It means “Smile! Life is a gift!” and I started saying it last year to those students who for one reason or another, don't look remotely happy to be in class. Inevitably it invokes a smile or a chuckle even if they are laughing at the stupid mzungu teacher using a made up Swahili proverb.
But in the past few months here in Tanzania, it has been a helpful reminder for me as well. Sometimes it's easy to get pissed off, frustrated, disillusioned, etc, etc, etc. But then when I've got a moment to myself to reflect, perhaps on a run, or a bike ride to the market, or reading in my hammock staring out the window, or being overwhelmed once more by the natural beauty around me, I remember that I'm so thankful for this opportunity.
And it doesn't even have to be a big “Aha!” moment. Something like Jeremiah, the 2-year-old next door, flashing his smile and calling out “Day-ah” (as in “Andrea” [Ahn-DRAY-ah], my name in Swahili). Or admiring the endless crops dug, tilled, planted, weeded, and harvested by calloused, experienced hands and taut, rock-hard muscles. Or seeing charcoal, sugar, and soda vendors stacking their goods on their bikes, most often perilously high, yet maneuvering their loads around rocks and over roots to get to their customers. Or watching children get endless amusement out of sticks and using them to propel an old bike wheel or tire. Or chatting with Mr. Mwakalobo, my favorite, wise, old, informed teacher at Ngana, about current affairs, American vs. Tanzanian politics, or the latest conspiracy theory regarding the death of a local politician. Or investing the time into cooking a really good meal or sharing one with neighbors. Or being a student of life, where the courses are Simplicity, Humility, Patience and Gratefulness 101. Or simply living and laughing and crying and yelling and sharing and loving with a unique group of people that I probably wouldn't otherwise have the chance to share these experiences with. I just read this book called “Dark Star Safari” by travel writer Paul Theroux (who is also a former PCV in Malawi) about his overland journey from Cairo to Cape Town. In it he says: “The human side of Africa is an afternoon visit to a colorful village.” I couldn't agree more.
I'm also finding cause to smile after a couple conversations I recently had. In April, after visiting some other PCVs at their sites in other parts of Mbeya region, my friend Meesh and I got a ride from a local parliament member who had been visiting his shamba, or farmland. We got to talking as we rolled north through bush- and coffee-covered hills, in the shadow of larger mountains looming over downtown Mbeya Town, and when he heard we were Peace Corps Volunteers, he mentioned that he had been taught by one in secondary school. I hesitated, but I had to ask if that volunteer had influenced or motivated him to be where he was today. It was a self-serving question, and I suspect he might have realized that, but when he said “Oh, yes!” with enthusiasm, I felt a little better that perhaps what I am doing here, might bear fruit sometime in the not too distant future.
And a couple weeks ago I met with Mr. Mgina, my counterpart for the water project we are doing at his school, to give him the exciting news about our grant being accepted. Over a beer, his the usual Safari Lager, mine a Serengeti with its slight amber ale taste (the closest thing I will get to a microbrew here), we got to talking about politics and foreign aid. I've often had doubts about the effectiveness of foreign volunteers and governments devoting so much time and money to places like Tanzania when often it seems like Tanzanians don't necessarily want what we are offering and its creating a sort of dependency. But if there are things to be gained, it seems to me that it does need to be from this “grassroots” level, living in solidarity with the people, with respect for their history, customs, and point of view. I asked Geofrey if he felt my and other volunteers’ presence here was helping or hurting, and he emphatically said, that though many times Tanzanians don’t recognize a good thing when they’ve got it and just need time to have the word get out about what can be accomplished with something like a PCV, there are people out there, him especially, that see the value that PCVs bring to their communities. The pessimist in me wants to say, “But they’ve been here for going on 50 years and not much has changed.” But I also drew a lot of hope from his commitment to working together with volunteers and wanting to give back to his community.
And even as I boarded a bus to come to Dar in the early morning hours four days ago, a bus ride I didn’t really want to be making in order to formally resign from Peace Corps, I watched as small children walked perilously close to the buses screaming passed them, walking by themselves or giggling with a friend in their smart uniforms with a sweater in the Tanzanian national colors, and thought that though many probably will lose the desire learn or be let down by their educators and system, for now, they are trying and I guess I feel proud to be a part of attempting to help them succeed. And I smiled.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
The Long Awaited Q&A Blog
in the end only three people got back to me, but they are great questions nonetheless, so here they are with the appropriate answers:
What foods do you cook and eat in Tanzania? What do you eat with neighbors? What do Tanzanians cook? (Submitted by former PCV and loving sister, Kristin Mull)
For breakfast during the week, I always have a cup of tea with some sort of bread (toasted generic purchased white bread with cinnamon & sugar or PB&J, or a loaf of banana, pumpkin, or oatmeal honey that I've baked in a big pot on the charcoal stove) and fruit (almost always bananas, but when in season mangoes, pineapples, tangerines, and pears, or any of the crazy tropical fruits in Tanzania). Sometimes I'll have oatmeal, and sometimes I might fry up some plantains and a couple eggs. On the weekends I usually have one day of pancakes or crepes (smothered with Nutella I bought in Mbeya!)
My weekly dinner cooking schedule usually consists of 2-3 nights of spaghetti cooked on the kersosene stove and 2-3 nights of rice with some sort of vegetables cooked on the charcoal stove/brazier. I usually reserve the spaghetti for nights when I'm particularly lazy and want a quick fix. I've collected a sizable amount of pasta sauce mixes sent from the States, so those are really easy, but occasionally I'll make a tomato sauce (this week I made it with a giant mushroom I bought at the market—I was assured it was not poisonous, and sure enough I'm still here) and I can make a pretty mean alfredo sauce from scratch. The only things missing are some parmesean cheese and a bottle of wine! For those nights of rice and veggies I might stir fry carrots, green peppers, onions, garlic, and ginger with soy sauce and any other veggies around (okra, eggplant, peas, or local greens). I also make a legit sweet and sour sauce, and a Thai-style yellow curry with curry powder and coconut powder which are readily available anywhere. This week I made an eggplant based curry with tikka masala spices from Zanzibar. When I can get my hands on some cheese in Mbeya (maybe every month or two), I've been trying new recipes from the cookbooks I have. Scalloped potatoes, pizza, tuna croquettes (like a tuna fish cake) are a few of my favorites, and eggplant casserole, stuffed peppers, and spaghetti carbonara are next on my list.
Lunch during the week is provided by the school. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday is rice and beans (my favorite!), Tuesday is ugali (the local carb staple made by mixing water and corn flour: i would say it's like a hot stiff loaf of corn flour and water) and beef cooked in a tomato, onion, and oil sauce, and Thursday is ugali and beans. Because I don't make the effort to buy meat (it's not all that good really, but maybe that's because it's naturally raised), and beans take forever to cook, lunch is my opportunity to get the day's protein serving. I'm such a fan of rice and beans here, that I'm convinced I could eat it once a day and have no qualms! One of my favorite times of the week is Sunday evenings when I go to my neighbors, the Manjua's, for dinner. Aside from the best rice and beans I've ever had with cooked greens, spiced-rice called pilau with meat or potatoes and a salad called kachumbari (onions, tomatoes, and lime juice), peas and rice, or chicken and tomato sauce, it's a great time to shoot the breeze with my psuedo-host family, talk about the latest news, and torment Johnny (age 9) with tickling and playful mocking about the fact that he likes Manchester United though his dad likes Chelsea (especially now that Chelsea won the league this year!)
Tanzanians in general really like ugali and if they can afford to, they'll eat it with meat or small fish known as dagaa (which I used to feed to my old cat, I liked it that much), but in general they probably eat it with beans (11 out of 14 lunch or dinner meals for boarding students at Ngana are ugali and beans). Rice is seen as somewhat of a luxury even though Kyela District where I live is purported to have the best rice in the country. During maize harvesting season, kande, beans stewed with fresh corn kernels, is really popular. Breakfast is usually uji which is porridge made of whatever flour is available usually just corn flour and water. Mama Anita Manjua makes a really good uji of corn, millet, and peanut flours. They also eat chapatis and maandazi (which are like simple deep fried doughnuts) with sweet tea often brewed with milk. In November of 2008 when I was first coming to site, my first breakfast at the border town after busing for a day with my headmaster was chicken soup and a Fanta. For some reason they like soup in the morning, but I can't do it. At a restaurant, I like to get chipsi mayai which is chips (aka french fries) cooked into a simple omelet and top it with a really good Tanzanian bottled chili sauce. Roasted cooking bananas, hard boiled eggs, mishkaki (beef kebabs), roasted or boiled peanuts, and roasted maize are popular snacks that you can find in almost any town or major bus stop.
-What has been your favorite experience in Africa? What do you miss here and what will you miss from there? What is the first thing you are going to do when you are back stateside? (Submitted by fellow SCU '08 grad and stand-up guy, Paul Andrews)
Hands down, my favorite experience was planning and helping run the Girls Empowerment Conference we (8 PCVs) put on last June for about 65 girls from 9 primary and secondary schools in Mbeya Region. Over the course of 5 days, we talked about HIV/AIDS and girls health education, decision making skills, goal setting, gender roles (to name a few), and played plenty of goofy mzungu ice breakers. To see their excitement and participation, laughter and playfulness, and gratefulness for being given the opportunity to participate in something so important, was truly inspiring and will stay with me long after I'm gone. Given the opportunity and with a little courage, females in this country will do amazing things.
I miss cold milk with a meal when I want it. I miss refrigeration in general. I miss sandwiches. I miss fast reliable internet and being able to use it at my leisure. I miss having a comfortable seat on public transportation. I miss American sports, specifically watching them live and the traditions we all have before attending them. I miss barbecues, microbrews, and taking 3 hours to eat a meal with loved ones. But most of all, I miss you, my family and friends.
There are plenty of things I will miss from here. More than anything, I will miss the simplicity of life which has taught to be humble and given me appreciation for just about everything. I will miss the candlelit evenings. I will miss the bluest sky and brightest and most stars I have ever seen. I will miss being in a country where my favorite sport is everyone else's favorite sport and being able to watch it pretty much anywhere. I will miss Johnny, Jeremiah, Erasi, Huruma, Violet, Jack, Friend, Nuru, Vumilia, Allen, Mussa, and the countless other children who always seem to be smiling and in so doing bring a smile to my face. I will miss them drawing with chalk on my front steps. I will miss the rice and beans, pilau, mangoes, pineapples, tiny bananas, and other delicious tropical fruits. I will miss the fact that all the fresh food I eat is locally grown and humanely raised. I will miss the rain beating down on my corrugated metal roof and the thunderstorms. I will miss the joy of receiving a thoughtful letter from a friend. I will miss being able to greet a complete stranger and not be thought a weirdo. I will miss the incredible beauty of rolling hills, dramatic mountains, fields of maize and rice and cassava, the lake shore, and blood orange sunsets. And I will miss the friends who have welcomed me without reservation and allowed me to call Tanzania home for the last two years.
I've often thought about the first thing I would do upon returning to the US, and it's hard to figure out. I guess since I'll probably get home some time in November or December, the first thing I'll do and really enjoy is getting bundled up with a warm hat and sweatshirt or coat and being cold and sleeping with more than a sheet. Who knows, maybe a freak snow storm will hit Washington the night I arrive, and can play in the snow for the first time in a long long time? I'll probably gorge myself on my mom's Christmas baked goods. And I'm sure I'll give lots of long hugs to everyone and take plenty of time to catch up with them in person and on the phone and internet which won't be a hassle or hard to do.
-What do you miss most about home (ie Snohomish, WA)? What's the first thing you are going to do when you get back to the greatest state in the world? (Submitted by SCU '03 grad (Go Broncos! Representin'SCU!), aspiring Everest climber, and Washington enthusiast, Jim Freeburg)
I miss summers there: grilling salmon or burgers or brats on the back deck, lawn sports, hanging out on the lakes, cold bottles of Pyramid Hefeweizen, and the long days that seem to last forever. I miss the Catholic Triangle—the Yates' & Freeburgs (plus the Engels)—who all grew up together in Snohomish and who is my second family. I miss the view of Mount Rainier from my bedroom window and of Mount Baker from Homeacres Road in the valley. I miss the sunsets that leave such amazing colors in the sky. I miss seeing large yards or acreage of just grass. I miss the mountains. And I miss the apples.
I guess I sort of already said what my first thing back home would be, but Washington specific? Hmmm, maybe just being able to take in the beautiful view of downtown Seattle and Puget Sound as you approach it from the south, and being supremely grateful for the relative order and structure, and marvel at the giant buildings. And if I get stuck in traffic, which is a good possibility, being thankful that I'm in a private car on a good road, and that in the grand scheme of things, what's one or two hours when we've got our whole lives ahead of us?
What foods do you cook and eat in Tanzania? What do you eat with neighbors? What do Tanzanians cook? (Submitted by former PCV and loving sister, Kristin Mull)
For breakfast during the week, I always have a cup of tea with some sort of bread (toasted generic purchased white bread with cinnamon & sugar or PB&J, or a loaf of banana, pumpkin, or oatmeal honey that I've baked in a big pot on the charcoal stove) and fruit (almost always bananas, but when in season mangoes, pineapples, tangerines, and pears, or any of the crazy tropical fruits in Tanzania). Sometimes I'll have oatmeal, and sometimes I might fry up some plantains and a couple eggs. On the weekends I usually have one day of pancakes or crepes (smothered with Nutella I bought in Mbeya!)
My weekly dinner cooking schedule usually consists of 2-3 nights of spaghetti cooked on the kersosene stove and 2-3 nights of rice with some sort of vegetables cooked on the charcoal stove/brazier. I usually reserve the spaghetti for nights when I'm particularly lazy and want a quick fix. I've collected a sizable amount of pasta sauce mixes sent from the States, so those are really easy, but occasionally I'll make a tomato sauce (this week I made it with a giant mushroom I bought at the market—I was assured it was not poisonous, and sure enough I'm still here) and I can make a pretty mean alfredo sauce from scratch. The only things missing are some parmesean cheese and a bottle of wine! For those nights of rice and veggies I might stir fry carrots, green peppers, onions, garlic, and ginger with soy sauce and any other veggies around (okra, eggplant, peas, or local greens). I also make a legit sweet and sour sauce, and a Thai-style yellow curry with curry powder and coconut powder which are readily available anywhere. This week I made an eggplant based curry with tikka masala spices from Zanzibar. When I can get my hands on some cheese in Mbeya (maybe every month or two), I've been trying new recipes from the cookbooks I have. Scalloped potatoes, pizza, tuna croquettes (like a tuna fish cake) are a few of my favorites, and eggplant casserole, stuffed peppers, and spaghetti carbonara are next on my list.
Lunch during the week is provided by the school. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday is rice and beans (my favorite!), Tuesday is ugali (the local carb staple made by mixing water and corn flour: i would say it's like a hot stiff loaf of corn flour and water) and beef cooked in a tomato, onion, and oil sauce, and Thursday is ugali and beans. Because I don't make the effort to buy meat (it's not all that good really, but maybe that's because it's naturally raised), and beans take forever to cook, lunch is my opportunity to get the day's protein serving. I'm such a fan of rice and beans here, that I'm convinced I could eat it once a day and have no qualms! One of my favorite times of the week is Sunday evenings when I go to my neighbors, the Manjua's, for dinner. Aside from the best rice and beans I've ever had with cooked greens, spiced-rice called pilau with meat or potatoes and a salad called kachumbari (onions, tomatoes, and lime juice), peas and rice, or chicken and tomato sauce, it's a great time to shoot the breeze with my psuedo-host family, talk about the latest news, and torment Johnny (age 9) with tickling and playful mocking about the fact that he likes Manchester United though his dad likes Chelsea (especially now that Chelsea won the league this year!)
Tanzanians in general really like ugali and if they can afford to, they'll eat it with meat or small fish known as dagaa (which I used to feed to my old cat, I liked it that much), but in general they probably eat it with beans (11 out of 14 lunch or dinner meals for boarding students at Ngana are ugali and beans). Rice is seen as somewhat of a luxury even though Kyela District where I live is purported to have the best rice in the country. During maize harvesting season, kande, beans stewed with fresh corn kernels, is really popular. Breakfast is usually uji which is porridge made of whatever flour is available usually just corn flour and water. Mama Anita Manjua makes a really good uji of corn, millet, and peanut flours. They also eat chapatis and maandazi (which are like simple deep fried doughnuts) with sweet tea often brewed with milk. In November of 2008 when I was first coming to site, my first breakfast at the border town after busing for a day with my headmaster was chicken soup and a Fanta. For some reason they like soup in the morning, but I can't do it. At a restaurant, I like to get chipsi mayai which is chips (aka french fries) cooked into a simple omelet and top it with a really good Tanzanian bottled chili sauce. Roasted cooking bananas, hard boiled eggs, mishkaki (beef kebabs), roasted or boiled peanuts, and roasted maize are popular snacks that you can find in almost any town or major bus stop.
-What has been your favorite experience in Africa? What do you miss here and what will you miss from there? What is the first thing you are going to do when you are back stateside? (Submitted by fellow SCU '08 grad and stand-up guy, Paul Andrews)
Hands down, my favorite experience was planning and helping run the Girls Empowerment Conference we (8 PCVs) put on last June for about 65 girls from 9 primary and secondary schools in Mbeya Region. Over the course of 5 days, we talked about HIV/AIDS and girls health education, decision making skills, goal setting, gender roles (to name a few), and played plenty of goofy mzungu ice breakers. To see their excitement and participation, laughter and playfulness, and gratefulness for being given the opportunity to participate in something so important, was truly inspiring and will stay with me long after I'm gone. Given the opportunity and with a little courage, females in this country will do amazing things.
I miss cold milk with a meal when I want it. I miss refrigeration in general. I miss sandwiches. I miss fast reliable internet and being able to use it at my leisure. I miss having a comfortable seat on public transportation. I miss American sports, specifically watching them live and the traditions we all have before attending them. I miss barbecues, microbrews, and taking 3 hours to eat a meal with loved ones. But most of all, I miss you, my family and friends.
There are plenty of things I will miss from here. More than anything, I will miss the simplicity of life which has taught to be humble and given me appreciation for just about everything. I will miss the candlelit evenings. I will miss the bluest sky and brightest and most stars I have ever seen. I will miss being in a country where my favorite sport is everyone else's favorite sport and being able to watch it pretty much anywhere. I will miss Johnny, Jeremiah, Erasi, Huruma, Violet, Jack, Friend, Nuru, Vumilia, Allen, Mussa, and the countless other children who always seem to be smiling and in so doing bring a smile to my face. I will miss them drawing with chalk on my front steps. I will miss the rice and beans, pilau, mangoes, pineapples, tiny bananas, and other delicious tropical fruits. I will miss the fact that all the fresh food I eat is locally grown and humanely raised. I will miss the rain beating down on my corrugated metal roof and the thunderstorms. I will miss the joy of receiving a thoughtful letter from a friend. I will miss being able to greet a complete stranger and not be thought a weirdo. I will miss the incredible beauty of rolling hills, dramatic mountains, fields of maize and rice and cassava, the lake shore, and blood orange sunsets. And I will miss the friends who have welcomed me without reservation and allowed me to call Tanzania home for the last two years.
I've often thought about the first thing I would do upon returning to the US, and it's hard to figure out. I guess since I'll probably get home some time in November or December, the first thing I'll do and really enjoy is getting bundled up with a warm hat and sweatshirt or coat and being cold and sleeping with more than a sheet. Who knows, maybe a freak snow storm will hit Washington the night I arrive, and can play in the snow for the first time in a long long time? I'll probably gorge myself on my mom's Christmas baked goods. And I'm sure I'll give lots of long hugs to everyone and take plenty of time to catch up with them in person and on the phone and internet which won't be a hassle or hard to do.
-What do you miss most about home (ie Snohomish, WA)? What's the first thing you are going to do when you get back to the greatest state in the world? (Submitted by SCU '03 grad (Go Broncos! Representin'SCU!), aspiring Everest climber, and Washington enthusiast, Jim Freeburg)
I miss summers there: grilling salmon or burgers or brats on the back deck, lawn sports, hanging out on the lakes, cold bottles of Pyramid Hefeweizen, and the long days that seem to last forever. I miss the Catholic Triangle—the Yates' & Freeburgs (plus the Engels)—who all grew up together in Snohomish and who is my second family. I miss the view of Mount Rainier from my bedroom window and of Mount Baker from Homeacres Road in the valley. I miss the sunsets that leave such amazing colors in the sky. I miss seeing large yards or acreage of just grass. I miss the mountains. And I miss the apples.
I guess I sort of already said what my first thing back home would be, but Washington specific? Hmmm, maybe just being able to take in the beautiful view of downtown Seattle and Puget Sound as you approach it from the south, and being supremely grateful for the relative order and structure, and marvel at the giant buildings. And if I get stuck in traffic, which is a good possibility, being thankful that I'm in a private car on a good road, and that in the grand scheme of things, what's one or two hours when we've got our whole lives ahead of us?
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
ZAMBARAU HOYEE or FORZA VIOLA or GO PURPLE!!!
Since late August of last year, at about 9:30 or 10:30 PM on certain Tuesday or Wednesday nights, until just a few weeks ago, i have been braving the elements to arrive at the closest village, Jua Kali (Swahili for “fierce sun”) at the home of the man, Mr. Ruvanda (who has a satellite to get European games), in order to watch and cheer on my favorite football (as in soccer) team, Fiorentina. Lovingly called La Viola, “The Purple,” due to their vibrant and proudly worn purple jerseys, Fiorentina was playing in the biggest competition in Europe, the Champions League. From the initial qualifying stages, to their advancement to the Round of 16, i have walked (ran if necessary) or biked in the pitch black or under the light of a full moon or in the mud and pouring rain, through the local maize and cassava fields, knowing full well that when i woke up the next morning to teach i would be exhausted, all so that i could support my team like only a true fan can. Well, a week into March their run in the competition came to an end with a defeat (on a horrible missed call—more on that later) to the German team Bayern Munich.
Last August, I was able to watch, live, the team I had become connected to when I studied in Florence and have followed the most since (because let's be honest: no one enjoys watching professional American soccer), for the first time since I had left Firenze in 2007. Naturally, I had on my vintage Gabriel Batistuta (arguably their greatest player of all time) jersey, ready to show the other Tanzanians what it meant to be a die-hard fan of a team, not just a fan of a powerhouse like Manchester United or Chelsea. They were playing at the Portuguese side Sporting Lisbon for the right to play in the group stages with the 31 other best teams of Europe. To qualify they had to play a two game aggregate, meaning the team with the most goals after the 2 games advances, and in the event of a tie, the team with the most away goals goes through. The Italian league gets knocked quite a bit for not being as good as the English league, so I wanted so badly to show them that not only can Italians play football (Hello! They won the 2006 World Cup!), but that also my team is legit! I was understandably nervous, but when their winger/midfielder Juan Vargas put them ahead 1-0 on a cracking drive that found the back of the net, i went nuts, getting plenty of laughs from the other guys there. But to make things more nerve-wracking, the owner of the satellite, though not a fan of Arsenal (an English team), had to comply with the wishes of other Arsenal fans present, and thus would switch between the two games for 15 minutes at a time. Well, when they switched back to the Fiorentina game the first time, Lisbon had magically erased La Viola's lead, and were now ahead 2-1. I was crushed, losing the first game of the aggregate would not help their chances. But I held onto some hope and inside 80 minutes (ie only 10 minutes to go), went beserk, fist pumping, and jersey-twirling, as Fiorentina's star forward Alberto Gilardino got a crucial equalizer. The match ended 2-2 and with their 2 away goals held the advantage going back to Florence for the second leg of the aggregate. I wasn't able to watch the second game, but learned that they had advanced by drawing again, this time 1-1. So on aggregate it was 3-3, but since Fiorentina had gotten 2 away goals to Lisbon's 1 they went through!
The next task was to see which teams would be in Fiorentina's group, and i secretly wished for an English team, as that would increase the chances that I would be able to see more of their games, even though it would be more of a challenge. Well, I got my wish when they were grouped with powerhouse Liverpool, French side Lyon (who Fiorentina lost to in last year's Champions League group stage), and a Hungarian team. I figured if they played well enough they could beat out Lyon and give Liverpool a run for their money. Well, they lost their first match to Lyon (a repeat of last year?), but their next match was against Liverpool at home in Florence, and so in early september I threw on my Fiorentina jersey once more and anxiously made the trek to Mr. Ruvanda's house, having said my prayers, hoping for the best, or even just a tie. To make the plotline more interesting, Mr. Ruvanda is a Liverpool fan, posters plastering his wall, so I hoped Fiorentina would show him and the others what they were made of. The results were better than expected: on the first switch from the other English game we were watching, La Viola had gone ahead 1-0 on a Stefan Jovetic goal, and while we were watching Jovetic put another past the goalkeeper to make it 2-0. I made a little bit of noise, but i didn't want to upset Ruvanda too much so I kept it respectful. Throughout the rest of the game, i watched with bated breath as the Italian side played typically Italian stalwart defense, with some great goalkeeping by Sebastian Frey to maintain the 2-0 shutout, and give me bragging rights at school for the next few months: I could say my team beat their English team! When all the students and teachers know is English soccer, that's a good feeling! (And believe me, I let them know more than a few times who won that game!)
Four group games remained for Fiorentina, and they played the Hungarian team twice, winning both handedly, before the rematch with Lyon. The South African channels that feed the games to the rest of Africa chose not to show the game, but the next morning i was delighted to hear on the daily BBC sports report that Fiorentina was victorious 1-nil. Not only did that put them at the top of their group, it also clinched their place in the next round, their first time in the knock-out phase since the mid-nineties when Batistuta led them there. It was definitely a good time to be a Viola fan!
But there was still another game with Liverpool, this time in England. At this point it was early December and I was on Zanzibar with my parents. You might think I would want to relax and get a good night's sleep like the rents, but I proudly sported my jersey and headed out into the dark Stone Town night hoping to find a bar that would be showing the game. They had to right? It was Liverpool after all. No dice. I wandered for longer than was probably wise until I eventually found a group of men watching a TV set up in the street, but they were watching Barcelona's game. So I settled for watching the best team in the world (Barcelona won last year's Champion's League Final: Europe's version of the Super Bowl), and getting a half time score of Fiorentina's game: they were losing 1-0. I wasn't too hopeful, and I wasn't seeing the game, so i headed back to the hotel to get some shut eye. The next day however, when i checked the internet, i was astounded and filled with plenty of pride to see that Fiorentina had come back to win 2-1 off of a late goal by the star Gilardino. Two wins over Liverpool?! If you had told me that was going to happen before the competition, I wouldn't have believed you. But with gutsy play and determination La Viola pulled it out, and the victory gave them 5 total to finish atop the group, and the privilege of getting drawn against a second place team from another group. (To be fair to Liverpool, they are having an off year this year, but I don't care too much, because this season I can say my team is better than your team!)
Up next for Fiorentina? Bayern Munich in the Round of 16: Don't perform and you go home. Having lost to Munich in the Champions League group stage last year, and knowing that historically they are one of Europe's best teams, I was nervous about this match up, and bummed that they didn't draw a worse second place team such as from Russia, Greece, or Portugal. The format for the knockout phase (until the Final) is aggregate, and fortunately, Fiorentina had the advantage of playing the second game at home. First though, they had to play well in Germany. So again I found myself meandering the paths to Mr. Ruvanda's house on February 17 to root my team to victory, though plenty nervous about what the outcome would be. I also had to once again compete with the Arsenal fans, whose team was playing at the same time. During one segment away from the Fiorentina game, they had gone behind 1-0, so naturally I was worried. But they pulled even on a rebound goal off a corner kick by the unknown defenseman Per Kroldrup which was a crucial away goal. The half ended 1-1. Then in the hotly contested second half, the referees apparently forgot their wits in the locker room, because first, the head ref gave a straight red card to a Fiorentina player which should have just been a yellow card reducing their side to 10 men (we were actually on the Arsenal game at this point so I can't verify this, but good buddy, high school teammate, and fellow loyal defender of the quality of Italian soccer, Mark Symington, did, so i believe him). Then inside 80 minutes, Munich got a goal off a header, but the linesman must have been smoking something at the time, as he failed to notice that the goal scorer was 3 to 4 yards (or more) offsides. So what should have been a huge tie and a huge advantage heading back to Florence for Fiorentina, was unjustly and heinously stolen from them by a couple of idiot refs and instead was a 2-1 loss!
But with the away goal they got, there was still hope. And on March 9, I braved the pouring rain to ride my bike back to Jua Kali for a do or die situation: win 1-0 or by a 2 goal margin and they would go through to the quarterfinals. Anything else, and they were out. Tensions were high (at least for me: I'm sure the Tanzanians didn't really care), but i started believing when Juan Vargas got a truly incredible goal from what looked like an impossible angle to put them ahead 1-0 after about 20 minutes. The half ended that way, but in the second half upon switching back from the Arsenal game, the score was 2-1 in favor of Fiorentina (after a goal from Jovetic). That scoreline was alright, but if it remained that way after 90 minutes the game would go to extra time and potentially a penalty shootout to decide the winner (because a 2-1 victory for Fiorentina would be 3-3 on aggregate with both teams having 1 away goal). So, when inside 60 minutes played, Jovetic got his second goal of the game by slotting it through the keeper's legs, I understandably went nuts with excitement, then quickly composed myself and started saying lots of Hail Marys that Fiorentina would protect their lead. It wasn't meant to be though because in less than a minute after their goal, Munich's winger had a absolutely beautiful shot sail into the upper V past the helpless outstretched arms of Frey. 3-2 Fiorentina, 4-4 on aggregate, but with 2 away goals, Munich had the tie-breaker. I think the quick goal really sucked the life out of Fiorentina's players because they could never really mount an attack on goal in the remaining 20 minutes, and though the game ended in a victory for La Viola, the aggregate scoreline spelled defeat and an exit from the Champions League. To make the losing feeling worse, as I walked out of the house into the late rainy season night, none of the Tanzanians offered me a “Pole” (meaning “Sorry”) or “But they played well...” (Sympathy in defeat doesn't really exist here). But again, I must reiterate that the loss was through no fault of Fiorentina's, and they were not so much beaten by the other side, as they were beaten by the referees! If the ref had pulled his head out of his (insert expletive here), and called that dude offsides in the first game, they would have tied 1-1 and then would have advanced 4-3 on aggregate with the 3-2 victory. Oh well, as Forest Gump liked to say: (insert expletive here) happens! If anything, Fiorentina can now focus on salvaging their Italian league season where they are currently 11th out of 20 teams because they have been devoting so much effort to performing well in the Champions League...
[As a corollary to this story, to celebrate Fiorentina's memory in the Champions League, i have been releasing my own inner Jovetic and Gilardino on the soccer pitch by scoring 5 goals in 3 games that we teachers played the week after Fiorentina’s loss for my first goals in Tanzania! Having played goalkeeper growing up, scoring goals is rare and though the defenses probably weren't top notch, it was still a damn good feeling! In the first game we played the form II students, and I had a beautiful one-time shot from the edge of the penalty box curl around the keeper just inside the post, and another after a 2 on 1 break away. We won 3-1. In the second game we played the form III students, and after going down 1-0, we mounted a comeback: i got the first goal by knocking home a loose ball off a corner and we went on to win 3-1. Then in the third and most dramatic three Tuesdays ago, we invited the teachers of local rival secondary school, Masukira, to Ngana for a friendly match. With students from both schools lining the sidelines, and neighborhood village bragging rights at stake, i put us ahead 1-0 after chesting down a lovely through ball, taking a step to compose myself and then slotting the ball past the helpless keeper and into the net. The students went crazy! The first half ended 3-0 Ngana, with us in firm control of the game. The second half started and Masukira got the first goal of the half which could have spelled danger and a comeback, but i made sure that didn't happen by putting away my second of the game: i was running onto a ball sent over the top of the defense, and as it bounced up i noticed that the keeper had come off his line, so i deftly popped a little header over him and into the back of the net. Ngana 4, Masukira 1 and with no hope of recovery. We added another off a beautifully struck curling upper V shot to finish the game 5-1 to many hollers of approval from the students. The only things that were missing were the squeez-its and granola bars after the game, and my mom screaming her head off!]
Last August, I was able to watch, live, the team I had become connected to when I studied in Florence and have followed the most since (because let's be honest: no one enjoys watching professional American soccer), for the first time since I had left Firenze in 2007. Naturally, I had on my vintage Gabriel Batistuta (arguably their greatest player of all time) jersey, ready to show the other Tanzanians what it meant to be a die-hard fan of a team, not just a fan of a powerhouse like Manchester United or Chelsea. They were playing at the Portuguese side Sporting Lisbon for the right to play in the group stages with the 31 other best teams of Europe. To qualify they had to play a two game aggregate, meaning the team with the most goals after the 2 games advances, and in the event of a tie, the team with the most away goals goes through. The Italian league gets knocked quite a bit for not being as good as the English league, so I wanted so badly to show them that not only can Italians play football (Hello! They won the 2006 World Cup!), but that also my team is legit! I was understandably nervous, but when their winger/midfielder Juan Vargas put them ahead 1-0 on a cracking drive that found the back of the net, i went nuts, getting plenty of laughs from the other guys there. But to make things more nerve-wracking, the owner of the satellite, though not a fan of Arsenal (an English team), had to comply with the wishes of other Arsenal fans present, and thus would switch between the two games for 15 minutes at a time. Well, when they switched back to the Fiorentina game the first time, Lisbon had magically erased La Viola's lead, and were now ahead 2-1. I was crushed, losing the first game of the aggregate would not help their chances. But I held onto some hope and inside 80 minutes (ie only 10 minutes to go), went beserk, fist pumping, and jersey-twirling, as Fiorentina's star forward Alberto Gilardino got a crucial equalizer. The match ended 2-2 and with their 2 away goals held the advantage going back to Florence for the second leg of the aggregate. I wasn't able to watch the second game, but learned that they had advanced by drawing again, this time 1-1. So on aggregate it was 3-3, but since Fiorentina had gotten 2 away goals to Lisbon's 1 they went through!
The next task was to see which teams would be in Fiorentina's group, and i secretly wished for an English team, as that would increase the chances that I would be able to see more of their games, even though it would be more of a challenge. Well, I got my wish when they were grouped with powerhouse Liverpool, French side Lyon (who Fiorentina lost to in last year's Champions League group stage), and a Hungarian team. I figured if they played well enough they could beat out Lyon and give Liverpool a run for their money. Well, they lost their first match to Lyon (a repeat of last year?), but their next match was against Liverpool at home in Florence, and so in early september I threw on my Fiorentina jersey once more and anxiously made the trek to Mr. Ruvanda's house, having said my prayers, hoping for the best, or even just a tie. To make the plotline more interesting, Mr. Ruvanda is a Liverpool fan, posters plastering his wall, so I hoped Fiorentina would show him and the others what they were made of. The results were better than expected: on the first switch from the other English game we were watching, La Viola had gone ahead 1-0 on a Stefan Jovetic goal, and while we were watching Jovetic put another past the goalkeeper to make it 2-0. I made a little bit of noise, but i didn't want to upset Ruvanda too much so I kept it respectful. Throughout the rest of the game, i watched with bated breath as the Italian side played typically Italian stalwart defense, with some great goalkeeping by Sebastian Frey to maintain the 2-0 shutout, and give me bragging rights at school for the next few months: I could say my team beat their English team! When all the students and teachers know is English soccer, that's a good feeling! (And believe me, I let them know more than a few times who won that game!)
Four group games remained for Fiorentina, and they played the Hungarian team twice, winning both handedly, before the rematch with Lyon. The South African channels that feed the games to the rest of Africa chose not to show the game, but the next morning i was delighted to hear on the daily BBC sports report that Fiorentina was victorious 1-nil. Not only did that put them at the top of their group, it also clinched their place in the next round, their first time in the knock-out phase since the mid-nineties when Batistuta led them there. It was definitely a good time to be a Viola fan!
But there was still another game with Liverpool, this time in England. At this point it was early December and I was on Zanzibar with my parents. You might think I would want to relax and get a good night's sleep like the rents, but I proudly sported my jersey and headed out into the dark Stone Town night hoping to find a bar that would be showing the game. They had to right? It was Liverpool after all. No dice. I wandered for longer than was probably wise until I eventually found a group of men watching a TV set up in the street, but they were watching Barcelona's game. So I settled for watching the best team in the world (Barcelona won last year's Champion's League Final: Europe's version of the Super Bowl), and getting a half time score of Fiorentina's game: they were losing 1-0. I wasn't too hopeful, and I wasn't seeing the game, so i headed back to the hotel to get some shut eye. The next day however, when i checked the internet, i was astounded and filled with plenty of pride to see that Fiorentina had come back to win 2-1 off of a late goal by the star Gilardino. Two wins over Liverpool?! If you had told me that was going to happen before the competition, I wouldn't have believed you. But with gutsy play and determination La Viola pulled it out, and the victory gave them 5 total to finish atop the group, and the privilege of getting drawn against a second place team from another group. (To be fair to Liverpool, they are having an off year this year, but I don't care too much, because this season I can say my team is better than your team!)
Up next for Fiorentina? Bayern Munich in the Round of 16: Don't perform and you go home. Having lost to Munich in the Champions League group stage last year, and knowing that historically they are one of Europe's best teams, I was nervous about this match up, and bummed that they didn't draw a worse second place team such as from Russia, Greece, or Portugal. The format for the knockout phase (until the Final) is aggregate, and fortunately, Fiorentina had the advantage of playing the second game at home. First though, they had to play well in Germany. So again I found myself meandering the paths to Mr. Ruvanda's house on February 17 to root my team to victory, though plenty nervous about what the outcome would be. I also had to once again compete with the Arsenal fans, whose team was playing at the same time. During one segment away from the Fiorentina game, they had gone behind 1-0, so naturally I was worried. But they pulled even on a rebound goal off a corner kick by the unknown defenseman Per Kroldrup which was a crucial away goal. The half ended 1-1. Then in the hotly contested second half, the referees apparently forgot their wits in the locker room, because first, the head ref gave a straight red card to a Fiorentina player which should have just been a yellow card reducing their side to 10 men (we were actually on the Arsenal game at this point so I can't verify this, but good buddy, high school teammate, and fellow loyal defender of the quality of Italian soccer, Mark Symington, did, so i believe him). Then inside 80 minutes, Munich got a goal off a header, but the linesman must have been smoking something at the time, as he failed to notice that the goal scorer was 3 to 4 yards (or more) offsides. So what should have been a huge tie and a huge advantage heading back to Florence for Fiorentina, was unjustly and heinously stolen from them by a couple of idiot refs and instead was a 2-1 loss!
But with the away goal they got, there was still hope. And on March 9, I braved the pouring rain to ride my bike back to Jua Kali for a do or die situation: win 1-0 or by a 2 goal margin and they would go through to the quarterfinals. Anything else, and they were out. Tensions were high (at least for me: I'm sure the Tanzanians didn't really care), but i started believing when Juan Vargas got a truly incredible goal from what looked like an impossible angle to put them ahead 1-0 after about 20 minutes. The half ended that way, but in the second half upon switching back from the Arsenal game, the score was 2-1 in favor of Fiorentina (after a goal from Jovetic). That scoreline was alright, but if it remained that way after 90 minutes the game would go to extra time and potentially a penalty shootout to decide the winner (because a 2-1 victory for Fiorentina would be 3-3 on aggregate with both teams having 1 away goal). So, when inside 60 minutes played, Jovetic got his second goal of the game by slotting it through the keeper's legs, I understandably went nuts with excitement, then quickly composed myself and started saying lots of Hail Marys that Fiorentina would protect their lead. It wasn't meant to be though because in less than a minute after their goal, Munich's winger had a absolutely beautiful shot sail into the upper V past the helpless outstretched arms of Frey. 3-2 Fiorentina, 4-4 on aggregate, but with 2 away goals, Munich had the tie-breaker. I think the quick goal really sucked the life out of Fiorentina's players because they could never really mount an attack on goal in the remaining 20 minutes, and though the game ended in a victory for La Viola, the aggregate scoreline spelled defeat and an exit from the Champions League. To make the losing feeling worse, as I walked out of the house into the late rainy season night, none of the Tanzanians offered me a “Pole” (meaning “Sorry”) or “But they played well...” (Sympathy in defeat doesn't really exist here). But again, I must reiterate that the loss was through no fault of Fiorentina's, and they were not so much beaten by the other side, as they were beaten by the referees! If the ref had pulled his head out of his (insert expletive here), and called that dude offsides in the first game, they would have tied 1-1 and then would have advanced 4-3 on aggregate with the 3-2 victory. Oh well, as Forest Gump liked to say: (insert expletive here) happens! If anything, Fiorentina can now focus on salvaging their Italian league season where they are currently 11th out of 20 teams because they have been devoting so much effort to performing well in the Champions League...
[As a corollary to this story, to celebrate Fiorentina's memory in the Champions League, i have been releasing my own inner Jovetic and Gilardino on the soccer pitch by scoring 5 goals in 3 games that we teachers played the week after Fiorentina’s loss for my first goals in Tanzania! Having played goalkeeper growing up, scoring goals is rare and though the defenses probably weren't top notch, it was still a damn good feeling! In the first game we played the form II students, and I had a beautiful one-time shot from the edge of the penalty box curl around the keeper just inside the post, and another after a 2 on 1 break away. We won 3-1. In the second game we played the form III students, and after going down 1-0, we mounted a comeback: i got the first goal by knocking home a loose ball off a corner and we went on to win 3-1. Then in the third and most dramatic three Tuesdays ago, we invited the teachers of local rival secondary school, Masukira, to Ngana for a friendly match. With students from both schools lining the sidelines, and neighborhood village bragging rights at stake, i put us ahead 1-0 after chesting down a lovely through ball, taking a step to compose myself and then slotting the ball past the helpless keeper and into the net. The students went crazy! The first half ended 3-0 Ngana, with us in firm control of the game. The second half started and Masukira got the first goal of the half which could have spelled danger and a comeback, but i made sure that didn't happen by putting away my second of the game: i was running onto a ball sent over the top of the defense, and as it bounced up i noticed that the keeper had come off his line, so i deftly popped a little header over him and into the back of the net. Ngana 4, Masukira 1 and with no hope of recovery. We added another off a beautifully struck curling upper V shot to finish the game 5-1 to many hollers of approval from the students. The only things that were missing were the squeez-its and granola bars after the game, and my mom screaming her head off!]
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Tromping Around Tanzania with Mom and Dad
Part I: The Safari
After months of planning, weekly reminders of “We can't wait for our trip!” on the phone, and the formulation of a lengthy “To Bring (for me)” list, the day finally arrived in late november to get on a bus to meet my parents in dar es salaam. All I had to do was survive the 13+ hour bus ride from kyela to dar,on thanksgiving no less, and wait an ancy night until they arrived at the airport the following morning...
Well the bus ride ended up taking upwards of 16 hours and the man next to me felt it acceptable to let his daughter sleep and squirm on my lap (disregard for personal space on public transportation is a huge pet peeve of mine—weird i know), but my friend jen who works at an international school in dar had turkey and other grubbin' leftovers and wireless internet waiting for me so that the night quickly slipped by. Before i knew it i was at julius k. nyerere international airport watching mom and dad walk through the “arrivals” gate and giving them hugs for the first time in 15 months.
It was 8:30 in the morning, and their first welcome to tanzania moment was getting in a car to rush to the insanely hectic bus station, ubungo, to catch a bus leaving at 9 for arusha in the north, getting stuck in traffic on the way, finding out our tour company only had 2 bus tickets for us, and getting on the bus literally 5 minutes before it left (luckily there was a seat for me as well). Talk about a fun way to start the trip! We then proceeded to bus 10 hours through sisal fields and past the gorgeous pare mountains and the majestic kilimanjaro (my first and perhaps only glimpse of the mountain) at sunset. Normally, after being on a bus for so many hours in consecutive days i would be pretty miserable, but i think my parents had more reason to be done moving for a while after a day of flying and half-a-world's worth of jet lag, plus i think we were just so glad to be together and catching up and seeing new things that it didn't matter too much in the end. But we sure slept well that night.
In arusha we stayed at the hostel of holy spirit parish. a former tanzanian priest of our parish in snohomish, wa put us into contact with his priest friends living in arusha, and so they graciously put us up at the church there. In the two days that we had there, fr. simon and fr. ephraim took us to almost every special event that they were a part of. This included the blessing of a new school complete with songs and dancing by the pre-school kids, a wedding reception with the usual loud music and MC and traditions like the bride and groom looking as somber as though they were at a funeral, and a party for a first communion recipient where we were made to sit in front of the other family and friends present. I understood that the priests and other tanzanians who welcomed us were merely being gracious hosts wanting to show us a slice of tanzanian life and that my parents enjoyed seeing the various traditions, but i felt somewhat uncomfortable because i didn't think we had any right being at things like the wedding and first communion reception just because we were “friends” of another guest. Just another chance for me to work through cultural differences right?
By the time monday rolled around, i was ready to get out of arusha and start our safari (and because i selfishly wanted mom and dad to myself!). Contrary to popular belief a safari is not just driving around the african wild looking at animals, but is in fact swahili for “trip or travels.” So we were going on a safari in more ways than one which my dad was surprised to learn! Our safari guide, david, who would end up being great at following his intuition to animals that i'm sure many others didn't have the chance to see or as up close as we did, picked us up and we started heading further west across the maasai steppe towards the famous national parks of the north. Our first stop was lake manyara national park. The alkaline lake, which sits just below a wide escarpment, had receded quite a bit due to the dry season which wrapped up in november, but the forests with their array of tropical trees, the valley with views of the cliffs and mountains, and of course the animals made for a truly beautiful afternoon in the park. The highlights, at least for me, might include being so close to so many elephants (my favorite), seeing a dik dik, a miniature antelope, up close, the surreal effect the lake had in making a mirage on the horizon while giraffes grazed in the foreground, seeing my first ostrich, witnessing a huge dung beetle rolling his or her ball of poo (you laugh, but those things are important for the ecosystem. Their name in swahili, sukuma mavi, translates as shit pushers—that's funny!), and watching for a little while two lionesses stalked a warthog (though nothing eventually happened, i still felt like i was in the middle of some nature show). We even randomly ran into leigh carroll, a PCV from my training class, and her parents while eating lunch, but believe it or not that would not be the only time we saw them on this trip...
After climbing the escarpment to continue west (which gave us even more incredible views of the valley as the sun set), we had a relaxing night in a lodge in the town of karatu where we got a full german meal including roast beef, red cabbage, zucchini and carrots, and mashed potatoes (i could tell i was going to enjoy the luxuries this trip afforded!) The next morning we continued to climb towards the ngorongoro conservation area which holds the famous ngorongoro crater and olduvai gorge. We didn't descend into the crater that morning but we got an incredible panorama view on the crater rim, and then continued towards the gorge through the emerald green hills and meadows that surround the crater and are home to many maasai and their herds of cows and goats. Seeing zebras, wildebeast, and ostriches grazing on the slopes of extinct volcanoes with congregations of maasai huts and their domesticated herds nearby made me feel like i had been transported back in time. Our stop at the olduvai gorge, famous for its contributions to archaeology, evolution, and early hominid studies, thanks to the work of mary and louis leakey, was really interesting to see old fossils and the progress of evolution as it has affected the human race. (That's the biology nerd in me coming out!).
But the Serengeti beckoned us further west. As we left the rockiness of the gorge behind, the serengeti plains opened up before us. Serengeti is maasai for “endless plain” and that is certainly the feeling you get when in the midst of it. The dirt road led the way further into the wilderness, but as i looked to the left and right of me beneath warm sunlight and the bluest blue sky pocked with popcorn clouds, wind rushing around me (the safari SUV had a raisable roof), i felt like we were the first people to be venturing into a raw and untouched grassland with an immensity beyond comparison. After entering the park boundaries of serengeti national park we had a short afternoon safari. Highlights include witnessing a group of cheetahs feasting on a recent kill, getting up close and personal with tons of grazing animals (giraffes, antelope such as impala, reed buck, hartebeast and others, zebra, wildbeast), coming across a pride of lions in the darkness on our way to our lodging, and just being in the wild and soaking up the beauty.
Our lodging in the serengeti was a tented safari lodge which was basically large mobile, yet sturdy tents attached to permanent bathrooms and a generator for power at certain hours. With herds of zebra, impala, and topi (another type of antelope) within view from the back porch, serene calm and quiet, chilly nights, and a full moon to brighten the night sky, it made for a rustic and relaxing setting. Our second day in the serengeti was a full day safari with plenty of exploring and traversing of the park's many, though unoffensive, single track dirt roads in order to see the wildlife and various habitats. From the open savannah grassland to rock formations known as kopjes to watering holes and small creeks and rivers lined with acacia trees to more dense bush forests, the types and sheer numbers of the landscapes and wildlife were staggering. Highlights include two adolescent brother lions lazing it up, one sprawled on the branch of a tree known as a sausage tree (due to the shape of the pods it makes), more cheetah sitings including one that lazily crossed the road just a few yards from the car, watching and trying to will the hunt of a male leopard for reed buck (he eventually gave up and rested in a tree), a huge lioness munching on a wildebeast kill while a little ways away vultures sat on the branches of a dead but upright tree waiting for their turn, and tempting a giant male lion with a human meal by opening the car door and stepping outside for a second (thanks dad! Glad he didn't get you!).
The next day we had another half day safari where we we had a couple really fortunate sitings. First, we passed an acacia tree perhaps 20 yards from the road with three lions sleeping and resting. But david had a feeling that there was something further on down the road. Eventually we saw a car up ahead next to a downed tree, so figured they were looking at something, but had yet to spot whatever it was. But as we rounded the corner, we were blessed and in awe to see a female leopard sprawled on the tree trunk, no more than like 5 yards from the car, no doubt enjoying the cool weather of that morning. That in and of itself would have been a miraculous siting, but then the mama's cub popped out of the tall grass it had been hiding in and joined his mom for a grooming session while he growled at the human intruders who were arriving more and more. For maybe 5 minutes we got this intimate meeting with the leopards (the rarest of safari predators in the serengeti), before the mom decided it was time to move on. We left thinking nothing could top that for the rest of the trip! Later, though they were no leopards, it was fun to see a group of wildebeast come down to a watering hole right next to the road and satisfy their thirst. In the afternoon after returning from the park, my dad and i had a nature walk in the immediate surroundings of the tent. It was nothing special but now i can identify the droppings of topi, impala, wildebeast, zebra, dik dik, and hyena (whose crap is white because it crunches up and eats so many bones)!
On our way out of the serengeti heading back east, we had a morning safari where we got a good idea of the scope of the annual wildebeast migration—around a million animals head from the serengeti north in search of greener grass every june—as we watched thousands of them grazing on their way back from the maasai mara in kenya, watched a huge herd of elephants refresh themselves in a creek, saw a bunch of banded mongoose (which reminded me of meerkats), and climbed up a small rise which gave us a beautiful view of hundreds of zebra and wildbeast and a herd of elephants down in the valley (the only thing missing was the T. rex to pop out to eat one of the zebra!). Next stop: the ngorongoro crater which on its 100 sq. km floor holds over 20 thousand animals.
The ngorongoro crater was, to say the least, breathtaking. I thought it was incredible from the top looking in when we first passed it, but as we descended into the crater and drove around the crater floor with puffy white clouds threatening rain above the greenest green grass, and amongst wildebeast, zebra, hyenas and many others, i was overwhelmed by the sheer serenity (yet wildness) and beauty of the place. Whether it was watching an enormous flock of flamingos cool themselves in one of the crater's small lakes, or seeing the largest of the antelope family, the eland, for the first time, or waiting patiently for a lion couple to mate (pretty over-rated if you ask me), or watching in grotesque amazement as a hyena, jackal, and several vultures tore apart a buffalo carcass, or seeing a family of hyenas nervously poke their heads from their den (did you know that the hyena doesn't differentiate into sexes until adolescence?), or viewing one of the world's rarest animals, the black rhinoceros (in this case a huge mama rhino), as she casually crossed the road (in between a throng of safari vehicles) just a few yards from our car, or simply admiring a lone elephant saunter across the open plain in search of better pastures while a full moon set over the crater rim, ngorongoro crater was Nature at its finest and most pure.
Part II: The Village
Having seen all the wildlife and wilderness that i think one can see in 6 days, and with a certain sadness at departing one of the most naturally beautiful places i have ever been, we headed back to arusha for a quick stopover before the much anticipated flight south to mbeya region. The itinerary changed a bit, but after flying first to dar es salaam from kilimanjaro international airport in a fast, medium sized prop jet (operated by tanzania's precision air), we got ready to board a 6 seater cessna (operated by tiny safari air link which will fly you pretty much anywhere in tanzania) for the 3 and a half hour flight to tiny mbeya town regional airport. It was my mom's and my first time on a plane that small, and it definitely rattled my nerves a bit feeling the air currents grab ahold of the plane like they did, but it was really cool to be dodging huge cumulus clouds and to get great views of the country and crops below that i only saw previously zoom by in crowded, break-neck-speeding bus. Flying into mbeya, we circled over downtown looking down on the streets that i recognized from my many walks there, before we landed on the gravel runway of the airport...
we had 3 nights and 2 full days at my place here at ngana. After arriving at the airport, we rushed to the bus stand to hop on a mini-bus, aka a coaster, which given the amount of seats should hold about 25 people but regularly has 40+ crammed into it. Obviously, i couldn't let mom and dad leave before experiencing a true tanzanian bus ride! But they did get the very front two seats next to the driver, which are the most “spacious” seats on a coaster and has great views through the large windshield. So we headed down the lush and beautiful poroto mountains, past nearby tukuyu and into one of the many sections of the great rift valley which on its outskirts holds the land surrounding ngana.
After a few hours sitting on the coaster, i figured mom and dad would enjoy the walk from my bus stop to my house, but i failed to anticipate the effect the heat would have on them or that the indiana jones bridge with its missing slats every few yards 30 feet above the kiwira river is pretty scary the first time you cross it, so after nearly killing my parents (sorry mom and dad!) we arrived at my place and attempted to cool down and relax. That first night i cooked them stir-fried vegetables and rice, and though they would probably say i am now a gourmet chef, the highlight of the night was a pretty strong earthquake, which, centered in northern malawi did a decent job of shaking the house. I'm not sure, and i'm no seismologist, but i would say maybe a low 5 on the richter scale?
The next morning we took our time getting going in the morning while i rustled up some pancakes with fresh tukuyu area pineapple on the side. The morning also saw mom and dad wash some dirty clothes, tanzanian style, by hand from a bucket. They learned pretty quick, though I don't think wazungu will ever wash clothes that way as well as the locals (which is why i hire a couple students to wash mine)! That afternoon my dad and i trekked out towards the infamous pride rock, alias lugera mountain (small rises in the landscape get called mountains apparently). Though we didn't scale the rock completely and i underestimated how much water we would need (sorry pop!), i think dad got a good idea of the surrounding landscape and got some good views of the valley, mountains, and malawi in the distance.
That evening, with mom's birthday a little more than a week away, i wanted to have a party for her. So i invited my neighbors the manjuas—the family that i eat dinner with every sunday—for a little celebration. I cooked spaghetti with a fresh alfredo sauce, and local greens (sort of like spinach) with other veggies. Buonissimo! The only thing that was missing was the garlic bread and the red wine! For dessert i baked mom's famous chocolate cake which she bakes for everyone's birthday and she exclaimed that not even she could do it better. I'm telling you, i'm learning how to cook out here! And mother earth celebrated mom by doing a little dance in the form of another minorly large earthquake while we were eating. The frequency of earthquakes while my parents were here was starting to get creepy! But....
...the next morning i was shook out of bed by the third trembler in as many (calendar) days! only this time in my delirium i wasn't sure how big this one was, and my first thought was to get the hell out of the house while yelling “earthquake, earthquake!” i think my parents got a kick out of that one. At any rate, after experiencing more earthquakes in less than 48 hours, than i had previously in my entire life, i was finished with them, and thankfully that would be the last one (i later found out that the earthquakes which were all centered in north malawi, actually killed a few people there).
It being a tuesday, which is market day in the nearby village of jua kali, one part of the overall area of kasumulu, i wanted to take them on a walk through the country side to the market. I think i've mentioned before, but ngana isn't a village per say; it's more of a spattering of simple homes tucked in between and amongst maize and cassava crops and small forests of cashew, mango, and palm oil trees. Anyway, it was fun to show them “major” landscapes like the local catholic church, where i go to watch soccer games occasionally, various neighbors' houses, and of course the market. I don't think i had ever been to the market that early in the morning, so it was also fun to see it so bustling and busy. Because school was closed for the year, we were followed by a throng of kids, who loved hearing mom and dad greet them in the local language, Nyakyusa, with “Ugonile!”
after returning home and after nearly killing them again with the heat (sorry mom and dad!), we got a little tour of ngana secondary school from my neighbor and got ready to go to the border town for a late lunch with other teachers and staff of the school. The white stone hotel (hotels here are a blanket term for guest houses, bars, or restaurants—this one happens to be all) which is where i spent my first night after training before moving to the school, graciously hosted us. There were about 10 of us total, and though the headmaster, mr. Kashililika, wasn't able to make it, the second master, mr. Chibona, and others entertained my parents by conversing about and comparing life and work in tanzania and the united states, while we enjoyed a dinner of kuku and chipsi (aka chicken and french fries). And my parents donated a few books to the school including a book with photos of washington state, which made me pretty nostalgic. It was a really nice way to wrap up the quick, yet sufficient, visit into my life here in africa.
Part III: The Island
the next morning we got in a taxi (one coaster was enough for my folks!) which came to my door and drove back to mbeya. It was the most comfortable, coolest (due to the glorious AC), and fastest trip to mbeya i've ever been on. (Any time you wanna come back so i can taxi to mbeya, you're welcome mom and dad!). We had arranged with the airline, safari airlink (which was super nice and flexible), to fly to zanzibar a day early so that we could get a chance to see the famous stone town, which aside from the nice beaches, is what you go to zanzibar for (our beach hotel, being on the north end of the island, would have made it difficult to see it).
After a nice second flight in the cessna with more great views including of the reefs surrounding the island (zanzibar is an archipelago with two main islands—unguja and pemba. Unguja is the more popular of the 2 and where we were), we headed from the airport to a hotel in stone town with a view of fishing boats coming to shore with the days catch. As we were getting settled, my dad, looking out the window, said. “hey andrew isn't that your friend?” wondering which friend i had on zanzibar and whom dad knew, i looked out the window and freakishly, there was leigh carroll, whom i had seen in lake manyara NP, with her parents. AND, turns out they were also in our hotel staying in the room next to us. Talk about a small world!
That evening mom, dad, and i walked to the nearby africa house hotel, where we enjoyed an amazing sunset over the indian ocean (and i guess way in the distance, mainland africa) while sipping on ice cold beers. Luckily, we got there early to get front row seats for the show, because the place later filled up as sunset approached. For dinner, we went to the forodhani gardens, a nice water-side park, with the carrolls. The gardens, with their gazebos and small square, are famous for the vendors who fill it every day hoping to fulfill the hungry desires of tourists. From grilled seafood, to fresh fruit, to sugar cane juice, the gardens offered some delicious looking sustenance. The only challenge is surviving the aggressive and not-altogether-honest vendors and cooks trying to get your business. But we did and really enjoyed relaxing and chatting and munching on some good fish with other americans. (random info: if you are familiar with notre dame basketball, leigh is the cousin of former ND sharp shooter and current NBA dallas maverick matt carroll—i think that's pretty cool!). after dinner, we went to a very local bar—leigh and i wanted to find a place that didn't charge double the price of a beer—which was super loud and had people openly smoking weed (oops! Sorry mom and dad!). Guess the cheap beer wasn't that worth it in the end!
The next day was for strolling and exploring stone town. Highlights include seeing the famous arabic doors of stone town (whose huge spikes were originally for keeping out the island's resident elephant population?) and in general enjoying the awesome arabic architecture, visiting the anglican cathedral which now sits over a former slave trading market, buying some local art, getting lost on numerous occasions, the old arab fort and house of wonders, stumbling upon a vibrant market, and running into—guess who?—the carrolls again at a coffee house that we had tried for an hour to find. Around every corner, stone town had something new and exciting or some kind local willing to help you find your way. Though its confusing maze of streets will probably find you lost as well, i loved just straying and going missing amongst the ancient buildings and cobblestone streets. It almost felt like i was back in italy walking the streets of some quaint tuscan hill town...
that afternoon we rode north to the small resort town of nungwi, where we would stay for the next 4 nights. From the pool, to the hammocks, to the buffets (who doesn't love a buffet?), to the incredibly gorgeous turquoise water and white sand, i knew this stay was going to be nice! The only problem that would present itself was that power from the mainland to zanzibar had been cut that day due to some sort of repairs, so when we didn't have fans at night, it was pretty hot and hard to sleep. But nothing i'm not used to at site, right?
The first day it rained on us, but allowed us to relax and enjoy a book, magazine, or writing a postcard or two. The second day the sun came out, and in addition to plenty more relaxing and bumming around, we enjoyed swimming in the warm indian ocean water. And the third day, we went for a half day snorkeling trip around the northen point of the island past more uber nice resorts. We saw all sorts of beautiful and exotic fish (think many of the characters from finding nemo), coral, and other marine wildlife. But dad and i didn't apply enough sunscreen and ended up as red as lobsters ourselves (and in a lot of pain that night!). On the boat ride back to our place, i was simply mesmerized by the blue that emanated from the water. Truly, like nothing i'd ever seen before, and it beckoned me to stay on zanzibar a little longer...
but that was our last evening there, so after watching the sunset from the hotel's lookout, and enjoying a beer over some english premier league soccer, we left the next morning for the zanzibar airport, and the quick flight to dar es salaam. After we checked into the incredibly nice harbor view suites and rested for a bit, we met up with my friend jen, who had been keeping a bag full of good stuff that mom and dad had diligently packed over to me. We switched that stuff for things i was sending home and our last meal together along with jen was at a really great italian place. The prosciutto e funghi pizza and red wine (and real ice water!) i had were phenomenal and it was a great way to wrap up the trip.
Early the next morning, i sadly watched mom and dad get in a taxi and head to the airport. The trip went too quickly, but it was so good and i was beyond thankful to spend quality time with them, show them a slice (or two or three) of my life here, and see and do all that we did. Plus i celebrated their visit properly by enjoying the complimentary breakfast that came with our room at the suites. Since they left so early and didn't get any food, i ate for the 3 of us! I mean after village life, how could you pass on a FULL english breakfast (including BACON), cereal with COLD milk, fresh fruit including APPLES, cold cuts and CHEESE, yogurt, fresh-squeezed ORANGE JUICE, and WHEAT toast with any spreadable condiment you can imagine? (i'm telling you this place was nice!) I was disgustingly full afterwards, but can you blame me?
Here are the links to my parents pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/Engeljohn55/Tanzania1?authkey=Gv1sRgCJ7Puq-8uqKLuQE&feat=directlink
http://picasaweb.google.com/Engeljohn55/Tanzania2?authkey=Gv1sRgCMiuvpi23ouviAE&feat=directlink
http://picasaweb.google.com/Engeljohn55/Tanzania3Teachers?feat=directlink
http://picasaweb.google.com/Engeljohn55/NgorongoraPanorama?feat=directlink
After months of planning, weekly reminders of “We can't wait for our trip!” on the phone, and the formulation of a lengthy “To Bring (for me)” list, the day finally arrived in late november to get on a bus to meet my parents in dar es salaam. All I had to do was survive the 13+ hour bus ride from kyela to dar,on thanksgiving no less, and wait an ancy night until they arrived at the airport the following morning...
Well the bus ride ended up taking upwards of 16 hours and the man next to me felt it acceptable to let his daughter sleep and squirm on my lap (disregard for personal space on public transportation is a huge pet peeve of mine—weird i know), but my friend jen who works at an international school in dar had turkey and other grubbin' leftovers and wireless internet waiting for me so that the night quickly slipped by. Before i knew it i was at julius k. nyerere international airport watching mom and dad walk through the “arrivals” gate and giving them hugs for the first time in 15 months.
It was 8:30 in the morning, and their first welcome to tanzania moment was getting in a car to rush to the insanely hectic bus station, ubungo, to catch a bus leaving at 9 for arusha in the north, getting stuck in traffic on the way, finding out our tour company only had 2 bus tickets for us, and getting on the bus literally 5 minutes before it left (luckily there was a seat for me as well). Talk about a fun way to start the trip! We then proceeded to bus 10 hours through sisal fields and past the gorgeous pare mountains and the majestic kilimanjaro (my first and perhaps only glimpse of the mountain) at sunset. Normally, after being on a bus for so many hours in consecutive days i would be pretty miserable, but i think my parents had more reason to be done moving for a while after a day of flying and half-a-world's worth of jet lag, plus i think we were just so glad to be together and catching up and seeing new things that it didn't matter too much in the end. But we sure slept well that night.
In arusha we stayed at the hostel of holy spirit parish. a former tanzanian priest of our parish in snohomish, wa put us into contact with his priest friends living in arusha, and so they graciously put us up at the church there. In the two days that we had there, fr. simon and fr. ephraim took us to almost every special event that they were a part of. This included the blessing of a new school complete with songs and dancing by the pre-school kids, a wedding reception with the usual loud music and MC and traditions like the bride and groom looking as somber as though they were at a funeral, and a party for a first communion recipient where we were made to sit in front of the other family and friends present. I understood that the priests and other tanzanians who welcomed us were merely being gracious hosts wanting to show us a slice of tanzanian life and that my parents enjoyed seeing the various traditions, but i felt somewhat uncomfortable because i didn't think we had any right being at things like the wedding and first communion reception just because we were “friends” of another guest. Just another chance for me to work through cultural differences right?
By the time monday rolled around, i was ready to get out of arusha and start our safari (and because i selfishly wanted mom and dad to myself!). Contrary to popular belief a safari is not just driving around the african wild looking at animals, but is in fact swahili for “trip or travels.” So we were going on a safari in more ways than one which my dad was surprised to learn! Our safari guide, david, who would end up being great at following his intuition to animals that i'm sure many others didn't have the chance to see or as up close as we did, picked us up and we started heading further west across the maasai steppe towards the famous national parks of the north. Our first stop was lake manyara national park. The alkaline lake, which sits just below a wide escarpment, had receded quite a bit due to the dry season which wrapped up in november, but the forests with their array of tropical trees, the valley with views of the cliffs and mountains, and of course the animals made for a truly beautiful afternoon in the park. The highlights, at least for me, might include being so close to so many elephants (my favorite), seeing a dik dik, a miniature antelope, up close, the surreal effect the lake had in making a mirage on the horizon while giraffes grazed in the foreground, seeing my first ostrich, witnessing a huge dung beetle rolling his or her ball of poo (you laugh, but those things are important for the ecosystem. Their name in swahili, sukuma mavi, translates as shit pushers—that's funny!), and watching for a little while two lionesses stalked a warthog (though nothing eventually happened, i still felt like i was in the middle of some nature show). We even randomly ran into leigh carroll, a PCV from my training class, and her parents while eating lunch, but believe it or not that would not be the only time we saw them on this trip...
After climbing the escarpment to continue west (which gave us even more incredible views of the valley as the sun set), we had a relaxing night in a lodge in the town of karatu where we got a full german meal including roast beef, red cabbage, zucchini and carrots, and mashed potatoes (i could tell i was going to enjoy the luxuries this trip afforded!) The next morning we continued to climb towards the ngorongoro conservation area which holds the famous ngorongoro crater and olduvai gorge. We didn't descend into the crater that morning but we got an incredible panorama view on the crater rim, and then continued towards the gorge through the emerald green hills and meadows that surround the crater and are home to many maasai and their herds of cows and goats. Seeing zebras, wildebeast, and ostriches grazing on the slopes of extinct volcanoes with congregations of maasai huts and their domesticated herds nearby made me feel like i had been transported back in time. Our stop at the olduvai gorge, famous for its contributions to archaeology, evolution, and early hominid studies, thanks to the work of mary and louis leakey, was really interesting to see old fossils and the progress of evolution as it has affected the human race. (That's the biology nerd in me coming out!).
But the Serengeti beckoned us further west. As we left the rockiness of the gorge behind, the serengeti plains opened up before us. Serengeti is maasai for “endless plain” and that is certainly the feeling you get when in the midst of it. The dirt road led the way further into the wilderness, but as i looked to the left and right of me beneath warm sunlight and the bluest blue sky pocked with popcorn clouds, wind rushing around me (the safari SUV had a raisable roof), i felt like we were the first people to be venturing into a raw and untouched grassland with an immensity beyond comparison. After entering the park boundaries of serengeti national park we had a short afternoon safari. Highlights include witnessing a group of cheetahs feasting on a recent kill, getting up close and personal with tons of grazing animals (giraffes, antelope such as impala, reed buck, hartebeast and others, zebra, wildbeast), coming across a pride of lions in the darkness on our way to our lodging, and just being in the wild and soaking up the beauty.
Our lodging in the serengeti was a tented safari lodge which was basically large mobile, yet sturdy tents attached to permanent bathrooms and a generator for power at certain hours. With herds of zebra, impala, and topi (another type of antelope) within view from the back porch, serene calm and quiet, chilly nights, and a full moon to brighten the night sky, it made for a rustic and relaxing setting. Our second day in the serengeti was a full day safari with plenty of exploring and traversing of the park's many, though unoffensive, single track dirt roads in order to see the wildlife and various habitats. From the open savannah grassland to rock formations known as kopjes to watering holes and small creeks and rivers lined with acacia trees to more dense bush forests, the types and sheer numbers of the landscapes and wildlife were staggering. Highlights include two adolescent brother lions lazing it up, one sprawled on the branch of a tree known as a sausage tree (due to the shape of the pods it makes), more cheetah sitings including one that lazily crossed the road just a few yards from the car, watching and trying to will the hunt of a male leopard for reed buck (he eventually gave up and rested in a tree), a huge lioness munching on a wildebeast kill while a little ways away vultures sat on the branches of a dead but upright tree waiting for their turn, and tempting a giant male lion with a human meal by opening the car door and stepping outside for a second (thanks dad! Glad he didn't get you!).
The next day we had another half day safari where we we had a couple really fortunate sitings. First, we passed an acacia tree perhaps 20 yards from the road with three lions sleeping and resting. But david had a feeling that there was something further on down the road. Eventually we saw a car up ahead next to a downed tree, so figured they were looking at something, but had yet to spot whatever it was. But as we rounded the corner, we were blessed and in awe to see a female leopard sprawled on the tree trunk, no more than like 5 yards from the car, no doubt enjoying the cool weather of that morning. That in and of itself would have been a miraculous siting, but then the mama's cub popped out of the tall grass it had been hiding in and joined his mom for a grooming session while he growled at the human intruders who were arriving more and more. For maybe 5 minutes we got this intimate meeting with the leopards (the rarest of safari predators in the serengeti), before the mom decided it was time to move on. We left thinking nothing could top that for the rest of the trip! Later, though they were no leopards, it was fun to see a group of wildebeast come down to a watering hole right next to the road and satisfy their thirst. In the afternoon after returning from the park, my dad and i had a nature walk in the immediate surroundings of the tent. It was nothing special but now i can identify the droppings of topi, impala, wildebeast, zebra, dik dik, and hyena (whose crap is white because it crunches up and eats so many bones)!
On our way out of the serengeti heading back east, we had a morning safari where we got a good idea of the scope of the annual wildebeast migration—around a million animals head from the serengeti north in search of greener grass every june—as we watched thousands of them grazing on their way back from the maasai mara in kenya, watched a huge herd of elephants refresh themselves in a creek, saw a bunch of banded mongoose (which reminded me of meerkats), and climbed up a small rise which gave us a beautiful view of hundreds of zebra and wildbeast and a herd of elephants down in the valley (the only thing missing was the T. rex to pop out to eat one of the zebra!). Next stop: the ngorongoro crater which on its 100 sq. km floor holds over 20 thousand animals.
The ngorongoro crater was, to say the least, breathtaking. I thought it was incredible from the top looking in when we first passed it, but as we descended into the crater and drove around the crater floor with puffy white clouds threatening rain above the greenest green grass, and amongst wildebeast, zebra, hyenas and many others, i was overwhelmed by the sheer serenity (yet wildness) and beauty of the place. Whether it was watching an enormous flock of flamingos cool themselves in one of the crater's small lakes, or seeing the largest of the antelope family, the eland, for the first time, or waiting patiently for a lion couple to mate (pretty over-rated if you ask me), or watching in grotesque amazement as a hyena, jackal, and several vultures tore apart a buffalo carcass, or seeing a family of hyenas nervously poke their heads from their den (did you know that the hyena doesn't differentiate into sexes until adolescence?), or viewing one of the world's rarest animals, the black rhinoceros (in this case a huge mama rhino), as she casually crossed the road (in between a throng of safari vehicles) just a few yards from our car, or simply admiring a lone elephant saunter across the open plain in search of better pastures while a full moon set over the crater rim, ngorongoro crater was Nature at its finest and most pure.
Part II: The Village
Having seen all the wildlife and wilderness that i think one can see in 6 days, and with a certain sadness at departing one of the most naturally beautiful places i have ever been, we headed back to arusha for a quick stopover before the much anticipated flight south to mbeya region. The itinerary changed a bit, but after flying first to dar es salaam from kilimanjaro international airport in a fast, medium sized prop jet (operated by tanzania's precision air), we got ready to board a 6 seater cessna (operated by tiny safari air link which will fly you pretty much anywhere in tanzania) for the 3 and a half hour flight to tiny mbeya town regional airport. It was my mom's and my first time on a plane that small, and it definitely rattled my nerves a bit feeling the air currents grab ahold of the plane like they did, but it was really cool to be dodging huge cumulus clouds and to get great views of the country and crops below that i only saw previously zoom by in crowded, break-neck-speeding bus. Flying into mbeya, we circled over downtown looking down on the streets that i recognized from my many walks there, before we landed on the gravel runway of the airport...
we had 3 nights and 2 full days at my place here at ngana. After arriving at the airport, we rushed to the bus stand to hop on a mini-bus, aka a coaster, which given the amount of seats should hold about 25 people but regularly has 40+ crammed into it. Obviously, i couldn't let mom and dad leave before experiencing a true tanzanian bus ride! But they did get the very front two seats next to the driver, which are the most “spacious” seats on a coaster and has great views through the large windshield. So we headed down the lush and beautiful poroto mountains, past nearby tukuyu and into one of the many sections of the great rift valley which on its outskirts holds the land surrounding ngana.
After a few hours sitting on the coaster, i figured mom and dad would enjoy the walk from my bus stop to my house, but i failed to anticipate the effect the heat would have on them or that the indiana jones bridge with its missing slats every few yards 30 feet above the kiwira river is pretty scary the first time you cross it, so after nearly killing my parents (sorry mom and dad!) we arrived at my place and attempted to cool down and relax. That first night i cooked them stir-fried vegetables and rice, and though they would probably say i am now a gourmet chef, the highlight of the night was a pretty strong earthquake, which, centered in northern malawi did a decent job of shaking the house. I'm not sure, and i'm no seismologist, but i would say maybe a low 5 on the richter scale?
The next morning we took our time getting going in the morning while i rustled up some pancakes with fresh tukuyu area pineapple on the side. The morning also saw mom and dad wash some dirty clothes, tanzanian style, by hand from a bucket. They learned pretty quick, though I don't think wazungu will ever wash clothes that way as well as the locals (which is why i hire a couple students to wash mine)! That afternoon my dad and i trekked out towards the infamous pride rock, alias lugera mountain (small rises in the landscape get called mountains apparently). Though we didn't scale the rock completely and i underestimated how much water we would need (sorry pop!), i think dad got a good idea of the surrounding landscape and got some good views of the valley, mountains, and malawi in the distance.
That evening, with mom's birthday a little more than a week away, i wanted to have a party for her. So i invited my neighbors the manjuas—the family that i eat dinner with every sunday—for a little celebration. I cooked spaghetti with a fresh alfredo sauce, and local greens (sort of like spinach) with other veggies. Buonissimo! The only thing that was missing was the garlic bread and the red wine! For dessert i baked mom's famous chocolate cake which she bakes for everyone's birthday and she exclaimed that not even she could do it better. I'm telling you, i'm learning how to cook out here! And mother earth celebrated mom by doing a little dance in the form of another minorly large earthquake while we were eating. The frequency of earthquakes while my parents were here was starting to get creepy! But....
...the next morning i was shook out of bed by the third trembler in as many (calendar) days! only this time in my delirium i wasn't sure how big this one was, and my first thought was to get the hell out of the house while yelling “earthquake, earthquake!” i think my parents got a kick out of that one. At any rate, after experiencing more earthquakes in less than 48 hours, than i had previously in my entire life, i was finished with them, and thankfully that would be the last one (i later found out that the earthquakes which were all centered in north malawi, actually killed a few people there).
It being a tuesday, which is market day in the nearby village of jua kali, one part of the overall area of kasumulu, i wanted to take them on a walk through the country side to the market. I think i've mentioned before, but ngana isn't a village per say; it's more of a spattering of simple homes tucked in between and amongst maize and cassava crops and small forests of cashew, mango, and palm oil trees. Anyway, it was fun to show them “major” landscapes like the local catholic church, where i go to watch soccer games occasionally, various neighbors' houses, and of course the market. I don't think i had ever been to the market that early in the morning, so it was also fun to see it so bustling and busy. Because school was closed for the year, we were followed by a throng of kids, who loved hearing mom and dad greet them in the local language, Nyakyusa, with “Ugonile!”
after returning home and after nearly killing them again with the heat (sorry mom and dad!), we got a little tour of ngana secondary school from my neighbor and got ready to go to the border town for a late lunch with other teachers and staff of the school. The white stone hotel (hotels here are a blanket term for guest houses, bars, or restaurants—this one happens to be all) which is where i spent my first night after training before moving to the school, graciously hosted us. There were about 10 of us total, and though the headmaster, mr. Kashililika, wasn't able to make it, the second master, mr. Chibona, and others entertained my parents by conversing about and comparing life and work in tanzania and the united states, while we enjoyed a dinner of kuku and chipsi (aka chicken and french fries). And my parents donated a few books to the school including a book with photos of washington state, which made me pretty nostalgic. It was a really nice way to wrap up the quick, yet sufficient, visit into my life here in africa.
Part III: The Island
the next morning we got in a taxi (one coaster was enough for my folks!) which came to my door and drove back to mbeya. It was the most comfortable, coolest (due to the glorious AC), and fastest trip to mbeya i've ever been on. (Any time you wanna come back so i can taxi to mbeya, you're welcome mom and dad!). We had arranged with the airline, safari airlink (which was super nice and flexible), to fly to zanzibar a day early so that we could get a chance to see the famous stone town, which aside from the nice beaches, is what you go to zanzibar for (our beach hotel, being on the north end of the island, would have made it difficult to see it).
After a nice second flight in the cessna with more great views including of the reefs surrounding the island (zanzibar is an archipelago with two main islands—unguja and pemba. Unguja is the more popular of the 2 and where we were), we headed from the airport to a hotel in stone town with a view of fishing boats coming to shore with the days catch. As we were getting settled, my dad, looking out the window, said. “hey andrew isn't that your friend?” wondering which friend i had on zanzibar and whom dad knew, i looked out the window and freakishly, there was leigh carroll, whom i had seen in lake manyara NP, with her parents. AND, turns out they were also in our hotel staying in the room next to us. Talk about a small world!
That evening mom, dad, and i walked to the nearby africa house hotel, where we enjoyed an amazing sunset over the indian ocean (and i guess way in the distance, mainland africa) while sipping on ice cold beers. Luckily, we got there early to get front row seats for the show, because the place later filled up as sunset approached. For dinner, we went to the forodhani gardens, a nice water-side park, with the carrolls. The gardens, with their gazebos and small square, are famous for the vendors who fill it every day hoping to fulfill the hungry desires of tourists. From grilled seafood, to fresh fruit, to sugar cane juice, the gardens offered some delicious looking sustenance. The only challenge is surviving the aggressive and not-altogether-honest vendors and cooks trying to get your business. But we did and really enjoyed relaxing and chatting and munching on some good fish with other americans. (random info: if you are familiar with notre dame basketball, leigh is the cousin of former ND sharp shooter and current NBA dallas maverick matt carroll—i think that's pretty cool!). after dinner, we went to a very local bar—leigh and i wanted to find a place that didn't charge double the price of a beer—which was super loud and had people openly smoking weed (oops! Sorry mom and dad!). Guess the cheap beer wasn't that worth it in the end!
The next day was for strolling and exploring stone town. Highlights include seeing the famous arabic doors of stone town (whose huge spikes were originally for keeping out the island's resident elephant population?) and in general enjoying the awesome arabic architecture, visiting the anglican cathedral which now sits over a former slave trading market, buying some local art, getting lost on numerous occasions, the old arab fort and house of wonders, stumbling upon a vibrant market, and running into—guess who?—the carrolls again at a coffee house that we had tried for an hour to find. Around every corner, stone town had something new and exciting or some kind local willing to help you find your way. Though its confusing maze of streets will probably find you lost as well, i loved just straying and going missing amongst the ancient buildings and cobblestone streets. It almost felt like i was back in italy walking the streets of some quaint tuscan hill town...
that afternoon we rode north to the small resort town of nungwi, where we would stay for the next 4 nights. From the pool, to the hammocks, to the buffets (who doesn't love a buffet?), to the incredibly gorgeous turquoise water and white sand, i knew this stay was going to be nice! The only problem that would present itself was that power from the mainland to zanzibar had been cut that day due to some sort of repairs, so when we didn't have fans at night, it was pretty hot and hard to sleep. But nothing i'm not used to at site, right?
The first day it rained on us, but allowed us to relax and enjoy a book, magazine, or writing a postcard or two. The second day the sun came out, and in addition to plenty more relaxing and bumming around, we enjoyed swimming in the warm indian ocean water. And the third day, we went for a half day snorkeling trip around the northen point of the island past more uber nice resorts. We saw all sorts of beautiful and exotic fish (think many of the characters from finding nemo), coral, and other marine wildlife. But dad and i didn't apply enough sunscreen and ended up as red as lobsters ourselves (and in a lot of pain that night!). On the boat ride back to our place, i was simply mesmerized by the blue that emanated from the water. Truly, like nothing i'd ever seen before, and it beckoned me to stay on zanzibar a little longer...
but that was our last evening there, so after watching the sunset from the hotel's lookout, and enjoying a beer over some english premier league soccer, we left the next morning for the zanzibar airport, and the quick flight to dar es salaam. After we checked into the incredibly nice harbor view suites and rested for a bit, we met up with my friend jen, who had been keeping a bag full of good stuff that mom and dad had diligently packed over to me. We switched that stuff for things i was sending home and our last meal together along with jen was at a really great italian place. The prosciutto e funghi pizza and red wine (and real ice water!) i had were phenomenal and it was a great way to wrap up the trip.
Early the next morning, i sadly watched mom and dad get in a taxi and head to the airport. The trip went too quickly, but it was so good and i was beyond thankful to spend quality time with them, show them a slice (or two or three) of my life here, and see and do all that we did. Plus i celebrated their visit properly by enjoying the complimentary breakfast that came with our room at the suites. Since they left so early and didn't get any food, i ate for the 3 of us! I mean after village life, how could you pass on a FULL english breakfast (including BACON), cereal with COLD milk, fresh fruit including APPLES, cold cuts and CHEESE, yogurt, fresh-squeezed ORANGE JUICE, and WHEAT toast with any spreadable condiment you can imagine? (i'm telling you this place was nice!) I was disgustingly full afterwards, but can you blame me?
Here are the links to my parents pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/Engeljohn55/Tanzania1?authkey=Gv1sRgCJ7Puq-8uqKLuQE&feat=directlink
http://picasaweb.google.com/Engeljohn55/Tanzania2?authkey=Gv1sRgCMiuvpi23ouviAE&feat=directlink
http://picasaweb.google.com/Engeljohn55/Tanzania3Teachers?feat=directlink
http://picasaweb.google.com/Engeljohn55/NgorongoraPanorama?feat=directlink
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard Place
Last week the teachers of Ngana had a surprise visit from a couple employees of the Ministry of Education in Kyela District. They were doing an evaluation of sorts of Ngana and its procedures. They had separate meetings with both the students and teachers and the theme of our meeting was techniques we teachers are using in the classroom. They wanted to stress that we should be teaching our material as it applies to students' lives and not just so they learn the required information, that we should be utilizing other other techniques, that if we are just lecturing to students, we are not good teachers.
Well then, I guess I am not a good teacher. While I do my best to make the students' biology pertinent to their every-day lives, and attempt to enhance their learning by using other teaching techniques, most times I enter that classroom, I am prepared to lecture at the kids. Why? It's partly due to my lack of creativity and experience as a teacher, but the main reason is because the same Ministry which wants me to do lab work, group projects, and have guest speakers also mandates that we complete its syllabus of topics which can show up on the students' national exams. And these syllabi are so chalk full of information, most of which are inane details of biology that only overwhelm my students, that getting through it all is an awfully daunting task.
So while I appreciate the Ministry's message, it also creates a lot of angst. Do I take more time teaching certain topics and using other techniques to enhance student learning at the expense of other topics and potentially the expense of students' national exams scores—which determine their futures—because I didn't cover certain test topics? Or do I limit myself to lecturing in order to finish everything at the expense of the students' comprehension? Like I said, I've opted to lecture.
The matter of the national exams also creates issues. Because so much emphasis is placed on these tests, ie, if they fail they don't have much hope of continuing their education, the students have a one-track mind, wanting only to learn how to answer exam questions. It's almost as if they are robots programmed to take in the info I give them, and then spit it out again on the exams, with little to no thought as to what it is they are actually learning. I've tried to stress independent thinking, processing, and analysis—what is happening here? How? Why and why is it important to me?—and that if they can do that they should be able to answer any question. But after almost a year, I don't think that is doing much good or being understood, as I still get students who come to me and literally ask me to tell them how to answer a past exam question, regardless of the fact that I have recently taught them that material. It's easy to get frustrated with them, but that's not fair. I mean, the headmaster has told them that when studying for any exam, they should study past exams and not their notes. How the hell can they answer an exam question if they don't understand their notes first? So do I continue to stress independent thinking and doing things my way? Or do I essentially teach them to these tests—something I'm fundamentally against—if that helps them do better on the tests but doesn't increase their understanding or analysis?
Another problem I'm facing is a severely skewed idea of what is vital secondary level biological information and the order in which it is presented. For example, Form III students (who are in their 10th year of education so roughly the US equivalent of a high school freshman [after K-8]) are required to learn nervous coordination, parts of the neuron, the structures and functions of the eye and ear, and hormone coordination among other complicated stuff. That is stuff that I learned in college physiology! And right now they are starting to learn about sexual reproduction. I just attempted to teach them meiosis, but the kicker is that they haven't even learned mitosis yet! In fact, they don't learn about mitosis, DNA, and basic genetics, or even evolution until next year in their last year of secondary school. It makes trying to explain certain things so futile and I get so disheartened when I see nothing but blank stares day after day. Sometimes I want to walk into the office of the Minister of Education and ask him what the hell they are thinking on some of this stuff.
When you combine these factors, with the fact that these kids must learn 10 subjects a week in a foreign language, ie English, for 4 years and then are asked to recall all that they've learned or absorbed, and perform well on the exams, is it hardly any wonder that an extremely small percentage of them will get to college? And even that is with a grading scale where 20% gets you a D, 40 a C, 60 a B, and 80 an A!
Obviously there is a disconnect here. In an effort to produce knowledgeable, bright students well-versed in all major subjects, and with English speaking skills that could help them succeed internationally, the Ministry is producing a select few truly intelligent students but failing and leaving so many others behind who could otherwise succeed if given the chance. I know it's probably not fair of me to judge the system this way coming from one that is so vastly different, but then, I don't think the Tanzanian government would agree to have foreign volunteers if they didn't want any outside opinions. Maybe money, lack of resources, space at colleges, and other reasons require the Ministry to thin out its students in this way, but if that is the case I think schools and administrators should quit kidding themselves and their students about what they can achieve. It's not fair to anyone to push schools and students as hard as they do here and expect to graduate 80% of them when it's simply not possible. And I know that I shouldn't worry about this, that I won't change the system, nor do I hope to. But I guess what I'm trying to say is that when you are in a position where all you want is for you kids to succeed, and day in and day out you see them being let down by forces they can't control, and anything you try to do to help goes to waste, it doesn't make for very fun work. To borrow another descriptive expression from my mother, I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't...
Well then, I guess I am not a good teacher. While I do my best to make the students' biology pertinent to their every-day lives, and attempt to enhance their learning by using other teaching techniques, most times I enter that classroom, I am prepared to lecture at the kids. Why? It's partly due to my lack of creativity and experience as a teacher, but the main reason is because the same Ministry which wants me to do lab work, group projects, and have guest speakers also mandates that we complete its syllabus of topics which can show up on the students' national exams. And these syllabi are so chalk full of information, most of which are inane details of biology that only overwhelm my students, that getting through it all is an awfully daunting task.
So while I appreciate the Ministry's message, it also creates a lot of angst. Do I take more time teaching certain topics and using other techniques to enhance student learning at the expense of other topics and potentially the expense of students' national exams scores—which determine their futures—because I didn't cover certain test topics? Or do I limit myself to lecturing in order to finish everything at the expense of the students' comprehension? Like I said, I've opted to lecture.
The matter of the national exams also creates issues. Because so much emphasis is placed on these tests, ie, if they fail they don't have much hope of continuing their education, the students have a one-track mind, wanting only to learn how to answer exam questions. It's almost as if they are robots programmed to take in the info I give them, and then spit it out again on the exams, with little to no thought as to what it is they are actually learning. I've tried to stress independent thinking, processing, and analysis—what is happening here? How? Why and why is it important to me?—and that if they can do that they should be able to answer any question. But after almost a year, I don't think that is doing much good or being understood, as I still get students who come to me and literally ask me to tell them how to answer a past exam question, regardless of the fact that I have recently taught them that material. It's easy to get frustrated with them, but that's not fair. I mean, the headmaster has told them that when studying for any exam, they should study past exams and not their notes. How the hell can they answer an exam question if they don't understand their notes first? So do I continue to stress independent thinking and doing things my way? Or do I essentially teach them to these tests—something I'm fundamentally against—if that helps them do better on the tests but doesn't increase their understanding or analysis?
Another problem I'm facing is a severely skewed idea of what is vital secondary level biological information and the order in which it is presented. For example, Form III students (who are in their 10th year of education so roughly the US equivalent of a high school freshman [after K-8]) are required to learn nervous coordination, parts of the neuron, the structures and functions of the eye and ear, and hormone coordination among other complicated stuff. That is stuff that I learned in college physiology! And right now they are starting to learn about sexual reproduction. I just attempted to teach them meiosis, but the kicker is that they haven't even learned mitosis yet! In fact, they don't learn about mitosis, DNA, and basic genetics, or even evolution until next year in their last year of secondary school. It makes trying to explain certain things so futile and I get so disheartened when I see nothing but blank stares day after day. Sometimes I want to walk into the office of the Minister of Education and ask him what the hell they are thinking on some of this stuff.
When you combine these factors, with the fact that these kids must learn 10 subjects a week in a foreign language, ie English, for 4 years and then are asked to recall all that they've learned or absorbed, and perform well on the exams, is it hardly any wonder that an extremely small percentage of them will get to college? And even that is with a grading scale where 20% gets you a D, 40 a C, 60 a B, and 80 an A!
Obviously there is a disconnect here. In an effort to produce knowledgeable, bright students well-versed in all major subjects, and with English speaking skills that could help them succeed internationally, the Ministry is producing a select few truly intelligent students but failing and leaving so many others behind who could otherwise succeed if given the chance. I know it's probably not fair of me to judge the system this way coming from one that is so vastly different, but then, I don't think the Tanzanian government would agree to have foreign volunteers if they didn't want any outside opinions. Maybe money, lack of resources, space at colleges, and other reasons require the Ministry to thin out its students in this way, but if that is the case I think schools and administrators should quit kidding themselves and their students about what they can achieve. It's not fair to anyone to push schools and students as hard as they do here and expect to graduate 80% of them when it's simply not possible. And I know that I shouldn't worry about this, that I won't change the system, nor do I hope to. But I guess what I'm trying to say is that when you are in a position where all you want is for you kids to succeed, and day in and day out you see them being let down by forces they can't control, and anything you try to do to help goes to waste, it doesn't make for very fun work. To borrow another descriptive expression from my mother, I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't...
Friday, September 18, 2009
A Trek Through Zambia
three weeks ago, i took advantage of our school's mid-term break to journey to zambia to meet up with a great SCU friend, emily george, who came up from namibia where she is teaching with a program called world teach. Our destination? The one and only victoria falls, one of the seven natural wonders of the world.
On a wednesday morning i gathered up my huge backpack crammed with stuff for the week, and got on a coaster to mbeya town. There i would be catching the train that runs between dar es salaam and kapiri mposhi, a junction town about three hours out of lusaka, zambia's capital. I was told to report at 12 noon for the train which is scheduled to depart around 1:30, so i arrived around 10 am because i had yet to be given my bed or cabin number. Problem is, this train is notoriously late, and sure enough i was promptly told that the train would arrive sometime between 2 and 4 in the morning! Fortunately, the train station is right next to the place where we had the girls conference and fellow PCV anita teaches, so i passed most of the time waiting for the horribly delayed train, part of which was caused by a workers' strike, and as i learned later a 10 hour mid-trip repair job.
Hoping (against hope) the train would arrive around 2, i made my way back to the station just after midnight thinking i could snooze a little on the waiting room floor. Well, not only was the waiting room closed, but a platform employee informed me that the train wouldn't be arriving until 6:30 am. Not wanting to disturb anita again, i was in a bit of a pickle, until the employee kindly showed me to the employee locker room (for you “Rudy” fans picture the employee locker room Rudy sleeps in, only smaller), and essentially told me to make myself at home. I was surprised to see three women, two with babies, on the floor and benches conversing and laughing as only tanzanians can do. They were vendors waiting to sell their goods the next day when the train finally rolled into the station. After some chit-chatting where i utilized my favorite joke by telling the women that i pray in the Church of Satan (tanzanians love to ask you your religion and have a good laugh when i reply with that), i tried to get a few hours of shut-eye on a not altogether uncomfortable bench. Around 6 i woke up and got ready to board the train. Problem was it didn't arrive til after 7:30 and then we sat for another 3 hours before departing, bringing the total delay to a nice, convenient, and exhilarating 20 hours.
But when the train finally did get moving it really was enjoyable and brought back great memories of trains through europe. It didn't move at break neck speeds, but the sound of the wheels on the tracks, the familiar jolts, and the space of a sleeper cabin to fully lie down unhindered, were soothing and a much needed break from the cramped chaos of a bus. As the train wound its way south, i tried to take in as much of the scenery: the hills and tall green trees of tanzania quickly gave way to a stark, dry flatness, spotted with short savannah-like trees and tall yellow grass—a gorgeous landscape despite the desolation. And at the end of the day i was treated to a gorgeous, textbook blood-orange sunset.
Early the next morning i arrived in kapiri mposhi, but my journey was far from over. I first had to cram myself into a 3 hour mini-bus ride to lusaka, and then get on a bus to livingstone, the closest town in zambia to the falls, in the very south of the country next to zimbabwe. My travel delays were not over though, because on the bus from lusaka, we got in a minor collision pulling back onto the highway after a routine traffic stop due to a miscommunication of who was going to pass first. So, a 6 hour bus ride quickly became 8 hours, and my sanity quickly eroded. But, finally, i arrived in livingstone at the hostel after 10 at night a ripe 60 hours after showing up in mbeya to depart!
The next morning i happily found emily and met her friends mattie, jen, and adam who she had a rented a car and drove up with from namibia. We took it easy for most of the day taking the opportunity to catch up and stroll through livingstone and a craft market. livingstone is a quaint town, with a modern street grid, and western buildings, but because it is right next to the falls, it is obviously very touristy, and it felt odd to be solicited for business as a tourist after being so used to just living and working here. But that evening we had some fun by going on a sunset booze cruise on the zambezi river. The air was warm, the breeze was pleasant off the water, the sun put on a magnificent show, and the booze (though not the choicest!) flowed freely, and we all had a great time—much needed after my travels—in the company of about 10 super fun PCVs from zambia who were in town, some nice italians from milan who humored us despite our poor italian, a lone hippopatamus in the river, and a host of other party-goers.
Sunday we again relaxed in livingstone and at the hostel, but we treated ourselves to a lovely italian dinner complete with bruschetta, pesto linguine, and oven-baked pizza. Bellissimo! The only thing it was missing was the bottle of vintage red wine!
We didn't get to victoria falls until monday morning, but it was well worth the wait. I don't think that i can do them justice, but they really were breath-taking. The park on the zambian side of the falls affords views of the eastern end of the roughly 2 kilometer wide falls, so though it's not possible to see all the falls, what we did see was awesome. Because it's dry season, there was less water, and so the falls didn't thunder or mist as much they do earlier in the year, but each small section of falling water made for a picturesque cascade over sheer dark cliffs of basalt rock. That day also happened to be adrenaline day as the rest of the crew took part in some of the extreme activities that are present there. They did a gorge swing (which is a 50 m free fall before swinging), and the world's third highest bungee jump at 111 m! But since i wanted to do the zambezi white-water rafting the next day, i had to settle for taking pictures and being nervous for them.
The others spent their money on that other stuff, but i spent it on the world famous, and pretty large rapids of the zambezi river. In rafting there is a scale to measure the enormity and danger of rapids, class 1 being the tamest and class 6 being the most extreme (aka insane). In the full day of rafting that i did we went through several class 4 rapids and a couple class 5 (which is the highest that an amateur would be guided though). Every time we approached a major rapid there was always the thrill and rush of knowing that the river could very easily flip your boat or toss you into the water. And indeed on one rapid our boat flipped, and on a couple more i fell out because the rapids caught me by surprise. You learn really quickly to respect the power of the water and what it can do. The other highlight was just floating through the beautiful batoka gorge that the zambezi carves out below the falls. High cliffs of rock and small dessicated trees ran down to the water side where the river cut amazing sharp, cube and box-like shapes of black basalt rock. The beauty of it all reminded me a lot of a narrower version of the columbia river gorge back home in the great state of washington.
Wednesday was another chill day of hanging out with emily and the others and enjoying each others' company. by far the best part of my trip was just being able to spend time with emily. many of you know that i miss you all like crazy and especially family and friends from college, so it was really nice to see and hang out with her. so when thursday morning rolled around and her and her crew got in their trucks to head back to namibia and i got on a bus to head north, it was tough to say good-bye and to be honest, i had no desire to return to tanzania. but i think that is the anxiety anyone feels when they prepare to depart from an enjoyable and memorable visit with friends or family, and as the buses i rode (i avoided the hassle of train delays and bused overnight back to the border) put more miles behind me i began to recognize the blessing of having spent time with emily, and of having gotten the chance to relax and refresh myself for the last quarter of this school year...
On a wednesday morning i gathered up my huge backpack crammed with stuff for the week, and got on a coaster to mbeya town. There i would be catching the train that runs between dar es salaam and kapiri mposhi, a junction town about three hours out of lusaka, zambia's capital. I was told to report at 12 noon for the train which is scheduled to depart around 1:30, so i arrived around 10 am because i had yet to be given my bed or cabin number. Problem is, this train is notoriously late, and sure enough i was promptly told that the train would arrive sometime between 2 and 4 in the morning! Fortunately, the train station is right next to the place where we had the girls conference and fellow PCV anita teaches, so i passed most of the time waiting for the horribly delayed train, part of which was caused by a workers' strike, and as i learned later a 10 hour mid-trip repair job.
Hoping (against hope) the train would arrive around 2, i made my way back to the station just after midnight thinking i could snooze a little on the waiting room floor. Well, not only was the waiting room closed, but a platform employee informed me that the train wouldn't be arriving until 6:30 am. Not wanting to disturb anita again, i was in a bit of a pickle, until the employee kindly showed me to the employee locker room (for you “Rudy” fans picture the employee locker room Rudy sleeps in, only smaller), and essentially told me to make myself at home. I was surprised to see three women, two with babies, on the floor and benches conversing and laughing as only tanzanians can do. They were vendors waiting to sell their goods the next day when the train finally rolled into the station. After some chit-chatting where i utilized my favorite joke by telling the women that i pray in the Church of Satan (tanzanians love to ask you your religion and have a good laugh when i reply with that), i tried to get a few hours of shut-eye on a not altogether uncomfortable bench. Around 6 i woke up and got ready to board the train. Problem was it didn't arrive til after 7:30 and then we sat for another 3 hours before departing, bringing the total delay to a nice, convenient, and exhilarating 20 hours.
But when the train finally did get moving it really was enjoyable and brought back great memories of trains through europe. It didn't move at break neck speeds, but the sound of the wheels on the tracks, the familiar jolts, and the space of a sleeper cabin to fully lie down unhindered, were soothing and a much needed break from the cramped chaos of a bus. As the train wound its way south, i tried to take in as much of the scenery: the hills and tall green trees of tanzania quickly gave way to a stark, dry flatness, spotted with short savannah-like trees and tall yellow grass—a gorgeous landscape despite the desolation. And at the end of the day i was treated to a gorgeous, textbook blood-orange sunset.
Early the next morning i arrived in kapiri mposhi, but my journey was far from over. I first had to cram myself into a 3 hour mini-bus ride to lusaka, and then get on a bus to livingstone, the closest town in zambia to the falls, in the very south of the country next to zimbabwe. My travel delays were not over though, because on the bus from lusaka, we got in a minor collision pulling back onto the highway after a routine traffic stop due to a miscommunication of who was going to pass first. So, a 6 hour bus ride quickly became 8 hours, and my sanity quickly eroded. But, finally, i arrived in livingstone at the hostel after 10 at night a ripe 60 hours after showing up in mbeya to depart!
The next morning i happily found emily and met her friends mattie, jen, and adam who she had a rented a car and drove up with from namibia. We took it easy for most of the day taking the opportunity to catch up and stroll through livingstone and a craft market. livingstone is a quaint town, with a modern street grid, and western buildings, but because it is right next to the falls, it is obviously very touristy, and it felt odd to be solicited for business as a tourist after being so used to just living and working here. But that evening we had some fun by going on a sunset booze cruise on the zambezi river. The air was warm, the breeze was pleasant off the water, the sun put on a magnificent show, and the booze (though not the choicest!) flowed freely, and we all had a great time—much needed after my travels—in the company of about 10 super fun PCVs from zambia who were in town, some nice italians from milan who humored us despite our poor italian, a lone hippopatamus in the river, and a host of other party-goers.
Sunday we again relaxed in livingstone and at the hostel, but we treated ourselves to a lovely italian dinner complete with bruschetta, pesto linguine, and oven-baked pizza. Bellissimo! The only thing it was missing was the bottle of vintage red wine!
We didn't get to victoria falls until monday morning, but it was well worth the wait. I don't think that i can do them justice, but they really were breath-taking. The park on the zambian side of the falls affords views of the eastern end of the roughly 2 kilometer wide falls, so though it's not possible to see all the falls, what we did see was awesome. Because it's dry season, there was less water, and so the falls didn't thunder or mist as much they do earlier in the year, but each small section of falling water made for a picturesque cascade over sheer dark cliffs of basalt rock. That day also happened to be adrenaline day as the rest of the crew took part in some of the extreme activities that are present there. They did a gorge swing (which is a 50 m free fall before swinging), and the world's third highest bungee jump at 111 m! But since i wanted to do the zambezi white-water rafting the next day, i had to settle for taking pictures and being nervous for them.
The others spent their money on that other stuff, but i spent it on the world famous, and pretty large rapids of the zambezi river. In rafting there is a scale to measure the enormity and danger of rapids, class 1 being the tamest and class 6 being the most extreme (aka insane). In the full day of rafting that i did we went through several class 4 rapids and a couple class 5 (which is the highest that an amateur would be guided though). Every time we approached a major rapid there was always the thrill and rush of knowing that the river could very easily flip your boat or toss you into the water. And indeed on one rapid our boat flipped, and on a couple more i fell out because the rapids caught me by surprise. You learn really quickly to respect the power of the water and what it can do. The other highlight was just floating through the beautiful batoka gorge that the zambezi carves out below the falls. High cliffs of rock and small dessicated trees ran down to the water side where the river cut amazing sharp, cube and box-like shapes of black basalt rock. The beauty of it all reminded me a lot of a narrower version of the columbia river gorge back home in the great state of washington.
Wednesday was another chill day of hanging out with emily and the others and enjoying each others' company. by far the best part of my trip was just being able to spend time with emily. many of you know that i miss you all like crazy and especially family and friends from college, so it was really nice to see and hang out with her. so when thursday morning rolled around and her and her crew got in their trucks to head back to namibia and i got on a bus to head north, it was tough to say good-bye and to be honest, i had no desire to return to tanzania. but i think that is the anxiety anyone feels when they prepare to depart from an enjoyable and memorable visit with friends or family, and as the buses i rode (i avoided the hassle of train delays and bused overnight back to the border) put more miles behind me i began to recognize the blessing of having spent time with emily, and of having gotten the chance to relax and refresh myself for the last quarter of this school year...
My Pet Rabbit Washington
In another completely unexpected display of generosity from a neighbor, I was gifted a white rabbit a few weeks ago. Here's the story:
On the coaster (aka mini-bus) ride back from Kyela (my banking and post office town) a few Sundays ago, I sat next to a man who turned out to be the owner of a duka (shop) that I frequent there (He's also the father of the cool guy my age, Isaac, who is always “working the the register”) Anyway, we get to talking and he tells me that he wants to give me a “sungura.” I had heard the word before, but couldn't remember the meaning, so I played polite foreigner, and smiled and nodded that, yes, I would accompany him to his farm which is close to my bus stop to accept the sungura.
After the 5 minute walk to his place, I mustered up the courage to ask what a sungura is. Right before he opens the door to this huge coop that holds chickens, ducks, and yes, rabbits, he translates that sungura means rabbit. He then asks if I would prefer a chicken, but having tasted and enjoyed rabbit (because let's be honest, he was giving me a rabbit to eat) at Easter, I thought “What the hell, I'll take a rabbit!” which came out as “Nimeshangaa kupata sungura, lakini nashukuru sana!” (I'm surprised to be getting a rabbit, but I'm very grateful!) and he gave me a average sized all-white rabbit with red eyes.
He then lent me a wicker basket to carry the poor thing back to Ngana about 20 minutes away. On the walk I decided that I would give it to my neighbors the Manjuas, who I eat dinner with every week, hoping that we might eat rabbit that night, but also wanting to relinquish any responsibility to take care of the animal. When I arrived however, I saw that they were preparing chicken, so I quickly asked if they had a place that they could put it, ie to take care of it, but again, no luck. Before I left, they asked its name. I quickly thought of Mzimu, or ghost, considering its complexion (wouldn't that have been a great name?), but that was quickly shot down by Mama Anita, who proceeded to ask which state in America I'm from. “Washington,” I replied. “Haya, jina lake ni Washington” (Ok its name is Washington) she said. I couldn't help but laugh along with the creativity and enthusiastically agreed. (Turns out Washington is female, and not that Washington isn't a unisex name, especially when you're naming rabbits, but i found that pretty comical!)
But I was still stuck with a rabbit to tend to, so I went to my other neighbor Villa, who had a rabbit shed not in use. She kindly agreed to allow me to put the rabbit there, so we cleaned and fixed the joint up a bit, and voila, Washington had a home! Since then, you wouldn't believe how many people have told me that I should get a male rabbit to mate with her, and start raising rabbits. No thanks, I tell them, teaching keeps me busy enough.
I must say that I think I'm getting attached to the rabbit and enjoy seeing her eat my vegetable scraps and wonder if I could ever eat her. Maybe if her name was Mzimu, but you can't kill and eat a rabbit named after your home state, can you? That'd be some bad karma or something,right? But then again, I'm not sure I want to have the hassle of a pet rabbit for the next year, and they are pretty tasty (If you doubt that, try one: they taste like chicken)!
[In other exciting news concerning the man who gave me the rabbit, he also raises turkeys! So if you know how to cook a turkey without an oven, and want to come visit, I can arrange a feast for us! Karibu sana!]
On the coaster (aka mini-bus) ride back from Kyela (my banking and post office town) a few Sundays ago, I sat next to a man who turned out to be the owner of a duka (shop) that I frequent there (He's also the father of the cool guy my age, Isaac, who is always “working the the register”) Anyway, we get to talking and he tells me that he wants to give me a “sungura.” I had heard the word before, but couldn't remember the meaning, so I played polite foreigner, and smiled and nodded that, yes, I would accompany him to his farm which is close to my bus stop to accept the sungura.
After the 5 minute walk to his place, I mustered up the courage to ask what a sungura is. Right before he opens the door to this huge coop that holds chickens, ducks, and yes, rabbits, he translates that sungura means rabbit. He then asks if I would prefer a chicken, but having tasted and enjoyed rabbit (because let's be honest, he was giving me a rabbit to eat) at Easter, I thought “What the hell, I'll take a rabbit!” which came out as “Nimeshangaa kupata sungura, lakini nashukuru sana!” (I'm surprised to be getting a rabbit, but I'm very grateful!) and he gave me a average sized all-white rabbit with red eyes.
He then lent me a wicker basket to carry the poor thing back to Ngana about 20 minutes away. On the walk I decided that I would give it to my neighbors the Manjuas, who I eat dinner with every week, hoping that we might eat rabbit that night, but also wanting to relinquish any responsibility to take care of the animal. When I arrived however, I saw that they were preparing chicken, so I quickly asked if they had a place that they could put it, ie to take care of it, but again, no luck. Before I left, they asked its name. I quickly thought of Mzimu, or ghost, considering its complexion (wouldn't that have been a great name?), but that was quickly shot down by Mama Anita, who proceeded to ask which state in America I'm from. “Washington,” I replied. “Haya, jina lake ni Washington” (Ok its name is Washington) she said. I couldn't help but laugh along with the creativity and enthusiastically agreed. (Turns out Washington is female, and not that Washington isn't a unisex name, especially when you're naming rabbits, but i found that pretty comical!)
But I was still stuck with a rabbit to tend to, so I went to my other neighbor Villa, who had a rabbit shed not in use. She kindly agreed to allow me to put the rabbit there, so we cleaned and fixed the joint up a bit, and voila, Washington had a home! Since then, you wouldn't believe how many people have told me that I should get a male rabbit to mate with her, and start raising rabbits. No thanks, I tell them, teaching keeps me busy enough.
I must say that I think I'm getting attached to the rabbit and enjoy seeing her eat my vegetable scraps and wonder if I could ever eat her. Maybe if her name was Mzimu, but you can't kill and eat a rabbit named after your home state, can you? That'd be some bad karma or something,right? But then again, I'm not sure I want to have the hassle of a pet rabbit for the next year, and they are pretty tasty (If you doubt that, try one: they taste like chicken)!
[In other exciting news concerning the man who gave me the rabbit, he also raises turkeys! So if you know how to cook a turkey without an oven, and want to come visit, I can arrange a feast for us! Karibu sana!]
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