye to the local kids who I have come to known on my walks. There is one group that calls me "Mdudu" which means insect. I think this is because I was swatting mosquitoes away the first day I met them and they thought it was funny. Another group calls crazy dancer man, because the first day I got here I heard music from their house and I did a little dance on the path. And then there are the kids directly across the street who call me "Fif-ah" and who have opened their home to me daily.
There is a whole new group of volunteers who just arrived and are about to start their first day of work. I have been giving them advice and feel like the experienced old man of the mountain as I answer all their fresh-faced questions.
To say this has been an amazing trip would be an understatement of great proportion.
Some volunteers come here and are concerned with their own experience and what they get out of it, and many of them leave unhappy and unfulfilled. Up till now the expression 'the more you give, the more you get' was little more than a platitude for me - a nice saying that sounds good-intentioned but that had little personal meaning. But this trip has taught me that nothing is more true. I was lucky enough to lose myself here and open up and give to anyone and everyone in whatever way I could, and the results have been overwhelming. I have gotten so much in return. I am so thankful for this trip, and I thank those of you who put up with these lengthy emails and took the trip with me. Now I'm off to Nairobi, Kenya to begin my long (3-day plus) journey home.
Asante Sana.
Fif-ah
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February 2008 
Fifer
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