Tanzania!!!

2/14/18 - 2/28/18

These posts will be a little different. I am writing excerpts from my life whenever there is something to add. It is a bit like a logbook.

I left Omry’s apartment and walked to the train station. When I arrived, I learned that the train I planned to take was not running. I got on the next one, half an hour later, very nervous about missing my flight. I’m amazed how much I take language for granted. Before this year, I couldn’t have understood the anxiety involved with waiting in an unfamiliar station where you can’t read any of the signs, destinations or train names much less differentiate between the trains themselves. Luckily, Hebrew and English use the same numbers and I was able to compare my ticket to the arrival board and somehow managed to get on the right train and off at the airport. A slightly less stressful interrogation followed and I was let through to the check-in counter and security. After flying all over the US and Europe, I finally got my scissors and pen knife confiscated. The scissors were a pair of rusty ancient barber scissors, so no loss there. The pen knife, however, was a nice carved wooden one from my Grandpa, so that was kind of a bummer. All over the world airport security had removed the items from my bag, checked to make sure the blades were short enough, then returned them. I guess I should’ve read up on Israeli security beforehand.

I had the worst, most expensive, airport fast food of my life. Then, I boarded the Ethiopian Airline flight. Little did I know, Ethiopian Airline is the coolest airline ever. Not only did a silk draped flight attendant welcome me to the green and yellow seated plane, but there was soothing instrumental background music for the whole flight! Despite my amazement at the dope airline I fell asleep the second I clipped my seat belt. I guess the past couple days had finally caught up to me.

I woke up in Ethiopia, or over it. Upon looking out the window I knew I was in Africa. The mud and thatch hut compounds were encircled by trees. Around that stretched a massive safari landscape broken by scattered trees and crisscrossing roads and animal paths. Our plan landed shakily on the runway, slowed down into the cul de sac at the end, did a u-turn and drove back up the runway to the airport. A four hour layover later, during which I ate my carefully hoarded tortillas with Nutella packets, and I was back on the fun airline. As we took off my jaw dropped. I had been lucky enough to score another window seat and the view was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. A patchwork of brown and golden fields of all shapes and sizes covered vast tracts of land. Green pathways wound through them indicating where the waterways ran, irrigating the fields. Plateaus rose into the sky then suddenly flattened off as if a random step had been inserted into the landscape. A flock of baby dragons rose up and flew alongside the plane. Nothing in this world has ever blown my mind the way that view did. It ended up just being the first of the many mind blowing moments I have received here.

I landed in Zanzibar and rushed through customs as fast as I could. I managed to connect with Juma, the volunteer coordinator from The Baobab Home, and we raced to the port to catch the last ferry to Dar es Salaam. After two hours of watching Charlie Chaplin, we arrived. Immediately we were attacked by swarms of taxi drivers. Luckily, Juma had called ahead so we waded through the crowd and met our car. The one hour drive took almost four on the highly congested streets. I slipped in and out of wakefulness as the day’s travel and excitement caught up to me again. I awoke a couple of times to see a car driving straight towards us only to swerve at the last second, to see police stopping us and receiving a bribe, and to see that the car hadn’t budged in the traffic since I last woke up ten minutes before.

After what seemed like forever, we arrived and I was shown my room. I got some mashed potatoes and a quick call with my parents. The solar charged batteries had drained for the night so I was shown around by flashlight. After a shower taken in the trickle from the shower head that barely overhung the lip of the old fashion legged bathtub, I crawled under my mosquito net and fell into a deep sleep.

I slept in and woke up just in time to eat porridge with the school kids at 10 am. The porridge, ugi, is a soupy mix of a variety of grains. It may get boring as my only breakfast food for the next three months but with so much in it, some part of it has to be nutritious. I got a tour of the compound including a mud built office, the orphanage building with a boys room, girls room and communal connecting room, the kitchen with a biogas stove, the black soldier fly project, the cows shed with the biogas tanks, the school ground made up of 5 or 6 one room buildings, and the house I will be living in. I ate lunch with the kids, talked with Terri, the founder, about project ideas and things I could do and then got to work.

We decided to start me off with a neem tree soap making experiment. The neem tree is a magical tree with anti-fungal, anti-viral and anti-bacterial properties. In Swahili it is called “arobaini” which means forty, because that’s how many uses it has. It cures all types of skin issues and even some sicknesses such as malaria. I spent a couple hours researching soap making, something I have absolutely zero experience in, and realized how experimental this will be with the limited access to different oils and ingredients. Then I went to the Banda (communal cement and thatch pavilion type eating space) to celebrate the Chinese New Year, not really sure why.

Afterwards, I learned that all my childhood games are too simple for Tanzanian children so they make them 100 times more complicated. Tag involved making chains of people and ducking under each other’s arms and chasing everyone around. It was new to me but I figured it out. Then came Hide and Seek or Kombolela. This one involved throwing a ball and then hiding and running and kicking the ball and calling out each other’s names (which I was abysmal at having just met everyone) and the word “Kombolela” and sneaking around and getting captured and freed and basically, I sat this one out. I kind of understood the gist but could not explain it to you if my life depended on it. Then came Rede (I think that’s what it’s called). There are two teams, a ball and twenty sticks piled in the middle. Two players from one team throw the ball back and forth trying to hit someone from the other team who is dodging and picking up sticks. If they get hit, one of their teammates takes over. Once they get all the sticks they shout something, throw them down and start picking them up again. Once the whole team has been hit the teams switch positions. Sounds simple enough except there are very specific rules about how to pick up sticks and when and how to pass them off to each other and who goes after who and how many sticks you start with. After an hour, I was still trying to comprehend the apparently ever changing rules when someone mentioned there had been a point system, as well, the whole time. I gave up.

Dinner was good. I was given a whole fish and, as non of the kids were given one, I didn’t know how to go about it. Finally, I figured out I had to peel the meat off the spine and the little girl next to me stopped me from eating the head just in time. As far as I can tell there are four meals here: rice, bread, potatoes and ugali (a cornmeal and water dough). These are served with a tomato based sauce sometimes involving fish of varying sizes. There is also a fruit with each meal.

The next day played out similarly with loads more soap research and me reaching out to every soap maker I knew or could find. I met with some teachers and settled on some class times to come and help so we could see how it went and decide on a proper role for me. I also watched someone mix some cow poop soup for the biogas. There is a shit river where the biogas drainage comes out, hopefully a useful source of fertilizer in future endeavors. I read to the kids at night, which was a really special experience. It sent me off to bed feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. And sweaty. Today, I woke up and started trying to fix up a bicycle I found here. The kids quickly joined in and undid every screw and bolt they could. Not much help there, but they found the holes in the tire and one of the older kids patched it. Thanks guys! I think I need to wait until Thursday when the bicycle mechanic comes to school for bicycle club so I can get some proper tools. There was lots of tool improvisation which may have ended in a now unusable brake cable. We will have to see what creative solutions these youngsters can find for it.

After an ugali lunch, where everyone was clearly laughing at me as I tried to eat with my hand, I got to go into town. The other two volunteers, two kids, and I hopped into the back of a bajaji. A bajaji is basically a motorized tricycle type taxi with canvas covering and zipper doors for when it rains. The backseat barely fit three people much less five. It was a hot and bumpy ride but we made it. One of the volunteers, Mike, showed me around a bit while Deanna took the kids to a hotel, Firefly, to swim. He explained that Firefly has the coldest pool in town and Deanna used to work there, so we had the hookup.

We rejoined the others an after a short swim I decided to walk down the nearby beach. I passed through the fish market where the whole sea to table process could be seen. I watched the fisherman bring in their haul, gut and fillet the fish, and then fry them up before placing them on tables to sell. Everyone was super friendly until I told someone who approached me that I had no money on me. After that, I was left alone. I walked down the beach past all sorts of wooden boats and sailing vessels pieced together from any material on hand. I wandered into a bungalow filled resort and was awed at the wealthy bubble guests were living in. Had I not been white I wouldn’t have been able to enter. I continued down the ever changing beach until I saw mangroves in the distance. I figured I should head back and on my way I was invited to sit with a couple. We chatted and they bought me coffee and a local dessert. I got their contact info and may end up reconnecting with them when I head to Zanzibar for a couple nights on my way home.

When I got back we had bread for dinner. It was delicious, best homemade bread I’ve ever had. I pieced together my first Swahili sentence. Ninakula mkate mzuri sana. I am eating very good bread. I also found out that they had been laughing at me earlier for the insanely small bites of ugali I was taking. Apparently you are supposed to grab a good fistful, not a finger-full. I read the kids a bed time story then headed to bed myself. The power was out as usual so I wrote and read a bit. Once I turned off my headlight, I discovered how to truly appreciate the magic of Tanzania. All around my mosquito net fireflies swooped and danced in what I can only imagine were strange mating rituals. Every now and then one would alight on the netting then streak upwards spiraling and dipping until it calmly rejoined the others. I’m not sure how I ever fell asleep with all the strobing lights darting around my room. I can’t believe where I am, this is insane.

I started two projects today. The first is a scale I need to build to weigh out the ingredients for soap making and ginger beer brewing. Oh, I’m also going to make ginger beer with the kids, by the way. I managed to find a long strong stick and get some string. Now I just need two water jugs and to head into town to get some holes drilled in the wood. The other project was the initiation of the Tanzanian National Ultimate Frisbee Team. They don’t know it yet, but the orphans here will soon be famous Olympic athletes. I was surprised at the ease at which they were able to throw the frisbee having never seen one before. I can’t wait to see where they can go with it.

I learned the struggle of teaching a kid to read. I have been assigned the worst readers in the school and I can’t explain how difficult the jump from knowing the letters to piecing together their sounds is. I’m glad I have acted before because I know patience is needed when doing work like this but so far just acting like I have patience is all that has gotten me through. It is so unbelievably frustrating, except, I know that if the students even sense the slightest disbelief on my part they will completely shut down. I spent a 30 minute session just convincing a second grader to open her mouth and repeat the sound “AH”. This is by far the most difficult thing I have done all year. I can’t wait to see these kids read!

I went into town with Juma and we ran a bunch of errands. We picked up my new pone and SIM card, got soap making ingredients and explored the massive market that snaked through the streets of at least 10 city blocks. After relaxing on the street for an hour we hit up the tourist restaurant for dinner and crashed a music video set. I tried the Tanzanian version of a burrito which frankly beats the Israeli style, by a lot. We chatted for hours and finally headed home to Baobab. I think I may have a friend here. I was shocked when during lunch a nearby field erupted into high flames and dark smoke clouded the sky. The kids started screaming “Moto!”. Terri told me that it was a neighbor’s controlled slash and burn. Nothing to worry about, except the environment.

I got to experience my first water shortage during a power outage. I washed myself in the dark bathroom with a small bucket. Luckily, I spotted a couple frogs and a cockroach so I wasn’t alone. (Random side note: the orange and black frogs here are very odd, instead of hopping the crawl backwards.) Apart from dropping a metal bucket filled with water on my head, I would say it was a success. The trickle of water from the shower head is very welcome. It is less water than the stream from the faucet back home but I don’t think I’ve enjoyed getting clean ever so much. Plus, it saves way more water than the showers I’m used to.

After working on reading the word “whale” for five minutes my young pupil was wiping away tears. This work is so tough. My students are the ones who have failed to learn to read in the past. What can I do that hasn’t already been tried? In my frustration and exasperation I can’t help be amazed by the number of words these kids memorized to get this far in school without ever learning even the letters. They are also fabulous at guessing new words based off the picture. I need to figure out how to disrupt this system of memorizing word shapes and break through the seemingly impenetrable stubbornness that prevents them from relearning reading the right way, by piecing together letters. I hope I can stick with it, but part of me worries I’m not up to the task.

My first run in Tanzania failed miserably. I was walking down the road, finally exploring the neighborhood, when one of the Baobab workers stopped me and asked if I wanted to go on a run. I hesitantly said yes because he was one of the people I hoped to become friends with, although I thought it was a little too hot for exercise. We headed home to change into running clothes. As I left the house Terri casually mentioned how much endurance Pascal, my running partner, had. I came ready in my most runnable clothes: t-shirt, compression shorts, cargo shorts and walking shoes. We took off down the road at a comfortable pace and I felt good. As we ran into the wind with the sun at our backs I thought about the awkward dynamic between running partners who were essentially strangers. I didn’t want to suggest turning around and cut his run short but I also didn’t want to push him past his limit. Finally, I started to tire and decided to let him know so we could begin the trek home. He mentioned a roundabout just ahead and I figured we may as well make it there. By this point my head was pretty hot and I was dripping sweat. I’m not used to the heat. I was pushing myself and was glad he suggested a break when we finally reached the distant turnaround point. Normally, I never stop on a run, even at traffic lights, I just jog in place. So, hopefully, my need for a rest can tell you how out of shape and exhausted I was after not running much for months. I

happened to notice a sign that said: “Bagamoyo 1 km.” I knew we lived 6 km from Bagamoyo so I joked with Pascali about the distance. He said in all seriousness “Yes! A 10 km run is a great first run!” We started up again and I knew I wouldn’t make it. Jogging into the sun was absolutely miserable and my brain started to broil. I couldn’t take the heat. Finally, I told Pascali how dead I was and, with many apologies, how I just couldn’t make it back. This inability to push through the suffering was a new experience for me. He kept saying, “No, it is simple, so simple, just run!” But I was focused on rubbing more sweat onto my face to try to cool down. I was a mess. I asked if I could take a bajaji home as, by some divine intervention, I had thought to put some money in my pocket ahead of time. He told me I could take a pikipiki, AKA the motorcycle taxi we were warned not to take as accidents were very common. I readily agreed and hopped on the next one. As I rode home, unable to stop smiling because the wind was cooling my face and I didn’t have to run, I made conversation with the driver using all 10 of my Swahili words. I later found out I ran 7 km, ridiculous. I bought myself a cold soda out of the fallen, broken, but ice filled, refrigerator of the neighborhood store and sat shirtless on the porch trying to catch a breeze. Can’t wait to go running again tomorrow!

I think the sky is bigger in Africa. Every sunset is stunningly gorgeous; vibrant, radiating colors merge into the darkening sky. Every cloud grouping is illuminated with a vastly different shade. There are ominous shadowy purple clouds clawing at the bright orange glow peeking over the horizon. This morphs into a deep neon pink which is partially obscured by brilliant glowing yellow cotton candy. Above this the pearly white puffs stretch into the unreal blue. It looks like someone smeared a rainbow through the sky then splatter painted all over it. Of course, very soon the whole scene is replaced by the most stars I have ever seen. A bright moon will rise lighting up the shadowy trees and grasslands. And then there are the rains. Foreboding fleets advance across the sky with the most intriguing underwater blues and grays and purples. They meet in devastating showdowns with blinding cracks of light ripping apart the air. You hear the drenching downpour first. Then you see the wave traveling across the grasses as they bend under the unrelenting drops. The world is sepia toned. The roar builds and the edge of the storm approaches spreading a dark stain across the dirt. Lastly, you see the wall of water and then it is upon you. All senses are muted by the overwhelming scent of rain and ozone and the deafening onslaught on the metal roof. Somehow, the sky is bigger in Africa, the heavens unleash all their glory on the biggest stage in the world.