And so, this is Christmas

Christmas was ushered in during the wee hours by the first real thunderstorm I've experienced since coming to the village, and I awoke at 6am to the sound of an unrelenting steady rain. While I'd planned to go to mass at 7:00, a couple of cups of coffee and a warm bath later, I decided it would be foolhardy to go and get myself soaked given the state of my cold. I settled for some quiet meditation, alone with God on the back stoop, and hoped I wouldn't subsequently be declared to be a pagan by the community.

By 9am the rain had slowed to a drizzle so I popped over to Mara's little house in the compound to deliver his Christmas present. What a sight! While he had been away with us on the retreat in Arusha (a grand total of 4 days away), there had been a major termite invasion in his house. The place is now covered in many unbelievably large piles of termite-leavings (I have no idea how these critters work so fast...the mind boggles. I started to think about why my guesthouse isn't subject to similar infestations then thought better of pondering that too far. Here I am, Ms. Environmental Sensitivity and I'm probably living in a house that is drenched in some sort of nasty insecticide to keep the pests at bay...yikes! That would certainly account for some portion of my feeling not-quite-right healthwise.)

Then, I had a run of visitors. Mama Farajah came to the door as she was arriving for a late start at work. She gave me a wonderful Christmas card, complete with pop-up Nativity scene. We shared hugs and best wishes as she headed to the hostel to start a normal workday.

Next came Maali. I had given him a card and a 5,000 shilling note yesterday, with thanks for keeping me so safe and sound here. So, he popped in at the end of his night shift to wish me a Merry Christmas, offer many hugs and to thank me for the gazillionth time for my friendship and kindness. I think it's now official, although it was probably always true. My Maasai askari friend would probably step boldly between me and a lion if required, armed with nothing more than his stick and short spear.

And then, a phone call at 9:40 from Justinian, the acting Director of LOOCIP, hoping I was okay since I'd missed the 7:00am Mass which had just ended (hey, only 2.5 hours long). I assured him I was okay, hoping all the while that I wouldn't be judged too harshly for my no-show, and wished his family well.

Around 11am Joseph came by, having fought his battle with the termites, to give me a Christmas card and to share my coffee with 2 of his friends. Cremora (the Coffeemate available here) is quite the hit with everyone. Personally I prefer the boiled cow's milk I'm served in other people's homes but my consumption is too small to warrant buying a milk supply from the pastor next door, without access to refrigerated storage. One of Joseph's friends is a traditional Maasai moran (young warrior) and he was fascinated with seeing photos of Joseph on my laptop. I'm not sure if he had ever seen a photograph of himself or any of his friends. Thus began a photo session which gave us all a lot of laughs.

At noon, my first host of the day showed up to let us know it was time to come for Christmas lunch. We had a terrific meal, with roasted meat and potatoes and lots of other goodies. They had another pair of visitors there from the US and the husband, being originally from Montreal, was quite familiar with Ottawa and keen to share stories. Joseph & I slipped away shortly after 2pm and stopped to wish Nai a Merry Christmas at her home. Of course the first request was that I sit and join them for a meal, but I had to beg off from that one, with a promise to share food with her at New Years. We came back to the guest house, where I hoped to get in a few hours of digestion prior to our evening invitation to dinner. However, shortly after arriving, I was asked if I would come and meet with a group of seven young men who were visiting here, on a very short break from their school. Of course I agreed to go and chat with them, and on arrival discovered there was a meal laid out. Never one to offend, I put tiny bits of chicken wings and rice on my plate, loosened the waistband on my skirt a notch, and got into a great conversation with this group of fine young fellows about their aspirations on completion of their A level exams this February.

And here I'll digress a bit about how money is shared here in Africa. Remember that $10 I gave to Mama Farajah yesterday to help with Christmas expenses? Well, I can almost certainly imagine that much of that money went to providing today's square meal, and a tiny bit of celebration to be shared with her son Ivan's classmates, none of whom could get home for Christmas. This is the African way. Whatever you have, you share.

At 7:30pm, we headed out for our final Christmas celebratory meal of the day. What a surprise to arrive at this home, and find a small artificial Christmas tree, and strings of twinkling lights. Again, far too much food was offered (and consumed, since this Mama wasn't interested in taking no for an answer) and then we watched a Story of Jesus movie in badly-dubbed Kiswahili. The company was wonderful, and made for a terrific finale to the day. And then, home to bed, as Boxing Day promises an amazing adventure. I'm off to participate in a Maasai wedding celebration in the village of Engarenaibor...a potentially nasty road trip, but I'm sure a huge adventure is in store. Stay tuned.

Merry Christmas

Jotu.

and to all a good night...

Christmas Eve in Africa. It's 7:25pm and the generator, which normally growls into 'on' mode at 7pm has finally come on. I was hoping it hadn't been given the night off!

I've hung my Christmas garland brought along from Canada. I've got my new African Christmas dress sort of pressed for church in the morning. No iron, so I just dampened and pushed and poked everything into submission before drying. I used up a gazillion cell phone credits and called a lot of near & dear folks back home, to send holiday wishes from afar. What a wonderful time that was!! I've wrapped the one real present I'll deliver tomorrow to the family who invited me to share the evening meal, and written my little Christmas cards to others. I should probably have bought a goat for my host instead, but that's hard to pull off on Christmas Eve, and I'm not really into goat rustling at this hour. There's a lot of singing in the air tonight...possibly choirs practising for morning, perhaps just families breaking into song. Everyone is happy that it's Christmas, but there isn't a bit of commercialism attached here in the village. How refreshing!

Everyone I meet in the village (and myself included) is fighting a nasty cold. I'm told it was brought on by the change in the weather, only I'm not too sure what that change was. Hmmmm...not so windy these nights...for a while there a big wind picked up every night at 9ish and played its tricks with my tin roof. Yesterday we had a short heavy rain. Other than that, everything feels about the same to me (hot, basically), so I'm not at all sure what I'm supposed to blame the cold on. I only know I'll be eternally grateful to my TEMBO friends who left a good stock of facial tissues with me when they returned to Canada in November.

I think I'll tell you about my friend Mama Farajah tonight. She's Vickie, but as Farajah's mom, she usually gets the other title, just as to her I'm Mama Matthew (first born child). Vickie is now the hostel attendant here at the compound. Remember descriptions of the hostel? My first home here in Longido? (if not, perhaps I only THINK I wrote about it ages ago...can't get online to check). Anyhow, Vickie works 7 days a week, usually 12 hours or more, cleaning, laundering, airing mattresses in the sun, killing termites and generally trying to do the impossible...make the rundown hostel look attractive enough to guests that they'll consider paying the 2,000 shillings (about $2) price for an overnight stay. For this, she earns about $90 per month, and I'm not sure where even that salary is going to come from next month, when World Vision's transitional funding for this place runs out. She's a divorced single mother with 6 children, ranging from the adult Farajah, to Esau who is mentally ill, another son Ivan off at secondary school somewhere outside of the village, eldest daughter Loveness who is one of our TEMBO sponsored girls entering her final year of secondary school, son Michael who's just found out he passed the exam for secondary school and aspires to be a professional soccer player (and how I hope he got a sponsorship somewhere to attend secondary), and youngest daughter Larrie (about 10), who hangs out a lot at my house, playing with my modelling clay and various other toys and often, out of nowhere, pitching in with my housework by doing dishes or such without being asked. There's also baby Arnold (Farrajah's son) who still breaks into tears if I try to touch him, but otherwise has progressed to smiles and giggles when I'm around. It was Mama Farajah who taught me how to get my kerosene stove under control, and who so kindly took on the moonlighting job of cleaning my house when I first moved in to the guesthouse. On my return from Arusha yesterday, she was quick to run out and greet me with a yell, a smile and a huge welcoming hug, as she normally does every day when we first meet.

I think Mama Farajah has to work tomorrow, and I can't for the life of me understand why no one stops to think how much she deserves the day off with her family. I took her a Christmas card today, and a small gift of 10,000 shillings ($10) suggesting she might be able to use it to buy some nice treats for Christmas dinner for the kids. Well, like I've told you before, you don't often see a lot of strong emotional response from folks here, but she was moved to tears, I was pronounced to be a gift from God, and made a permanent member of the family. It takes so little to bring so much joy and gratitude here.

I wish you all the best possible gifts of Christmas. I know that my day tomorrow will be full of heartwarming moments shared with the wonderful people of Longido.

Merry Christmas, friends.

Jotu

City Girl II

End of my second full day in town. It's raining again, which is really quite a refreshing change from Longido weather of the past few weeks. Everyone seems to be talking about climate change here. It's very real to people that something's just not right. Droughts, heat waves then excessive rain, all of which cause incredible difficulty here – to livestock, crops, roads, you name it. Sad to realize that a country which is adding so little to the problems of global climate change may bear the brunt of those changes without sufficient financial resources to really cope with them.

Today I overate (ending with the cold bottle of beer I just finished minutes ago, before scurrying home in the downpour), spent an inordinate amount of time on the internet, enjoyed a visit to the Arusha home of Tina, our field coordinator in Longido, bought excessive amounts of Christmas chocolate at the ShopRite mzungu supermarket (plus replenishment of my stock of tuna fish and ramen noodles of course), enjoyed a long phone conversation with the women of Project TEMBO in Ottawa, spent lots of time talking to the street vendors, and generally had a good time. I think this stint of town-time was just what I needed. Thank you to everyone who is taking the time to send emails. I treasure them all.

And now, to sleep. Hopefully the rain means that the street noise will be minimal tonight and I may actually get a solid night of snoozing.

City Girl

It's December 19^th (I think!) and I'm back in Arusha for a few days.

I decided to do the sensible thing, and started my urban stint yesterday with a visit to the doctor at a good clinic. Still fighting a low-grade fever most days, and that makes it really hard to get out and cope with the midday heat of a typical sunny day. Not fun having my functional hours reduced to 2 or 3 in the morning, and 2 or 3 after dusk. Anyhow, happy to report that they tested my blood and I show no signs of malaria or the standard host of other usual suspects. Really glad to hear it's not malaria as that was what various village folk suspected, and quite happy to accept the good doctor's prognosis that it's probably a touch of the flu.

So here I am waiting out an afternoon rain in my room at the Lutheran Hostel, grateful for a rare, cool period. Humble digs...but for approximately $8 Cdn per night, it's more than adequate. Showers with hot water (most of the time), flush-toilets (of the sit-upon variety), electricity (again, most of the time) and a front door guard – what more could this mzungu ask for? Well, how's about a bathtub? I've got a craving for a bathtub, which is kind of silly since I've always been more of a shower person at home. Guess it's something to do with wanting what you know you can't have. I'd probably need to book into one of the really upscale hotels here to fulfill that wish, and it simply wouldn't be worth it. Somehow when you position a $100+ per night hotel room against new friends who have virtually zero income, it just isn't reconcilable.

So instead, I'm going to give myself a few days of small indulgences--lots of nutritionally balanced meals, no morning alarm clock, maybe a new novel or two from the bookstore. I enjoyed an amazing meal of Indian food last night, shared with good friends and a little wine. Perfect!

I was surprised (when will I learn to expect the unexpected?) to see the city restaurants and hotel lobbies filled with artificial Christmas trees, and hanging Santa decorations. As I collected my emails this morning at the internet cafe, I was suitably serenaded by the background strains of “I'll have a blue Christmas without you”. Somebody really likes that song...I think I heard it 3 times in the hour I was there! There is thankfully no sign of such Christmas commercialism in Longido. Everyone is very excited about the holiday coming. Lots of talk of buying new clothes and shoes for the event. I think the day itself is pretty well focused on church followed by a family gathering with lots of good food. I keep trying to get a clear handle on the concept of gift-giving so I don't find myself short of suitable things to give. However, as in most things, I don't seem to be able to get a clear answer. I think it's really quite arbitrary, but I expect that anyone I do buy a gift for will be more than happy to receive one.

I'm not sure how I'm going to approach the Christmas church attendance issue. Last Sunday I was invited by one friend to her daughter's confirmation ceremony at the Lutheran Church, and was also invited to another friend's son's baptism. Fortunately both were at the same church and the same service. Now I say fortunately, because otherwise I would have had to make a difficult choice and insult one or the other. The flip side is that by the time we got through both of those ceremonies, as well as communion for the confirmation candidates and the church elders, and not one but 3 different rounds of passing the collection plate, four hours had passed. The music was wonderful...a huge choir from the Secondary School, as well as a smaller women's choir. Singing along with Swahili hymns is do-able. The tunes are quite universal and since kiswahili is a phonetic language, even I could join in, at least while the unknown lady beside me was willing to share her hymn book. Perhaps I wasn't doing so well after all – halfway through the service she chose to start sharing the book with the man on the other side of her instead. The goats were a good diversion too. Someone donated them at collection time, to be auctioned off after the service for funds toward the church's new building fund. Similarly, someone donated a bag of eggs and a gallon jug of fresh milk for auction. But, the long sermon in Swahili was definitely a tough stretch for me, perched on a rough wooden bench. All this to say that whichever church I choose to attend on Christmas, I really must try to get an honest assessment of the probable duration of the service in advance, so I can at least arm myself properly with cool clothing and bottled water if necessary.

Little Pleasures - Dec. 15th

Small things mean a lot when life is reduced to the simplicity of just getting by each day. Last night I had a dinner date with a British woman who is doing volunteer language training here, with a group called Mondo Challenge. She brought along another volunteer from the US, newer to the village, as well as their supervisor from Arusha. Joseph joined us (to ensure there would be someone to walk me home in the dark after dinner) and so it turned into quite the little party. And, surprise, there was fried chicken on the menu (lately, chicken seems to appear no more frequently than once every 2 weeks, unless I special order it a few days ahead). In addition, for the first time I've ever experienced, they were frying up some tilapia fish from Lake Victoria. What a feast! Especially with a big heap of chipsi (fries) on the side.

Today little Arnold, who's probably almost two years old and one of the children who's been absolutely terrified by the very sight of me (happens about 20% of the time I'd guess) was finally won over by patience and toffee. He's now willing to look in my general direction, if not to look me in the eye, wave bye-bye and say Bye Jotu. One down...

And, today I decided to get tough with the stove. I sent Maali the askari off to buy me some kerosene and new wicking, as the latter seemed to be the source of a lot of concern when anyone would look at the stove. Armed with my multi-tool and the helpful advice of Mama Farrajah, the beast was dismantled, reassembled, refuelled, and is now behaving reasonably well. I was in a stay-at-home mood this evening so I skipped out on the usual trek to the village and ended up cooking ramen noodles with a can of tuna fish dumped in. Not gourmet fare, but my pantry (aka plastic bag) of supermarket food from the city is not very well stocked. Besides, just the fact that I was eating something different from the usual fare made it taste pretty darned good.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow. First thing in the morning Mary, our TEMBO librarian, is hosting a very special ceremony for her daughter Happyness. She has worked very hard to put together an Alternative Rite of Passage ceremony, as her daughter is now at the age when, (despite the process being officially illegal in Tanzania) her daughter would normally be circumcised as she enters womanhood. Mary travels throughout the region giving seminars about the problems of FGM (Female Genital Mutilation), trying to spread the word throughout the Maasai community about the inherent dangers in this process, and discussing alternatives. As has been done in other communities (though tomorrow will be a first for Longido), groups are working hard to promote these alternative ceremonies -- much of the tradition is retained...the girls are still taken aside and taught what they need to know by their mothers and female relatives, there is a large celebration, gifts are given...all the good bits remain, but the actual act of circumcision does not take place. I've been called upon to make my first official speech, and am hoping to win the crowd over with my introductory 5 lines of weak Kiswahili. Unfortunately, this all starts at 7am, mostly because that's the only hour the District Commissioner could fit into his schedule, and it's important that he attend to demostrate his support for this new ceremony to all in attendance. Yikes, this means I'll need to be up before 6am if I want enough time to heat some bathwater and toss back a little coffee. I've had to temporarily return my large-sized thermos jug to its owner for a few days so I can't make the necessary preparations tonight.

And so, I'd best put this posting to bed.

Continuing...next day. I just strolled down to the village in the sweltering mid-afternoon heat, hoping to check my email and submit this blog post. Unfortunately only 2 people have the key to the office which holds my precious dial-up connection. One is in Nairobi today, the other, nowhere to be found (which is rather hard to pull off in a village this size). Oh well, tomorrow may prove more fruitful, and meantime I'll just carry on.

The ceremony was really something to see. But first, let me digress (and the delay in getting around to describing the event will be fitting...you'll see) and tell you a little bit about "African time". An old aboriginal friend of mine back in Canada, used to excuse his frustrating perpetual lateness by sayng that he ran on "In'jun time". Well, let me tell you...he had nothing on this community. First of all, when someone tells you an hour to meet, you need to double check whether that's Tanzanian time or English time. The two clocks are different. Here, the morning begins at 6am with the sun, so for example the invitation I received for this morning's ceremony said 1:00 asubuhi (morning). That in itself could lead to sufficient confusion, BUT, it gets way more difficult when you toss in the idea that almost nobody here is even remotely time-conscious. I probably drive the locals crazy. They ask me to arrive at their home at some fixed hour and golly, I appear at that time, usually to find them in some state of semi-undress, only beginning to prepare for my arrival. (Some of you know, I've never been very savvy about the concept of arriving fashionably late).

So...this morning I ran around by candlelight heating bathwater, making coffee, packing up things for the ceremony, trying to find Joseph because I'd been entrusted with all of the office keys last night and he hadn't come by to pick them up yet, and promptly at 6:50 as discussed, I was on Tina's doorstep ready to walk together to the 7:00am event. To her credit (the poor woman is getting used to my crazy punctuality) she was only minutes away from being ready to go. We managed to arrive at Mary's home shortly after the appointed time and found everyone in the process of setting up the yard for seating, making streamers, firing up pots for food, beginning to dress the girls for the ceremony and such. We were ushered indoors to chat with everyone and wait. The previously mentioned District Commissioner, who had called for this early start time to begin with, showed up at about 8:30, and things started to swing into action.

The women gathered inside the house and laid out a stiff cowhide that is traditionally used to perform the circumcision on. Happyness was put through a simulation of how she would normally be held by the women during the actual act (no knives, I promise, and I do have pictures of a beautiful smiling young girl quite unperturbed by all of this), then, wrapped in a kanga (like a sarong, worn by all women here as an overskirt or apron when they're doing cooking, cleaning etc.) to symbolize her new womanhood, and taken outside to greet the crowd. I was then sent to join the head table and after a few introductory remarks, it appeared that speeches were to begin. Alas, the DC decided that since it was so early in the morning, there hadn't yet been time for a sufficiently large group to gather, in order to justify him making a speech. He declared that we would take a break and reconvene an hour later, at 10:00am. So, Tina and I headed back through the fields to her home for chai and an opportunity to sort out childcare for the rest of the morning. Back at 10:00 and hey, no surprise here, the DC had sent someone to assess the crowd and it still wasn't up to par so he delayed again. I think it was close to 11:00 when he finally appeared and things started up again. A groups of young girls, probably a few years ahead of their circumcision dates sang songs and did a little drama about how they didn't want to be put through the traditional ritual. And then, the speeches...I can only tell you that some folks here really have the gift of the gab, as my mom used to say.

Shortly after noon, I stood to give my quickie congratulatory speech and then had to beg off and leave. By this time I'd been frying in direct sunlight way too long and was near collapse. A quick goodbye to our hosts, a moment to give Happyness a little gift, and we were off. Of course everyone was concerned that I was going to miss the food, but I'd honestly reached the end of my heat-tolerance. The highlight of the morning for me, came when one of the elder women who has obviously been performing FGM for many years stood and said she would never do so again. Hopefully, today marked a real point of change which will spread rapidly through the community. Just so you know, it is now 6 pm and I can still here the boombox pounding from the general direction of Mary's house. I expect that all afternoon there have been new arrivals and that this party will last long into the evening as friends and relatives from throughout the area come and go.

Half-time check - Dec. 16th

I've just realized that I'm six weeks into my 3 month stay. Half-over already! It's really hard to believe this much time has passed, and it seems impossible to imagine that it will soon be time to think about packing up and coming home again.

What have I learned so far? Well, I can now almost consistently pee directly into the 4" x 6" hole of the average concrete latrine. Just think, I might have gone through life without mastery of that feat!

I've learned that I have lived an incredibly privileged life, full of so many things that are delightful but unthinkably extravagant relative to what's really needed to get by.

I've learned about many things that we seem to have lost track of in North America...what it REALLY means to selflessly help your neighbours, how to live in the moment and do what needs to be done right now (even if that means messing up somebody else's schedule!), what honest gratitude looks like.

I've learned that probably the only thing that could really make me crazy out here would be to not have the possibility of communicating with my friends and family at least every few weeks.

I've learned that when you're walking down the village road and somebody comes up behind and pulls the backpack off your back, you are NOT being mugged. Rather, someone has decided that you look like you could use a lightening of your load and will lug the pack the rest of the way home, more often than not grabbing a hand to hold at the same time.

I've learned that when you practise it long enough you can learn to walk confidently in the dark, just using your eyes as best you can and trusting that your feet really know what they're doing on a familiar stretch of road.

I've come to accept the Thermos as one of the great inventions of our time.

I've learned that unquestionably I am able to live alone, quite fearlessly, without pining for companionship. I've also learned that it would be amazing to have somebody in my life who could share this sort of journey, as I know it will be far from my last.

I wonder what the next six weeks will teach me.

What can I say? The kids are adorable and they keep running up when I've got my camera, yelling, "Picha! Picha!". Who could resist?
























This is a well-equipped Longido kitchen. You would NOT believe the feast that came out of this one!

Photos

Back in Arusha today, so I will again try to upload some photos for you!

This little sweetie, standing against the wall of her family hut, is just one of hundreds of gorgeous wee ones, who steal my heart on a daily basis.







This is one of the bomas in Kimokouwa. These particular huts are quite large compared to some I've had the honour of being invited to enter.











Yikes..these are taking over 5 minutes each to post, so I'd best hit the publish button every few pictures so this isn't time wasted.

A Bird in the House

Okay, so picture this...I'm in the bathroom of the guesthouse when I suddenly hear this whacky banging around in the living room. Out I go to check this out (I might add proudly, downright fearlessly...though of course it's broad daylight and there are other people around outside). Here's this midsized black bird flapping around the living room/dining room area. Somehow, he's not getting the picture that with all the sunlight streaming through the open front door, just maybe that would be a swell spot to try an escape. No such luck. He'd rather just flap around from window to window.

So, after about 10 minutes of attempting to encourage him in the right direction with my broom, I'm stumped. Obviously, assistance is in order.

Have I told you about the askaris? These are the young Maasai men who guard our front gate in the evenings, make sure the generator is turned on and off, and do who knows what else. Our askaris, named Paulo and Maari, are both terrific young men, though since neither speaks English I've only had rare opportunities to converse with them beyond basic greetings. They wear traditional Maasai gear...hard to describe, but essentially multiple layers of sarong-like cloth, tied at one shoulder, and covering them pretty much from chest to knees. The resultant tunic is belted and there's a sword-like weapon hanging from the belt. Beyond that, there's an ever-present stick in one hand. On the 'cold' nights, I usually spot the askari huddled in the little guard's house at the gate, wrapped in yet another piece of fabric called a shuka. Sometimes you can barely see even a glimpse of a face under there...especially with Maali who seems terribly sensitive to the cool evening air.

Anyhow, back to the bird story...a peek outside to see who could help, reveals Maali strolling near my house. I manage to invite him over, thanks to basic handsignals (and, I suspect, the universally understood look of a woman sorely in need of assistance). Amazingly enough, my Swahili course has actually prepared me for this precise situation...for whatever reason, one of my 10 available phrases in short-term memory is "the bird is flying"...ndege anaruka. Accompanied with a bit of pointing, I'm actually able to get my point across (for a change!). So, in comes Maali...I arm him with the broom, and the chase is on. He isn't having much more luck than I'd had, but the entertainment value is great and has us both laughing like crazy. Wish I could do justice to the picture of this tunic clad, well armed man, jumping around my house with a broom. Last time I had so many laughs was when I was called upon for a bat-trapping caper in Ottawa a few months ago.

Ultimately, we steered the unwelcome visitor out the front door, and life returned to normal.

And that, my friends, was the high point of my day (so far...it's only 5pm and you just never know what lies in store!)

jotu

Life Cycles

Just pondering how some things have come around again in my life, so many years and so many miles later...

I grew up in Point Alexander, a mile from the highway, at the end of a dirt road. As such, the sound of a car in the driveway always sent me racing to a window to find out who'd come to visit, or what stranger had managed to get lost. When I moved away to Guelph at 16, I remember how it took me a few days to get used to the fact that I had to ignore the sound of nearby vehicles. Now, I've come full circle. There are very few vehicles in Longido and I definitely live at the end of the road (a nearly impassable road on occasion, especially when there's heavy rain). So when vehicle noise is heard, it's impossible not to look out to see who has arrived, or to determine if I need to go out to open the driveway gate for a visitor.

When I was a pre-teenager I took ballet lessons in town. Since we lived several miles away, my dad would come to pick me up after my classes. We had our routine...each night after class we'd stop at the drug store to pick up two bottles of Gini to drink on the way home. Gini (which I'm quite sure has been off the market for many years in Canada now) was this wonderful bitter lemon soft drink. I remember it coming in smaller-than-normal green pop bottles, with the outside painted to look rather like a raffia-wrapped European wine bottle. I never lost the taste for Gini, though perhaps as much because it was such a reminder of special times with my dad, as for the taste. And now, yikes, I find myself with daily access to a Coca-Cola product called Krest Bitter Lemon which is, in fact, my Gini once again. Lightly carbonated, one of the few 'sodas' that manages to taste refreshing in the absence of refrigeration, and not so syrupy sweet as all the others here. And, free memories with every bottle, to boot! Here's to you, Daddy! Wish you could see your 'kiddo' now!

I expect that my growing up in an isolated rural setting has a lot to do with the peace I find in living here now. As a child, with very few nearby playmates, I learned to spend hours reading, poking around outside learning about bugs and various little critters ranging from tree toads to chipmunks, and finding ways to amuse myself when, technically, there was 'nothing' to do. I remember in the winter, falling asleep with eerie night noises...used to be that packs of wolves would come across the frozen Ottawa River and end up quite close to our house. Never suspected that would be preparation for lying alone in the pitch black of an African evening, listening to all the unidentifiable night sounds.

I'll spare you all the details about a few years of my childhood spent living with a two-seater outhouse, far too often home to big, but harmless (or so I was promised), wood spiders...

Funny how life just keeps going around, huh?

Contemplative, but content....

Jotu

on the mend

Saturday, December 9th.

My mystery illness seems to be letting up. I decided to take a chance on trying to tolerate a proper breakfast this morning...so far, so good! Joseph walked with me to the restaurant as I don't yet have the strength to carry my backpack, loaded with the laptop for the daily email connection attempt. We stopped on the way to visit with Nai, a wonderful woman who is a community leader of sorts (best known here as an opinion leader). She is becoming a real 'dada' (sister) to me as time goes along. Her mother hustled me off to show me an ornately beaded skirt of the variety I've promised to purchase before I leave in February. Not sure if Canada will be ready for this outfit, but if I choose not to wear it, it will make an incredible wall hanging just the same! Everyone is talking about the new Maasai beaded cell phone holder (a gorgeous mini pouch to string around my neck) which I custom ordered from one of the TEMBO beadmakers. Perhaps I'll start a new trend, especially since EVERYONE here has a cell phone.

Even the relatively mild morning sun was hard to take on the walk home, so I think I'm probably still battling some fever. Now I KNOW I packed a thermometer, but haven't yet been able to find it in my bags of 'stuff'. I'll need to take some time to try to reorganize, and hopefully it will appear. One of the things on my to-do list is to go to the local woodworking shop (hope I can find it again...what I'd give for signage!!) and ask about having a shelf built for my bedroom. Shelves, cabinets and such are a rarity here, so I've got all these duffle bags, grocery bags and boxes, piled around my room.

The kitchen is a classic...empty room except for a stainless steel sink/drainboard which was put in especially for visitors. Cooking (on the small kerosene burner I mentioned before) is typically done on the floor. Things are stored in litttle piles on the floor...dishes, cookware, foodstuffs. I don't know how the local women survive the stress on their backs from constantly working in a bent over position. Nor do I understand how they manage to create such incredible meals with minimal facilities. They put my culinary skills to shame, each time I'm invited to share a meal with a local family.

So, at risk of appearing terribly extravagant, perhaps I'll ask about purchasing a shelf for the bedroom AND a cabinet of sorts for the kitchen.

Several hours later...the thermometer has been found...of course it was tucked into a corner of the last bag I rummaged through, so that exercise cost me most of my remaining energy! Oh well, managed to organize a few things in the process. Fever is minor...certainly not high enough to warrant a visit to the local clinic, which is a woefully underfunded facility doing its best to assist the local people with virtually no medications or equipment. I could be hyper-cautious I suppose and make the trek to the hospital in Arusha, but nature seems to be taking its own course, and I suspect this was a minor case of food contamination.

So, here I was, hanging around the house and spending time with my Rosetta Stone cd-rom based course in Kiswahili, grateful for the 8 hour laptop battery that I purchased for this trip. I can know inform you that I'm now able to say: The birds are flying; the boys are on bicycles; the children are running and jumping, plus assorted phrases about cars, colours and (a high point!) I know my numbers to 10. My vocabulary is sadly lacking still, but everyone is so supportive of my efforts to learn, however limited the results so far. If I manage to come out with a couple of appropriate words at the right time, everyone around me comments on Jotu's new facility with the language.

In the midst of the aforementioned running and jumping children, I was summoned (with zero prior notice, of course!) to come to the conference hall and introduce myself to a group of people from the region, who are taking part in a monthly Community Development class here. So, in a flash I ditched the flimsy sleeveless top, zipped the legs back onto my trousers, and sprang (well, not quite) into action. Fortunately I've got almost no hair now, other than a fringe of bangs (mwanamke ana nyeule fupi sani, another appropriate phrase I've learned -- The woman has very short hair) so primping was not required. On the way to the hall, where I thought I would be expected to discuss Project TEMBO, I was informed that the group had been promised a water-expert from Canada. Things get so blown out of proportion at times. I've made it VERY clear that I've had limited training in Bio Sand Water Filtration, and that my interest in rainwater harvesting is even less supported by any sort of 'expert' qualification. Nonetheless, I continue to be introduced in this fashion and have to be very clear when I stand to speak, that I'm not about to introduce any major water projects in the next few weeks!

Life is never less than very interesting. Each day continues to hold a surprise.

New Challenges

I suppose if there's really a character test in all of this for me, this week might be it. I returned to Longido village on Tuesday afternoon, via 'shuttlebus' which runs from Arusha to Nairobi. It was wonderful to see Mt. Longido getting closer over the hour of travelling, and to really fell like I was coming 'home' to the village.

After scurrying about to find someone to help me back to the ADP with my bags (my attempts to prearrange that the night before had gone unheeded at this end) I arrived to face my new reality...living solo in the guest house, now that my former housemates have gone to the city until after Christmas.

The guesthouse is really quite nice...3 double bedrooms, a common living room, dining room and kitchen and indoor plumbing! Cold water only of course, and yes, while there's a flush toilet which is light years ahead of many of the local facilities, it's still just a porcelain hole in the floor. (I'm developing muscles in my knees quite foreign to most North Americans...enough said).

I spent my first evening sitting on my back porch, introducing myself to a family of swallows who've nested in the eaves, watcing other birds and a gorgeous African sunset, sipping lemon tea (after I bravely tackled lighting my kerosene single burner stove...a task I'd formerly left to my housemates). We have 3 hours of diesel generated electricity each evening (7 - 10) so after using that to charge my phone, computer and such, I trundled off for my first solo sleep. Of course it turned out to be one of those noisy nights we have here every few days. Dogs were barking incessantly (I really didn't want to know at what!), the hyenas were laughing, cows kept being rowdy, and of course the ever-present roosters couldn't figure that it was nighttime and they ought to keep quiet. Add a good bit of wind banging at all the windows and doors and I'm sure you'll understand when I say night one alone was a bit nerve-wracking. That did get better the following night...I actually managed a few hours of unbroken sleep, and I know it will continue to get easier. Really glad I had practice living solo back home though! There's a certain reassurance too, in the fact that no one here seems at all concerned about me living alone. I know that if there was anything to fear, they'd be urging me to make other arrangements.

Second day back I resolved to start turning the space into my own, so I splurged and hired a woman to come and give it a really good cleaning. You can sweep an African house about every hour, and remove fresh sand that's managed to come in on shoes, blow in through the windows, etc.etc.. I've got that part mastered, but I just wanted to give the place a real top to bottom washing, and frankly I don't have the strength, equipment or know-how to do that here. Anyhow, ended up with a whole family here while Mama and elder sister tackled the place. Such a treat now...everything is really fresh and clean. Now to see if I can maintain that!

Busy days setting up the new TEMBO office space and trying to get into a routine with my colleagues. And big news! -- I now have a dial-up connection which I can get to by simply toting the laptop to the main village a km away. Connection fees are frighteningly high, though the service itself was quite reasonable to establish. It's just going to make my life so much easier to be able to stay in communication with Canada more often than every 2 weeks. Those of you who want to send emails can do so to my new address: jotu@habari.co.tz Please note though that this is dial-up...and on a cellular system at that, with big per minute connection charges, so PLEASE don't send any attachments, photos, etc... Anything large should continue to come to me at my gmail address, and anything that's really important should be cc'd to both addresses such that I'll be sure to receive (eventually!). I should also be able to keep the blog entries coming faster now, as I'll email them to my son, who can post them for me. Photos will have to wait for my town visits, and hi-speed access. Hope to be in Arusha again December 18-20.

The days fill up quickly. And everything has to be planned such that it makes allowance for nothing ever happening quite as planned. Meeting times are flexible...most often things are late, sometimes they just don't happen. I'm learning a whole new level of patience, and find myself reciting the Serenity Prayer more often than ever before. But, I'm happy to at least slowly see things coming off my to do list, and hopefully my presence here can keep our projects going forward at a reasonable pace.

Yesterday (Thursday), after spending a fairly normal work-day, I was hit hard and fast with some sort of illness. No idea whether I ate or drank something problematic, or whether perhaps I got a touch of malaria. Only know that I was a total feverish mess, with all sorts of G-I distress going on. Luckily there were folks around when it happened and everyone was great about pulling together a plan to ensure I wouldn't be left alone for the night. One of my young buddies here at the ADP was kind enough to agree to move into one of the guest house rooms for the night, so he could take care of me should things get worse. The extra presence was reassuring, and it was a treat to wake up, still a little rough around the edges but much improved, and find that my tea water was already boiled and waiting for me. I'm lying low today as I write this. Definitely on the mend but feeling pretty weak.

I am beginning to feel so much a part of the community here. My circle of rafikis (friends) continues to grow. I keep hearing how much my Kiswahili is coming along, when in fact that's a bit of a joke. I really must find time to focus on my language studies now that I have all of these evenings alone. I'm still limited to basic greetings and such, and am really frustrated by not getting a handle on the languages faster. Oh well...this too will come...patience!!

Another Day's Adventure

November 25th was definitely the most emotionally difficult day I've experienced so far. The morning started well...I headed to the village of Kimakouwa with my friend Joseph Mara along to act as translator...we were scheduled to meet with 4 households who are currently testing solar lights that TEMBO has installed in their boma huts. The meeting went quite well (I could write pages about the protocol around African meetings, as I'm coming to understand it) but as we neared the end there was a flurry of cellphone activity going on. Joseph let me know that we'd been asked if we could assist with transporting someone to the clinic in Longido, as there is no medical care available in Kimokouwa village. Of course, I agreed that we'd use the land rover and help in any way we could.

Kimokouwa is a very spread-out village, and the various bomas are spread out with very few connecting 'roads' between them. Of course, all the rain we've been expeiencing lately has left the ground very muddy and unstable in places. So....as it turned out we were sent to one of the more distant bomas. The rover was loaded with most of the men who'd been at our meeting, as well as a woman who'd run in to ask us to please come quickly. As we attempted to make our way to the patient's home we managed to get stuck to the top of our wheels in mud. Lots of cooperative efforts got us back on the 'road' quite quickly. Eventually we reached a gathered crowd...the patient was brought out to the road in a wheelbarrow. She was a young Maasai woman and as best I could understand the story, had given birth that morning to a stillborn child. The mother was in a great deal of pain and distress and the midwife knew that the situation was beyond her training. It was an amazing stroke of luck that we'd brought a vehicle to the village that day.

The midwife and a group of women managed to get the patient settled into the back seat of the Rover and we headed off for Longido. Of course, nothing ever seems to be simple here, and as luck would have it, we ended up stuck, not just once more, but twice, in the fields of mud. While the Maasai women stayed in the back of the Rover with the patient, I got out and tried my best to help out with the work of extracting the jeep. Men were running off in all directions to cut branches to put under the wheels for traction. A small boy was sent running off to find a hoe we needed for some strategic digging under one of the tires. People flowed in from all directions to help with pushing, or, in the case of the women and children, to simply watch the proceedings. I'm learning that the Maasai aren't often quick to show negative feelings. But, as time passed and we continued to be frustrated by our slow progress through the mud toward the highway, I saw a tremendous amount of anguish on the faces of many of the onlookers. Eventually, we reached solid ground, great cheers went up from everyone, and we piled back into the Rover to make our way to the clinic as quickly as the Rover would let us.

I have not yet been able to determine whether the woman was treated in Longido or moved to the hospital in Arusha, nor even whether she's come through okay. I'll continue to try and inquire when I return to the village in a few days.

May I never again complain about the quality of medical care, wait times and such, once I return to Canada.

Settling In

First, let me apologize for the delay in postings. This is my first time into the city in over 2 weeks, so opportunities for an internet connection are few and far between.

It's really difficult to begin to describe Longido and my reactions to everything I've encountered in the past few weeks. Everything is big and has a surreal edge to it, and I'm having a hard time taking it all in.

I'll begin with the amazing beauty of this place. The village sits at the base of Mount Longido, which I've yet to climb but certainly will. On a clear day you can stand in the soccer field which adjoins this complex, and be surrounded by a panorama which includes Mount Longido, Mount Meru, Mount Kilimanjaro and in between, the biggest sky I've ever seen and stands of acacia trees (which have always been part of my imagination's view of Africa).

At night, the stars are phenomenal, being so close to the equator as we are. I love to sit outside in the dark of evening and stare at the sky. More often than not there's the sound of singing coming in from somewhere not far away, or at least the sounds of the neighborhood cows, goats and dogs.

Let me describe a recent eventful 24 hour period to try and draw you a picture of my current life.

Saturday (Nov 18th?? I tend to lose track) was my first solo day in Longido, having seen Jo & Arlene off at the airport the night before. That evening I went down to the village (about a 1 kilometer walk) for the evening meal with Joyce, a young Maasai woman who's doing an internship here as part of her Journalism degree. We had our typical meal...rice, beans, greens (and I splurged on a Kilimanjaro beer) and were about to make our way home when it began to rain a little. Since I was armed with an umbrella and flashlight, we thought nothing of beginning the usual trek home in the dark. Not far from the restaurant, Joyce turned to me and said, very seriously, "Jotu, we have to find shelter NOW". I still can't figure out how she heard it coming so much sooner than I did, but moments later we were in a monsoon-style downpour, doing our best to run toward a small shop with space to shelter ourselves under the eaves. The shopkeeper was kind enough to invite us inside to wait it out. We were both soaked and shivering at that point and so, out came the cellphones, trying to connect us with one of the 3 possible vehicles in the village that could come and take us safely home in the storm. Eventually we did connect with a young man and, for the price of some much needed petrol, got ourselves back home. That was my first experience of actually feeling cold here, and I was grateful that I had an otherwise too warm nightshirt along, as well as some blankets.

Next morning I set off on a day long adventure with Dr. Steven Kiruswa (the Executive Director of LOCIP) and Joyce, to visit their villages in the interior. I was hoping to see some animals along the way, as so far my sightings had been limited to baboons, one hyena, and unidentified rodent-like critters in the hostel! The drive out didn't provide a lot in the way of wildlife, beyond seeing a pair of ostriches which we raced along the road! Our return voyage was a different story though. At one point we spotted a herd of zebras, who actually raced out to the roadside and crossed right in front of us. Then a bit later we saw a group of 8 giraffes drinking water from the pools on the road. They were amazing...just moved far enough away to let us marvel while they waited for us to move on so they could get back to the matter (water) at hand. Add to that a few groupings of Thomson gazelles and some assorted birds, and it was an amazing mini safari!

We visited with Steven's family for a while. I got to experience the traditional Maasai 'milkshake' (his word, NOT mine!!) which is fermented milk in a sterilized hollowed gourd..shaken hard (by Steven's brother, in the photo) to produce little curds. It was something of a cross between buttermilk and runny yogurt, with a smoke flavour due to the smoke-sterilization process. Proud to say I managed to get down the full glass I was offered, with no ill-effects. Lots of gorgeous little children to play with there, and my bag of mini-Mars bars was well received!

Then I went off with Joyce to walk to her family boma, located about 10 minutes away and not accessible by car because of some wild ravines. Luckily we were joined by Joyce's brother and another young man, who got quite a chuckle about helping me up and down the banks of the ravine on the way! Once there, I was invited into Joyce's sister-in-law's traditional twig & dung hut, where she was resting with their 5 day old baby. I was asked to hold the baby, and was delighted to do so once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the hut...til then I'd just been led along to where the bed was, so I could sit by the mom and baby (all the while hoping I wouldn't accidently sit ON either mom or the baby in the dark!). We visited a while, took some pictures and drank some chai, before having a quick visit with Joyce's father in another hut and her 2 mothers in yet another.

On the way back, I was privileged to be invited to not only attend, but participate a little, in a village meeting. Most of the matters under discussion were unrelated to my visit to Tanzania, but since these particular villagers have some existing Biosand water filters (though different from the systems I learned to build in Carlgary), Steven wanted to plant the seed that I have knowledge about the filters and might be in a position to consider setting up a training program for building home filters at some point. The people were really very excited by that prospect, so I'll be motivated to try and get that going within the coming months.

By the time we got back to Longido (after all those wildlife stops) we were all really tired and hungry, and stopped in the village for rice, beans, green beans (a relatively new food here!), cabbage, and a meat stew..(.a real feast) before returning to the LOCIP complex and my guesthouse room, just before the onset of another round of heavy rain.

All told...an amazing day. But, not really any more amazing than each one I've experienced since arriving in Africa on November 3rd. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?? Each day I wake up wondering what the next adventure will be!

TANZANIA COUNTDOWN

Somehow the past few months have managed to zip past. The house is now sold, I'm settled into a little apartment, my business is now in its 'dormant' stage for who knows how long. And now, with just over a week to go, it only remains to do a little more shopping for interesting bits (like a solar powered charger for my camera batteries) and then to see if it'll all fit in my luggage within the prescribed weight allowance. 100 pounds for 90 days...hmmm...we shall see!

Just received an email from my TEMBO colleague Jo who left for Tanzania last Sunday, and will be there to meet me next week. Somehow, it all seems rather unreal at this stage to be chatting with her on the other side of the planet.

Speaking of Jo (the other one, that is) don't be surprised if you see me referring to myself by my new name. We decided that having two Jos at TEMBO meetings was far too confusing. So, I was determined to come up with something close that would work whenever we're together. Henceforth, I'm Jotu, as in “Hi, I'm Jo too”. Our friend Greg John who's way ahead of me in Swahili skills provided the proper spelling, and as of now I'm fairly confident that Jotu doesn't have some indecent meaning in Swahili that will result in total embarrassment down the line.

I expect that my next posting will find me on African soil, in some internet cafe in Arusha.

Til then: Happy trails!