We have been in our new home for 4 days now… It’s a nice size house located in Magomeni, which I guess you could call a suburb of Mtwara town. Living in Magomeni is like living in a small village again. It’s a quaint little area, where the majority of our neighbors live in mud homes and the mamas spend their days outside cooking away at their jikos. There are also a ton of kids that just love the new wazungo (white people). We have a following of watoto (children) that sit and play on our front porch and get so excited when we come outside.
Our house is located exactly 2 miles away from the beach and the Indian Ocean. We have a new favorite run that is right along the water; it’s beautiful and definitely makes me feel like I’m on vacation. It’s also a really nice place for us to escape to when we need a break from village life. Because of our location to the water, there is an ample supply of fresh fish sold at our local soko (market), which is about a 2-minute walk from our house. The fish here are incredible and sooo cheap. Last night we bought 4 nice filets of tuna for a total of 2000tsh, which is equivalent to $1.50….amazing! It’s nice that we are saving money in the food department because we have been spending shillingi non-stop to try to settle into our big empty house.
The house has a living room, dining room, kitchen/pantry, 4 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms with real showers that actually work! No more bucket baths for Moss and me. When we arrived, the organization I work for already supplied us with a bed, a mattress, a table, two chairs, and curtains for all the windows. We are so thankful for everything they gave us, but we wish we could have picked out our curtains.
So in the process of getting settled in this weekend we rode our bikes to the large soko in town and bought big wicker/straw mats to put on the concrete floors in the living room and dining room. We also found 2 little hand-carved wooden chairs and a mini Tanzanian kitanda (bed) made of wood and wicker/straw. We got the kitanda for 6000tsh or about $4 and are using it for our sofa right now, but we plan to go to the fundi (carpenter) down the street with a picture of what we want for our sofa and see if he can make it. As for other purchases we bought a small refrigerator and an electric burner, which makes life sooo much easier! We have been cooking on a kerosene jiko since we arrived in Mtwara, and now it feels like such a luxury to have 2 burners and to be able to cook more than one thing at a time.
Anyway, that’s a mini update on our house. I will take and upload photos soon, but I’m not quite ready to pull out our camera in front of the kids and neighbors. Right when the watoto and neighbors see our camera, they will come knocking on our door asking us to “piga picha” all the time. So somehow I will try to sneak a picture of the house and the neighborhood.
Oh, in other news we have a cute new kitten! She is sooo adorable! I will tell you all about Kali next time.
XOXOX
Monday, September 6, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Working for I-TECH
I am working for the International Training and Education Center for Health (I-TECH). I guess I should give you a little background before talking about what I will actually be doing… I-TECH is working in collaboration with U.S. Center for Disease Control and the Tanzanian Ministry of Health and Social Welfare to strengthen the training of health care workers in Tanzania. Currently there is a severe shortage of qualified healthcare workers in the local hospitals, health centers, and village clinics throughout the country. There is about 50 physicians per million people in the urban areas of Tanzania, and only 16 physicians per million in the rural areas. Sometimes those numbers are just so hard to wrap my mind around… just think of how many physicians you may see on one floor in a U.S. hospital.
An extensive training network exists across Tanzania and consists of 8 different Zonal Health Training Institutes (ZHTI). These institutes are basically universities where the students study to become Assistant Medical Officers (AMO), Clinical Officers, Clinical Assistants, and Nurses, all which study for a shorter period of time and can not do as much as a physician, but they can ultimately reduce the shortage of workers in the field. The AMOs go to school for 5 years to receive an advanced diploma in Clinical medicine. AMOs are able to perform about 60-80% of the clinical work of physicians, and they are often the only staff at hospitals in rural districts. The Clinical Officers go to school for 3 years to receive a diploma in Clinical Medicine, while the Clinical Assistants go to school for 2 years to receive a certificate in Clinical Medicine. The Clinical Officers and Assistants are often the sole healthcare providers at the lower level health centers and small village clinics. They are able to perform basic clinical work, like vaccinations, treating minor conditions, and delivering babies (this one doesn’t seem like basic clinic work to me, but its considered basic here since most people living in the bush do not have access to proper care.)
So that’s a little background on the training institutes, and basically my role in it all is that I’m an I-TECH Field Officer for one of the eight training institutes. I-TECHs office is in Dar es Salaam, so I’m the only person from the organization at this institute. I will be doing research to create a health profile of the southern zone- basically just what resources they have and what they need in the hospitals, health centers, and clinics in this zone. I will also be teaching 2 courses to the Clinical Officers- ‘Health Promotion and Advocacy’ and ‘Communication & Counseling Skills.’ Yesterday I was also asked if I would be interested in writing a grant for a future project they have in mind… I will definitely be busy, but I’m excited about my role here.
In other news… we are still waiting to move into our house, but they are making serious progress so I am hopeful that we will move in this weekend. Moss and I went to check it out yesterday and they have finished building the fence around the back, replaced the screen windows, put in a water tank, and they are in the process of painting the house inside and out. Throughout Tanzania (well in every village I have been to so far) the inside of the majority of houses (the ones that are not made of mud) are painted two different colors- the bottom 5 feet of the walls are normally a bright color and then top half is white. I’m not quite sure why they do this, but it definitely makes the painting process take much longer. So our new color scheme is bright peach and white- it’s really not too bad, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. The inside kind of reminds me of a beach house, but the outside is a whole different story… it’s peach and a puke-like orange! I have my fingers crossed that they will paint over the puke orange, but either way I’m just excited to finally have a place to call home.
An extensive training network exists across Tanzania and consists of 8 different Zonal Health Training Institutes (ZHTI). These institutes are basically universities where the students study to become Assistant Medical Officers (AMO), Clinical Officers, Clinical Assistants, and Nurses, all which study for a shorter period of time and can not do as much as a physician, but they can ultimately reduce the shortage of workers in the field. The AMOs go to school for 5 years to receive an advanced diploma in Clinical medicine. AMOs are able to perform about 60-80% of the clinical work of physicians, and they are often the only staff at hospitals in rural districts. The Clinical Officers go to school for 3 years to receive a diploma in Clinical Medicine, while the Clinical Assistants go to school for 2 years to receive a certificate in Clinical Medicine. The Clinical Officers and Assistants are often the sole healthcare providers at the lower level health centers and small village clinics. They are able to perform basic clinical work, like vaccinations, treating minor conditions, and delivering babies (this one doesn’t seem like basic clinic work to me, but its considered basic here since most people living in the bush do not have access to proper care.)
So that’s a little background on the training institutes, and basically my role in it all is that I’m an I-TECH Field Officer for one of the eight training institutes. I-TECHs office is in Dar es Salaam, so I’m the only person from the organization at this institute. I will be doing research to create a health profile of the southern zone- basically just what resources they have and what they need in the hospitals, health centers, and clinics in this zone. I will also be teaching 2 courses to the Clinical Officers- ‘Health Promotion and Advocacy’ and ‘Communication & Counseling Skills.’ Yesterday I was also asked if I would be interested in writing a grant for a future project they have in mind… I will definitely be busy, but I’m excited about my role here.
In other news… we are still waiting to move into our house, but they are making serious progress so I am hopeful that we will move in this weekend. Moss and I went to check it out yesterday and they have finished building the fence around the back, replaced the screen windows, put in a water tank, and they are in the process of painting the house inside and out. Throughout Tanzania (well in every village I have been to so far) the inside of the majority of houses (the ones that are not made of mud) are painted two different colors- the bottom 5 feet of the walls are normally a bright color and then top half is white. I’m not quite sure why they do this, but it definitely makes the painting process take much longer. So our new color scheme is bright peach and white- it’s really not too bad, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. The inside kind of reminds me of a beach house, but the outside is a whole different story… it’s peach and a puke-like orange! I have my fingers crossed that they will paint over the puke orange, but either way I’m just excited to finally have a place to call home.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
First Impressions of a New Job
Day two at my new job as the sole staff member in the research and monitoring department at the Mnazi Bay-Ruvumu Estuary Marine Park. As I draft this entry, I am sitting in on a meeting at one of the eleven small villages that fall within the park. Altogether there are close to thirty leaders, fisherman, and local residents, representing three of the eleven villages, sitting on straw mats in the shade of a large mango tree, helping to revise and update their "village environmental management plans" ("VEMPs") - documents that represent the local planning component of the park's General Management Plan ("GMP"), which is likewise due to be updated this year.
Given the fact that there has been no new substantive research completed since the last GMP was drafted five years ago (due to a lack of funds), the revised VEMPs being developed here will serve as the main substantive change to the GMP. Yet despite their importance, the four park representatives who are leading this meeting (and who unlike me, understand the mix of Kiswahili and Makonde being spoken) seem to be encountering some resistance from the attendees, who are perhaps somewhat confounded by the very concept of a VEMP, and perhaps even resistant to efforts related to the park, which is known by some locals as much for its rules and regulations as for any benefit it has imparted upon local residents.
For example, absent from today's meeting is the park's director, Red Fred Ngowo, who is currently in a meeting with the Mtwara regional commissioner to talk about relaxing enforcement of the park's rules and regulations leading up to local and national elections is October. Resident fisherman are apparently complaining to officials that park officers are harassing them, and the politicians want to appease constituents and show some results prior to elections.
Despite their initial hesitancy though, the attendees at today's meeting appear to be warming up to the process, a sign of the unusual level of local cooperation that underlies the park's foundation. Established just a decade ago, the Mnazi Bay-Ruvumu Estuary Marine Park is unique among other marine parks in the world for the amount of dry land included within the park's boundaries - 220 square kilometers, approximately one-third of the park's total area. Altogether, there are over 30,000 people who live within the park, making local community participation and involvement especially critical to the park's management.
This reality would seem to make today's meeting a fair success, regardless of any controversy surrounding enforcement of the park's rules and regulations. After all, the attendees have now been sitting here, patiently cooperating, for just shy of three hours, in the middle of the day, with no break, even for lunch (which may also be due to the fact that a majority of these people are likely fasting in observance of Ramadan). And so we sit here, discussing the village plans, as hens and their chicks dig through the leaf litter under this mango tree, roosters crow and children play in the distance, and the wind gently blows rough the fronds of the surrounding coconut and banana trees.
The villages on Msimbati Peninsula, ringing Mnazi Bay, are unusually tidy by Tanzanian standards, with little trash on the ground, and the dirt around the houses neatly swept. Even the homes, almost all of which are made of mud walls and coconut thatch roofs, seem somehow well put together, with a standard design that includes a front overhang to the roof, supported by four thin, evenly spaced poles. And the people themselves are a neat lot - the men almost all dressed in slacks and collared shirts, with varying styles of the conventional Muslim brimless cap covering their closely cropped heads, and the women covered from head to calf with brightly colored, if discordant, wraps, called "kangas."
So despite no end in sight to this meeting (now approaching four hours), I am happy to be here, working on Tanzania's southeastern coast. Merritt and I agree that the people here seem very kind and welcoming. And even though we're still both a little unsure of what our respective roles will be for the organizations were working for, not to mention still awaiting word that we can finally move into our house, we think we'll fit in well here and eventually be able to call this little corner of the country home.
Given the fact that there has been no new substantive research completed since the last GMP was drafted five years ago (due to a lack of funds), the revised VEMPs being developed here will serve as the main substantive change to the GMP. Yet despite their importance, the four park representatives who are leading this meeting (and who unlike me, understand the mix of Kiswahili and Makonde being spoken) seem to be encountering some resistance from the attendees, who are perhaps somewhat confounded by the very concept of a VEMP, and perhaps even resistant to efforts related to the park, which is known by some locals as much for its rules and regulations as for any benefit it has imparted upon local residents.
For example, absent from today's meeting is the park's director, Red Fred Ngowo, who is currently in a meeting with the Mtwara regional commissioner to talk about relaxing enforcement of the park's rules and regulations leading up to local and national elections is October. Resident fisherman are apparently complaining to officials that park officers are harassing them, and the politicians want to appease constituents and show some results prior to elections.
Despite their initial hesitancy though, the attendees at today's meeting appear to be warming up to the process, a sign of the unusual level of local cooperation that underlies the park's foundation. Established just a decade ago, the Mnazi Bay-Ruvumu Estuary Marine Park is unique among other marine parks in the world for the amount of dry land included within the park's boundaries - 220 square kilometers, approximately one-third of the park's total area. Altogether, there are over 30,000 people who live within the park, making local community participation and involvement especially critical to the park's management.
This reality would seem to make today's meeting a fair success, regardless of any controversy surrounding enforcement of the park's rules and regulations. After all, the attendees have now been sitting here, patiently cooperating, for just shy of three hours, in the middle of the day, with no break, even for lunch (which may also be due to the fact that a majority of these people are likely fasting in observance of Ramadan). And so we sit here, discussing the village plans, as hens and their chicks dig through the leaf litter under this mango tree, roosters crow and children play in the distance, and the wind gently blows rough the fronds of the surrounding coconut and banana trees.
The villages on Msimbati Peninsula, ringing Mnazi Bay, are unusually tidy by Tanzanian standards, with little trash on the ground, and the dirt around the houses neatly swept. Even the homes, almost all of which are made of mud walls and coconut thatch roofs, seem somehow well put together, with a standard design that includes a front overhang to the roof, supported by four thin, evenly spaced poles. And the people themselves are a neat lot - the men almost all dressed in slacks and collared shirts, with varying styles of the conventional Muslim brimless cap covering their closely cropped heads, and the women covered from head to calf with brightly colored, if discordant, wraps, called "kangas."
So despite no end in sight to this meeting (now approaching four hours), I am happy to be here, working on Tanzania's southeastern coast. Merritt and I agree that the people here seem very kind and welcoming. And even though we're still both a little unsure of what our respective roles will be for the organizations were working for, not to mention still awaiting word that we can finally move into our house, we think we'll fit in well here and eventually be able to call this little corner of the country home.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Pictures from the Past
All the Peace Corps Volunteers after the first week of training in Dar es Salaam.
This is Mkanyageni, where we have been living for the past two months.
A few of the neighboorhood kids and two of our brothers. Kisimu is on the left in the stripped shirt and Jango is on the right with the stick infront of his face. The house to the right is the house we lived in for the past two months. I should have gotten a better picture of the house. "Pole" sorry
"The Family," Moss took this picture of me and some of our extended family who were in town for a funeral.
Mama cooking away at her jiko. From the left to the right it is Mama, Mwanshamba, me, Fatuma, and Mwanidi (all our sisters). Most of the kitchens in the villages are located outside.
Mama, Mwanidi, and Fatuma cooking chakula cha mchanana (lunch).
Moss's favorite activity- Choting Maji! After going to the "bomba," which is basically just a water faucet located about a 200 yards away from our house. Moss pays the woman at the faucet about 30 cents to fill up each bucket of water, carries it back to the house with the help of Joseph (our brother) and his bicycle. He then dumps it in this big blue bucket. After about 5 trips he is finished for the day, covered in mud, and exhausted. The full blue bucket will supply enough water for the whole family to bathe, cook, clean, etc for about 1.5 or 2 days max.
Fua nguo! By far the most painful process! It takes at least 4 hours to wash clothes.
The Choo! aka where Moss and I have been going to the bathroom and taking "showers" for the last two months.
On the journey from Karutu to Dar es Salaam, many sisal plants line the roads.
Corn or Mahindi is left outside the home to dry out. The women will then pick each kernel off the cob and bring it to a local mill to make corn flour for the main staple in their diet- ugali.
On the beautiful beach in Pangani. All of the Peace Corps volunteers got one weekend off of training and we took a much needed trip to a nice resort on Pangani beach.Can you see the monkeys?
Monday, August 9, 2010
Agriculture in Tanzania - Sisal, Soil, and Subsistence Farming
Preface: This is a long entry, but hopefully it gives some impression of the challenges faced by average Tanzanians and how our work, as Peace Corps volunteers, fits in with the Tanzanian government's effort to improve the livelihoods of their people.
Last Thursday the Peace Corps environmental trainees traveled down the road from the Ministry of Agricultural Training Institute ("MATI"), where we have been attending group classes, to the Mlingano Agricultural Research Institute ("Mlingano ARI") - a sprawling collection of plantation style buildings and laboratories dating back to 1934, when Tangayika was under effective colonial rule, as a protectorate of Britain after World War I, and sisal was the defacto cash crop of choice, as a result of the earlier German colonial influence.
While the market for sisal fell precipitously in the 1970s, with the development of synthetic textiles and the concurrent rise of Brazilian and Mexican sisal production, sisal is still one of the principle cash crops here in the Tanga Region, and along much of Tanzania's coastline. For Mlingano ARI, which was originally established to help boost the country's sisal production, the plant remains at the core of the institute's research. In fact, Mlingano ARI can rightly claim to be one of the foremost centers for the development of new and improved sisal varieties, with a collection of over 120 different varieties, the largest in the world.
Today, Mlingano ARI is working on diversifying the potential uses of sisal, with current research on the plant's use for biofuels, alcohol (similar to how agave is used to produce tequila), livestock fodder, and an array of random chemical products.
If, like I was prior to coming to Tanzania, you aren't familiar with sisal, the plant indeed is similar in appearance to agave, only larger, with some varieties growing to five to six feet high. The base of the plant looks like a giant pineapple, from which dozens of long, green spikes grow up and out of. Sisal is not a fast growing crop, apparently taking four to five years to grow into harvestable size, whereafter it can be selectively harvested from for the next eight years, before the plant's potential is exhausted. Thus one of Mlingano ARI's other current research efforts is to produce a variety of sisal that can grow to harvestable size in as little as a year. Another reason for the Mlingano ARI's current research endeavors is due to the fact that only roughly 15 to 20 percent of the sisal plant can be extracted to produce raw fiber, the rest being a complete loss in the production process.
Sisal Processing - The Ngomeni Kamba Factory
Though the origins of sisal in Tanzania trace back to the days when German colonial administrators helped form massive sisal plantations, a manner of cultivation which continues today at the hands of large foreign investors, sisal production is nevertheless an important part of everyday life in the small villages us Peace Corps trainees are living in. Earlier in the week the trainees living in Mkanyageni Village, including Merritt and I, had the opportunity to visit the Ngomeni factory, in the neighboring village of Bagamoyo, and see sisal fiber being spun into rope, twine, and other sisal-based products, like rugs, doormats, even these nifty green and yellow hand bags that were a special order for the Chama Cha Mapinduzi ("CCM," or the "Party of the Revolution," the ruling party here in Tanzania).
While the relics of the colonial era litter the Tanzanian countryside, at the Ngomeni factory, those relics are actually still in use, pumping out spun sisal now more than seven decades after they first went on-line, though our tour guide noted that some machines hadn't been turned on in over a year, due to lack of demand. Altogether the factory had probably two dozen Tanzanians at work on the day we visited, not including its main offices, which we didn't get a chance to go inside.
Though there were lots of side buildings within the factory complex, current productions appeared to be largely confined to one building, an open-ended, tin-roofed, cement structure, with one long row of machines whirring away. As raw sisal fiber was fed into the first machine, an oily chemical was added to help in the combing process, which occurred in the next three or four machines, as sisal was trained into increasingly large, loosely spun bales. At the end of the production line, the final machine stripped tiny threads off the bales, running them into long strands of twine that were then wound onto drums. The drums of twine could apparently be marketed as is, or combined, with increasing thickness, to make other products, like rope.
The trip to the Ngomeni factory provided an interesting addition to my nascent perception of agriculture here in Tanzania. As the idle machines at the Ngomeni factory evidence, Tanzania's continued dependence on sisal production demonstrates how the country has largely failed to progress beyond the colonial period, in terms of developing its agricultural sector beyond a few cash crops, which, like sisal, are not even all that economically fruitful. For the lion's share of Tanzanian farmers, their work barely rises above subsistence farming, and in this enterprise, they are largely on their own, with little assistance from the state. Though the government has recently launched its "Kulima Kwanza" ("Farming First") initiative, which is intended to increase educational and financial support for these types of farmers, a year into the program seems to show little institutional change.
The State of Agriculture in Tanzania - Example of Mlingano ARI's Soil Science Research
Take for instance Mlingano ARI's current organization: despite being under the auspices of the Ministry of Agriculture, a lack of state-level financial support has forced the institute to find other sources of funding, such as international investors looking for site-specific soil and fertility analysis. In addition to being one of the leading in-country authorities on the cultivation of sisal, Mlingano ARI is also known to have the largest, most operable, and best staffed soil laboratories in the country, not to mention the only one internationally certified for quality control purposes. There are seven similar institutes in Tanzania working under the auspices of the Ministry of Agriculture, but apparently their facilities and equipment are largely outdated and understaffed. With six PhDs on staff, Mlingano ARI is the exception among its partner institutions.
With its financial independence, Mlingano ARI has also gained a large degree of operational independence, as reflected by its willingness to work for private parties. To hear the director of Mlingano ARI describe the situation, it sounds as if the institute views working autonomously as a means of ensuring the institute's continued operation, given the perpetual uncertainty surrounding national agro-politics. The decision is certainly understandable given the lack of support the institute has historically received from the state, but it does raise questions about what the institute is doing to support small-scale subsistence farmers, the principle, if not the only available, profession for the average Tanzanian.
This concern with the institute's work was even directly expressed to our trainee group in Mkanyageni Village, when we met with a group of the village's young adults. Ranging in age from their early twenties to their late forties, the fifteen or so men and women we talked to expressed the utmost frustration in only being able to "scratch the dirt" with their primitive tools and techniques, thus preventing them from being able to generate any real income from their work besides enough maize to feed their families and perhaps a bag or two to sell away. In this plight, besides their over-arching concern with the availability of enough water, they questioned why they didn't have access to loans with which to buy mechanized equipment, and why MATI and Mlingano ARI weren't doing more to help train them, despite being directly across the road from their village.
But Mlingano ARI is making quite an effort to help such farmers. In addition to farmer field schools, where farmers are given the chance to compare varying crop and fertilizer use on similar plots of land, the institute is working at a much larger level to help in national land use planning and land suitability analysis. Working through its soil analysis lab and a small GIS office, two of the institute's scientists are trying to develop detailed maps of the country that identify site-specific land-suitability guidelines, soil fertility constraints, fertilizer recommendations, and necessary soil conservation practices. This work, still in its early stages, is ultimately intended to be broken down to local and site-specific agricultural recommendations, with the assistance of regional, district and village level governments - and that's where the main obstacle to the institute's work seems to be arising.
As directed by the Ministry of Agriculture, the institute is supposed to supply this information to the district-level governments, which are then charged with disseminating it to farmers through local officials, such as the district "bwana shamba," who is in charge of agricultural development at the district level, as well as village extension officers. And beyond the problems with corruption and complacency, there is a basic shortage of human resources in this respect.
For example, though national policy dictates that there should be an agricultural extension officer working in every village in the country, only about one in four villages actually has such an officer. This deficit amounts to roughly 9,000 agricultural extension officers, a shortage that seems unlikely to be made up anytime soon. So not surprisingly, much of the Mlingano ARI's efforts in this respect are languishing, unforgotten and un-utilized, in district offices around the country.
Implications for the Environment and the People
The result of this gap in the translation of technical information is evident in the group of farmers whom we met in Mkanyageni, who have little knowledge of how to increase productivity in the soil surrounding their village, which is predominantly comprised of clay and woefully short in any kind of organic material. Without this information, these farmers can't make the connection between their cultivation practices and their water shortage problem.
With over a meter of precipitation per year (approx. 1,150 millimeters), the Tanga Region is not nearly as dry as some other parts of Tanzania. But this rain largely falls in two distinct monsoonal periods - a period of long rains from March to May (called "Masika"), followed by a dry period, before another season of short rains from mid-October to mid-December (called "Vuli"). While this precipitation is enough to allow for a wide variety of fruit crops to be grown in the region, most notably oranges, mangoes, banana, and coconut, the seasonality of the rain wreaks havoc on the main staple crop, maize, the primary food staple for most families in the region.
The problem with water in the region is that due to the clay-rich soils, little precipitation infiltrates into the ground, leaving the earth hard and sun-baked just a couple of days after even the heaviest rains. As the soil is compacted and hard, plant roots can't grow deep enough to capture the little moisture that the ground does hold onto. The result is that farmers lose a large part of their maize crop each year in between the rains, and are forced to plant increasingly larger shambas, expending more and more effort, with little if any return. And when not under cultivation, their fields are subject to severe erosion, further denuding the soil of its fertility and greatly degrading the land base.
Adding manure and compost before and after planting, tilling in the unused plant material at the end of the harvest (rather than burning the field), and planting cover crops could all help alleviate the problem, but farmers haven't been educated about these practices, and thus struggle to rise beyond subsistence farming, while also further degrading their available land resources.
So while the first impression might be to question the focus of Mlingano ARI's efforts, in terms of helping the average Tanzanian, the institute's efforts are handicapped from the get go by the problems at the regional and local level, in terms of resources and basic educational services. It must be frustrating for the scientists working there, who seem to genuinely want to help, and who remain cautiously optimistic, despite their sometimes futile efforts.
Last Thursday the Peace Corps environmental trainees traveled down the road from the Ministry of Agricultural Training Institute ("MATI"), where we have been attending group classes, to the Mlingano Agricultural Research Institute ("Mlingano ARI") - a sprawling collection of plantation style buildings and laboratories dating back to 1934, when Tangayika was under effective colonial rule, as a protectorate of Britain after World War I, and sisal was the defacto cash crop of choice, as a result of the earlier German colonial influence.
While the market for sisal fell precipitously in the 1970s, with the development of synthetic textiles and the concurrent rise of Brazilian and Mexican sisal production, sisal is still one of the principle cash crops here in the Tanga Region, and along much of Tanzania's coastline. For Mlingano ARI, which was originally established to help boost the country's sisal production, the plant remains at the core of the institute's research. In fact, Mlingano ARI can rightly claim to be one of the foremost centers for the development of new and improved sisal varieties, with a collection of over 120 different varieties, the largest in the world.
Today, Mlingano ARI is working on diversifying the potential uses of sisal, with current research on the plant's use for biofuels, alcohol (similar to how agave is used to produce tequila), livestock fodder, and an array of random chemical products.
If, like I was prior to coming to Tanzania, you aren't familiar with sisal, the plant indeed is similar in appearance to agave, only larger, with some varieties growing to five to six feet high. The base of the plant looks like a giant pineapple, from which dozens of long, green spikes grow up and out of. Sisal is not a fast growing crop, apparently taking four to five years to grow into harvestable size, whereafter it can be selectively harvested from for the next eight years, before the plant's potential is exhausted. Thus one of Mlingano ARI's other current research efforts is to produce a variety of sisal that can grow to harvestable size in as little as a year. Another reason for the Mlingano ARI's current research endeavors is due to the fact that only roughly 15 to 20 percent of the sisal plant can be extracted to produce raw fiber, the rest being a complete loss in the production process.
Sisal Processing - The Ngomeni Kamba Factory
Though the origins of sisal in Tanzania trace back to the days when German colonial administrators helped form massive sisal plantations, a manner of cultivation which continues today at the hands of large foreign investors, sisal production is nevertheless an important part of everyday life in the small villages us Peace Corps trainees are living in. Earlier in the week the trainees living in Mkanyageni Village, including Merritt and I, had the opportunity to visit the Ngomeni factory, in the neighboring village of Bagamoyo, and see sisal fiber being spun into rope, twine, and other sisal-based products, like rugs, doormats, even these nifty green and yellow hand bags that were a special order for the Chama Cha Mapinduzi ("CCM," or the "Party of the Revolution," the ruling party here in Tanzania).
While the relics of the colonial era litter the Tanzanian countryside, at the Ngomeni factory, those relics are actually still in use, pumping out spun sisal now more than seven decades after they first went on-line, though our tour guide noted that some machines hadn't been turned on in over a year, due to lack of demand. Altogether the factory had probably two dozen Tanzanians at work on the day we visited, not including its main offices, which we didn't get a chance to go inside.
Though there were lots of side buildings within the factory complex, current productions appeared to be largely confined to one building, an open-ended, tin-roofed, cement structure, with one long row of machines whirring away. As raw sisal fiber was fed into the first machine, an oily chemical was added to help in the combing process, which occurred in the next three or four machines, as sisal was trained into increasingly large, loosely spun bales. At the end of the production line, the final machine stripped tiny threads off the bales, running them into long strands of twine that were then wound onto drums. The drums of twine could apparently be marketed as is, or combined, with increasing thickness, to make other products, like rope.
The trip to the Ngomeni factory provided an interesting addition to my nascent perception of agriculture here in Tanzania. As the idle machines at the Ngomeni factory evidence, Tanzania's continued dependence on sisal production demonstrates how the country has largely failed to progress beyond the colonial period, in terms of developing its agricultural sector beyond a few cash crops, which, like sisal, are not even all that economically fruitful. For the lion's share of Tanzanian farmers, their work barely rises above subsistence farming, and in this enterprise, they are largely on their own, with little assistance from the state. Though the government has recently launched its "Kulima Kwanza" ("Farming First") initiative, which is intended to increase educational and financial support for these types of farmers, a year into the program seems to show little institutional change.
The State of Agriculture in Tanzania - Example of Mlingano ARI's Soil Science Research
Take for instance Mlingano ARI's current organization: despite being under the auspices of the Ministry of Agriculture, a lack of state-level financial support has forced the institute to find other sources of funding, such as international investors looking for site-specific soil and fertility analysis. In addition to being one of the leading in-country authorities on the cultivation of sisal, Mlingano ARI is also known to have the largest, most operable, and best staffed soil laboratories in the country, not to mention the only one internationally certified for quality control purposes. There are seven similar institutes in Tanzania working under the auspices of the Ministry of Agriculture, but apparently their facilities and equipment are largely outdated and understaffed. With six PhDs on staff, Mlingano ARI is the exception among its partner institutions.
With its financial independence, Mlingano ARI has also gained a large degree of operational independence, as reflected by its willingness to work for private parties. To hear the director of Mlingano ARI describe the situation, it sounds as if the institute views working autonomously as a means of ensuring the institute's continued operation, given the perpetual uncertainty surrounding national agro-politics. The decision is certainly understandable given the lack of support the institute has historically received from the state, but it does raise questions about what the institute is doing to support small-scale subsistence farmers, the principle, if not the only available, profession for the average Tanzanian.
This concern with the institute's work was even directly expressed to our trainee group in Mkanyageni Village, when we met with a group of the village's young adults. Ranging in age from their early twenties to their late forties, the fifteen or so men and women we talked to expressed the utmost frustration in only being able to "scratch the dirt" with their primitive tools and techniques, thus preventing them from being able to generate any real income from their work besides enough maize to feed their families and perhaps a bag or two to sell away. In this plight, besides their over-arching concern with the availability of enough water, they questioned why they didn't have access to loans with which to buy mechanized equipment, and why MATI and Mlingano ARI weren't doing more to help train them, despite being directly across the road from their village.
But Mlingano ARI is making quite an effort to help such farmers. In addition to farmer field schools, where farmers are given the chance to compare varying crop and fertilizer use on similar plots of land, the institute is working at a much larger level to help in national land use planning and land suitability analysis. Working through its soil analysis lab and a small GIS office, two of the institute's scientists are trying to develop detailed maps of the country that identify site-specific land-suitability guidelines, soil fertility constraints, fertilizer recommendations, and necessary soil conservation practices. This work, still in its early stages, is ultimately intended to be broken down to local and site-specific agricultural recommendations, with the assistance of regional, district and village level governments - and that's where the main obstacle to the institute's work seems to be arising.
As directed by the Ministry of Agriculture, the institute is supposed to supply this information to the district-level governments, which are then charged with disseminating it to farmers through local officials, such as the district "bwana shamba," who is in charge of agricultural development at the district level, as well as village extension officers. And beyond the problems with corruption and complacency, there is a basic shortage of human resources in this respect.
For example, though national policy dictates that there should be an agricultural extension officer working in every village in the country, only about one in four villages actually has such an officer. This deficit amounts to roughly 9,000 agricultural extension officers, a shortage that seems unlikely to be made up anytime soon. So not surprisingly, much of the Mlingano ARI's efforts in this respect are languishing, unforgotten and un-utilized, in district offices around the country.
Implications for the Environment and the People
The result of this gap in the translation of technical information is evident in the group of farmers whom we met in Mkanyageni, who have little knowledge of how to increase productivity in the soil surrounding their village, which is predominantly comprised of clay and woefully short in any kind of organic material. Without this information, these farmers can't make the connection between their cultivation practices and their water shortage problem.
With over a meter of precipitation per year (approx. 1,150 millimeters), the Tanga Region is not nearly as dry as some other parts of Tanzania. But this rain largely falls in two distinct monsoonal periods - a period of long rains from March to May (called "Masika"), followed by a dry period, before another season of short rains from mid-October to mid-December (called "Vuli"). While this precipitation is enough to allow for a wide variety of fruit crops to be grown in the region, most notably oranges, mangoes, banana, and coconut, the seasonality of the rain wreaks havoc on the main staple crop, maize, the primary food staple for most families in the region.
The problem with water in the region is that due to the clay-rich soils, little precipitation infiltrates into the ground, leaving the earth hard and sun-baked just a couple of days after even the heaviest rains. As the soil is compacted and hard, plant roots can't grow deep enough to capture the little moisture that the ground does hold onto. The result is that farmers lose a large part of their maize crop each year in between the rains, and are forced to plant increasingly larger shambas, expending more and more effort, with little if any return. And when not under cultivation, their fields are subject to severe erosion, further denuding the soil of its fertility and greatly degrading the land base.
Adding manure and compost before and after planting, tilling in the unused plant material at the end of the harvest (rather than burning the field), and planting cover crops could all help alleviate the problem, but farmers haven't been educated about these practices, and thus struggle to rise beyond subsistence farming, while also further degrading their available land resources.
So while the first impression might be to question the focus of Mlingano ARI's efforts, in terms of helping the average Tanzanian, the institute's efforts are handicapped from the get go by the problems at the regional and local level, in terms of resources and basic educational services. It must be frustrating for the scientists working there, who seem to genuinely want to help, and who remain cautiously optimistic, despite their sometimes futile efforts.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Site Announcement
Last Friday, after much speculation and anticipation, Merritt and I finally learned where we'll be spending our next two years - in the seaside town of Mtwara, along Tanzania's southern boarder with Mozambique. It's a town known for great seafood, some of Tanzania's best snorkling, and its hot, muggy climate. Except for the latter detail, we're pretty excited, and maybe a little relieved at the idea of having electricity and running water. The idea of life in the village - the typical Tanzanian Peace Corps volunteer's experience - was appealing in some respects(our own garden, getting to know our villagers, and working on the local level), but there are some real challenges to it as well (dealing with local politics, having to lug water back to your home everyday, being the center of attention as the "wazungo" in the village). That life will have to wait for another adventure.
In a little over two weeks, after our swearing in at the embassy in Dar es Salaam on the 18th, Merritt and I will be off for the day-long drive to Mtwara, along a road that is known to be one of the roughest in the country, though it's apparently under construction. And once we arrive, we have a house awaiting us, rented by the NGO Merritt will be working for. We've been told it's pretty "safi," with a walled-in courtyard, and several bedrooms. What that all means, we'll have to wait and see. Regardless, we feel pretty lucky.
As for our current situation, Merritt and I are currently at different ends of the country, Merritt in the north, at a village just outside Ngorongoro National Park, and myself, way to the south, in the dusty town of Songea. Our trips are part of "shadow," a week-long part of training where trainees life with current volunteers, experience life in a different village, and learn of the volunteer's ongoing work.
Merritt and I were a little surprised to be separated for this part of training, since, after all, we're going to be doing everything else together after this. But apparently the other married couple in our trainee couple was more than happy to have a week apart, and requested so. I guess they thought it was a good idea to break up both couples, rather than make a distinction between the two couples. That's the level of administrative forethought that we're growing accustomed to in the Peace Corps, which was further re-inforced after I was literally traveling as far away as possible for shadow, from Tanzania's far northeast corner to the very southwest region.
The bus ride down here, while a good opportunity to see the many landscapes of the country, was not just painfully long, but also harrowing - with the driver reaching speeds of 80 to 90 miles an hour, passing cars on blind curves and hills, and often carelessly drifting into the other lane. For thirteen hours we drove like this, long after the driver should have been tired, and well after our nerves were all shot. Personally, I've resolved to make long-trips a rare occurence once we get to site. And considering that we're living in one of the most beautiful parts of Tanzania, I see no reason why I can't stick to this resolution.
Still, I am selling the drive here short. After all, I got to see my first African wildlife when driving through Mikumi National Park, including elephants, buffalo, giraffes, antelope, zebra, and baboons. And the Great Ruaha River was a site, even at the height of the dry season. I have a good description of the landscape, but that will have to wait until another opportunity for email access - hopefully soon.
Much love to all family until then...
In a little over two weeks, after our swearing in at the embassy in Dar es Salaam on the 18th, Merritt and I will be off for the day-long drive to Mtwara, along a road that is known to be one of the roughest in the country, though it's apparently under construction. And once we arrive, we have a house awaiting us, rented by the NGO Merritt will be working for. We've been told it's pretty "safi," with a walled-in courtyard, and several bedrooms. What that all means, we'll have to wait and see. Regardless, we feel pretty lucky.
As for our current situation, Merritt and I are currently at different ends of the country, Merritt in the north, at a village just outside Ngorongoro National Park, and myself, way to the south, in the dusty town of Songea. Our trips are part of "shadow," a week-long part of training where trainees life with current volunteers, experience life in a different village, and learn of the volunteer's ongoing work.
Merritt and I were a little surprised to be separated for this part of training, since, after all, we're going to be doing everything else together after this. But apparently the other married couple in our trainee couple was more than happy to have a week apart, and requested so. I guess they thought it was a good idea to break up both couples, rather than make a distinction between the two couples. That's the level of administrative forethought that we're growing accustomed to in the Peace Corps, which was further re-inforced after I was literally traveling as far away as possible for shadow, from Tanzania's far northeast corner to the very southwest region.
The bus ride down here, while a good opportunity to see the many landscapes of the country, was not just painfully long, but also harrowing - with the driver reaching speeds of 80 to 90 miles an hour, passing cars on blind curves and hills, and often carelessly drifting into the other lane. For thirteen hours we drove like this, long after the driver should have been tired, and well after our nerves were all shot. Personally, I've resolved to make long-trips a rare occurence once we get to site. And considering that we're living in one of the most beautiful parts of Tanzania, I see no reason why I can't stick to this resolution.
Still, I am selling the drive here short. After all, I got to see my first African wildlife when driving through Mikumi National Park, including elephants, buffalo, giraffes, antelope, zebra, and baboons. And the Great Ruaha River was a site, even at the height of the dry season. I have a good description of the landscape, but that will have to wait until another opportunity for email access - hopefully soon.
Much love to all family until then...
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
A Month In - Possible Sites
After more than a month of anxious speculation, Merritt and I recently got some good news about a site and work assignments. After hearing some sketchy details when we first found out about our placement to Tanzania, on Monday we learned that Merritt will be working, as a Peace Corps volunteer, for a government organization that is co-funded by the U.S. CDC Global Health Department and the Tanzanian Ministry of Health – where she'll be teaching public health trainers and developing public health training programs, largely in the field of HIV/AIDS education. It all sounds very interesting, and I am really excited for her. Apparently it's a new cooperative venture for the Peace Corps Tanzania, and Merritt was specially requested to be sent here for the job.
It also means that we'll not have the typical Peace Corps experience, as we will be living in a town rather than some small village, with to our surprise, running water and electricity. The two possible towns are Mbeya and Mtwara, which are both in southern Tanzania, the first high up in the mountains (approx. 5,600’) and known to be the coldest spot in the country, and the latter on the coast, slightly smaller, and considerably hotter.
Mbeya has about 270,000 residents and is known as a key transportation and trading center, with the Tanzam Highway and Tanzara Railway running through the town, and located near Tanzania's boarders with Zambia and Malawi. Though described as a “bustling” and “scruffy” town, it's also apparently “highly scenic,” given its location in a gap between the Mbeya and Poroto Mountains. Coffee, tea, chocolate, and bananas are all grown in the region.
Mtwara, on the other hand, is located near the boarder with Mozambique, and is smaller in population (around 70,000). Apparently the town was originally a small fishing port, but the infrastructure was greatly expanded after World War II, by the British, as part of an effort to develop the local groundnut oil industry. Though the venture largely failed, the region has had somewhat of a recent revival, thanks to the tourism industry.
Merritt and I will be sent to one of these towns, another trainee, who worked as a nurse in the U.S., will be sent to the other. The decision will largely hinge, it seems, on what kind of job they can find for me. The Peace Corps’ Tanzanian Program is not really designed to work at the town-level, being almost exclusively based at the village level. And the Peace Corps country staff, when they learned that they were getting two special health trainees, did not actually know that one of them was married and would be accompanied by her husband. So it seems like that it has been somewhat of a scramble to find an assignment for me, but the good news is that I may also be working with an NGO and perhaps using my legal background to some degree.
One possibility, which I have expressed strong interest in, is working in Mtwara in the area of fisheries and marine resource management. There is a newly designated marine reserve just off the coast, the Mnazi Bay-Ruvumu Estuary Marine Park, which could be a good source for potential projects for me, but the director of the Peace Corps environmental program here in Tanzania needs to find a counterpart with whom I can work, so it still remains up in the air. Either way, Merritt feels it will work out well for us, and we’re both really excited about her assignment, and
hopeful about mine.
It also means that we'll not have the typical Peace Corps experience, as we will be living in a town rather than some small village, with to our surprise, running water and electricity. The two possible towns are Mbeya and Mtwara, which are both in southern Tanzania, the first high up in the mountains (approx. 5,600’) and known to be the coldest spot in the country, and the latter on the coast, slightly smaller, and considerably hotter.
Mbeya has about 270,000 residents and is known as a key transportation and trading center, with the Tanzam Highway and Tanzara Railway running through the town, and located near Tanzania's boarders with Zambia and Malawi. Though described as a “bustling” and “scruffy” town, it's also apparently “highly scenic,” given its location in a gap between the Mbeya and Poroto Mountains. Coffee, tea, chocolate, and bananas are all grown in the region.
Mtwara, on the other hand, is located near the boarder with Mozambique, and is smaller in population (around 70,000). Apparently the town was originally a small fishing port, but the infrastructure was greatly expanded after World War II, by the British, as part of an effort to develop the local groundnut oil industry. Though the venture largely failed, the region has had somewhat of a recent revival, thanks to the tourism industry.
Merritt and I will be sent to one of these towns, another trainee, who worked as a nurse in the U.S., will be sent to the other. The decision will largely hinge, it seems, on what kind of job they can find for me. The Peace Corps’ Tanzanian Program is not really designed to work at the town-level, being almost exclusively based at the village level. And the Peace Corps country staff, when they learned that they were getting two special health trainees, did not actually know that one of them was married and would be accompanied by her husband. So it seems like that it has been somewhat of a scramble to find an assignment for me, but the good news is that I may also be working with an NGO and perhaps using my legal background to some degree.
One possibility, which I have expressed strong interest in, is working in Mtwara in the area of fisheries and marine resource management. There is a newly designated marine reserve just off the coast, the Mnazi Bay-Ruvumu Estuary Marine Park, which could be a good source for potential projects for me, but the director of the Peace Corps environmental program here in Tanzania needs to find a counterpart with whom I can work, so it still remains up in the air. Either way, Merritt feels it will work out well for us, and we’re both really excited about her assignment, and
hopeful about mine.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Well, a month into training, and a month to go. Merritt and I are excited to learn where exactly we’ll be stationed for the next two years, and to finally get there. Training has been a challenge, with the intense language work, the administrative bureaucracy that exists even with the Peace Corps all the way here in Tanzania, and with adapting to a vastly different culture. Our host family is very kind and welcoming, but the differences nevertheless exist and we have tried hard to bridge the gulf between us. Not being able to really communicate is the most challenging and frustrating. While I am glad to have the home stay experience, I feel that it would be more valuable if I had learned more Kiswahili prior to arriving. My host “Baba” speaks decent English, though I hate to make him work hard, particularly after he’s worked a long day at his shamba(farm), but the conversations we have after dinner, in what I’ve come to call “Swanglish,” have been really enlightening – learning about the economics of orange farming here in the Tanga Region, marriage customs in Tanzania, the superstitions surrounding albinos, the history of the village, and his work as a sub-village elder. But if I could speak even passable Kiswahili, I could really learn a lot from this experience. Having essentially no language skills, beyond basic survival Kiswahili, means I can only hold the most basic of conversations before I am at the end of my abilities, even after a month of language classes. It’s not that hard a language to learn, grammatically speaking, but the vocabulary makes it like learning Chinese or Arabic – there are a few English-derived words, but other the rest is a syllabic “shagalabagala” – with the entire language seemingly based around the hundred or so possible consonant-vowel combinations. So learning vocab, which grammar aside,is the basis of any conversation, is a slow and challenging process.
But Merritt and I are slowly getting a grasp on the language, and feel, after some uncertainty, as though we will eventually be able to master the language, though it will probably take a year or so, if we work at it. We had our mid-training exams on Friday, and we both feel like we did reasonably well.
The best part about reaching the midway point of training is that it means we get to take a break this weekend, so I am writing this from the beautiful seaside resort of Mkoma Bay, just north of the small village of Pangani, which is about 55 kilometers south of the town of Tanga. Owned by a couple, one of whom happens to be a former Peace Corps volunteer and the other a Dutch ex-pat, Mkoma Bay is a mid-range resort with a dozen or so raised tents, a half dozen stone “bandanas” and one large house with three real bedrooms, but which can sleep many more. Forty of our Peace Corps training group, all except one loner, have rented the entire resort, with the help of the owner’s generosity (and what now seems their likely relief to have the business). With kayaks and bikes, and a bar and pool on a small cliff overlooking the Indian Ocean, the place seems a million miles from our “vijiji” (i.e., villages), and is a welcome relief from what has been a pretty intense first month of language and cultural training.
Our first night here, after arriving at sunset, our group quickly made there way down to the beach for a night swim in the Indian Ocean, my first time in its warm, salty waters. As the stars came out, I learned that the constellation I’ve been confused about for a month is actually the Southern Cross. After coming up from the beach, we found dinner waiting for us, on the deck next to the pool, where the stars looked even brighter.
While the resort’s bar is overpriced, they are kind of skimping on the food, and the internet is not anywhere close to what I’d hoped for, we’re a happy lot, and some of us our already dreading the idea of returning to our home stays.
But with a month of training left, one week of which will be spent on shadow, it seems like the end is insight, and soon we can have the kind of personal freedom that this weekend is really reminding us that we’re missing. Just getting to wake up with an entire unplanned day before me made me realize what’s been the most difficult part of
training.
But Merritt and I are slowly getting a grasp on the language, and feel, after some uncertainty, as though we will eventually be able to master the language, though it will probably take a year or so, if we work at it. We had our mid-training exams on Friday, and we both feel like we did reasonably well.
The best part about reaching the midway point of training is that it means we get to take a break this weekend, so I am writing this from the beautiful seaside resort of Mkoma Bay, just north of the small village of Pangani, which is about 55 kilometers south of the town of Tanga. Owned by a couple, one of whom happens to be a former Peace Corps volunteer and the other a Dutch ex-pat, Mkoma Bay is a mid-range resort with a dozen or so raised tents, a half dozen stone “bandanas” and one large house with three real bedrooms, but which can sleep many more. Forty of our Peace Corps training group, all except one loner, have rented the entire resort, with the help of the owner’s generosity (and what now seems their likely relief to have the business). With kayaks and bikes, and a bar and pool on a small cliff overlooking the Indian Ocean, the place seems a million miles from our “vijiji” (i.e., villages), and is a welcome relief from what has been a pretty intense first month of language and cultural training.
Our first night here, after arriving at sunset, our group quickly made there way down to the beach for a night swim in the Indian Ocean, my first time in its warm, salty waters. As the stars came out, I learned that the constellation I’ve been confused about for a month is actually the Southern Cross. After coming up from the beach, we found dinner waiting for us, on the deck next to the pool, where the stars looked even brighter.
While the resort’s bar is overpriced, they are kind of skimping on the food, and the internet is not anywhere close to what I’d hoped for, we’re a happy lot, and some of us our already dreading the idea of returning to our home stays.
But with a month of training left, one week of which will be spent on shadow, it seems like the end is insight, and soon we can have the kind of personal freedom that this weekend is really reminding us that we’re missing. Just getting to wake up with an entire unplanned day before me made me realize what’s been the most difficult part of
training.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
We have been living with our new host family for 4 days now and I have to say that life is sooooo much different than it used to be. I'm not even sure where I should begin!
I will walk you through the typical day...
We wake up when the rooster outside our bedroom window crows (around 5:30 am). The women in the house do all the work so our 'mama' is already up at this time sweeping the courtyard. I put my earplugs in and try to sleep for another 30 minutes. Right when I get up, I sweep our room and then its off the the 'Choo' to take a bucket bath. To walk to the choo I have to wear a Khanga, basically it is 2 pieces of cloth that look like 2 giant bandanas, one is tied around the waist and the other is worn over my shoulders. The women here wear these Khangas everywhere. The choo is right outside and basically it is a cement rectangular room that has a hole in the ground (where everyone goes to the bathroom) and then it has a little area to hang your khanga as you take a bucket bath.
Surprisingly I really like bucket baths... my 'mama' or 'dada'(swahili for sister) will bring me a big bucket of water that has a small pitcher in it, and basically you just take a shower, using the pitcher to drizzle the water over your head. Short hair definitely makes the bucket bath quick and easy. Moss takes his bucket bath after me and then we have 'Chai'/breakfast together before school.
The first two days we each got 5 pieces of white bunny bread covered in butter for breakfast...Not my favorite, but bread is considered a nice breakfast by Tanzanian standards, because it is a manufactured product that is not easy to come by as there are no ovens around here. This morning we each got a huge plate of pasta with one hardboiled egg on top. It was actually pretty tasty. Oh and I forgot to mention that we eat with our hands! No silverware for us! And even more tricky is the fact that you are only allowed to eat with your right hand...it's not an easy task! Cracking and peeling a hard boiled egg this morning with one hand was pretty funny.
The reason for this one hand craziness is that they reserve their left hand for the bathroom only...that's right...they don't have toilet paper so they use water and their hand when they go to the bathroom. So their left hand is basically off limits for everything else. Moss and I stocked up on T.P. so we haven't had to experience this part of the Tanzanian culture.
So, after chai/breakfast we walk to school - the first day our baba (kiswahili for father) walked us to school, and the next day our mama walked us to school. On the way to school we greet and talk to almost everyone we see. We are at school learning kiswahili from 8am to 4:00/4:30pm. Moss and I are in separate language classes, but we are still right next door to each other. We each have 4 other people in our class and then all ten of us have a chai break together at 10am and then a lunch break at 12:30. Durning Chai we are served chapati and fried bread, and then lunch is normally rice and beans. After school we all walk home together and an army of kids follow us everywhere. There is a group of about 30 kids following our every move... it's a funny site. Whenever we talk to them in kiswahili, they just laugh and laugh....
When Moss and I get home we either play soccer with our kakas(brothers) or cook with our mama and dadas (sisters). Our family has 7 kids, 3 girls and 4 boys whose ages range from 2 to 16. Their names are Mwanshamba, Fatuma, Mwanaidi, Jango, Afizi, Kasimu, and Yusuph. The kids here are so well behaved... it just amazes me. They have very little, yet they are incredibly happy, kind, and helpful.
Oh, I forgot to mention the fact that all the cooking takes place outside in an open tinshed on a small 'jiko' which is simply a circle of rocks that prop up the pot or pan with wood burning beneath it. It amazes me that our mama can cook so many different meals on rocks and wood.
After playing, cooking, or studying, we each take another bucket bath, and then its time for our dinner which is always an interesting experience. Our baba(father), Moss, and I all eat together at a small table in the front sitting room, while our 4 brothers sit on the floor next to us and eat off of one big communal plate. Sadly our 3 sisters and mama eat on the floor in a small bedroom. In the Islamic culture the men and the women do not eat together, but I guess since I am a guest they make an exception to this rule. I asked our baba if I could go eat with the girls and he said "kesho, baadaye" which means tomorrow or later/another day... but he has avoided the topic ever since I asked. It really amazes me how strong the gender roles are in Tanzania. The women work their butt off all day long to wait on and serve the men... I'm so glad I was born in America!
After dinner Moss and I head to our room to study and we are normally in bed by 10pm...
So that's a typical day for us here in Tanzania.... it's definitely different, but all and all things are going really well and I am loving this experience. I do miss you all. XOXOX
I will walk you through the typical day...
We wake up when the rooster outside our bedroom window crows (around 5:30 am). The women in the house do all the work so our 'mama' is already up at this time sweeping the courtyard. I put my earplugs in and try to sleep for another 30 minutes. Right when I get up, I sweep our room and then its off the the 'Choo' to take a bucket bath. To walk to the choo I have to wear a Khanga, basically it is 2 pieces of cloth that look like 2 giant bandanas, one is tied around the waist and the other is worn over my shoulders. The women here wear these Khangas everywhere. The choo is right outside and basically it is a cement rectangular room that has a hole in the ground (where everyone goes to the bathroom) and then it has a little area to hang your khanga as you take a bucket bath.
Surprisingly I really like bucket baths... my 'mama' or 'dada'(swahili for sister) will bring me a big bucket of water that has a small pitcher in it, and basically you just take a shower, using the pitcher to drizzle the water over your head. Short hair definitely makes the bucket bath quick and easy. Moss takes his bucket bath after me and then we have 'Chai'/breakfast together before school.
The first two days we each got 5 pieces of white bunny bread covered in butter for breakfast...Not my favorite, but bread is considered a nice breakfast by Tanzanian standards, because it is a manufactured product that is not easy to come by as there are no ovens around here. This morning we each got a huge plate of pasta with one hardboiled egg on top. It was actually pretty tasty. Oh and I forgot to mention that we eat with our hands! No silverware for us! And even more tricky is the fact that you are only allowed to eat with your right hand...it's not an easy task! Cracking and peeling a hard boiled egg this morning with one hand was pretty funny.
The reason for this one hand craziness is that they reserve their left hand for the bathroom only...that's right...they don't have toilet paper so they use water and their hand when they go to the bathroom. So their left hand is basically off limits for everything else. Moss and I stocked up on T.P. so we haven't had to experience this part of the Tanzanian culture.
So, after chai/breakfast we walk to school - the first day our baba (kiswahili for father) walked us to school, and the next day our mama walked us to school. On the way to school we greet and talk to almost everyone we see. We are at school learning kiswahili from 8am to 4:00/4:30pm. Moss and I are in separate language classes, but we are still right next door to each other. We each have 4 other people in our class and then all ten of us have a chai break together at 10am and then a lunch break at 12:30. Durning Chai we are served chapati and fried bread, and then lunch is normally rice and beans. After school we all walk home together and an army of kids follow us everywhere. There is a group of about 30 kids following our every move... it's a funny site. Whenever we talk to them in kiswahili, they just laugh and laugh....
When Moss and I get home we either play soccer with our kakas(brothers) or cook with our mama and dadas (sisters). Our family has 7 kids, 3 girls and 4 boys whose ages range from 2 to 16. Their names are Mwanshamba, Fatuma, Mwanaidi, Jango, Afizi, Kasimu, and Yusuph. The kids here are so well behaved... it just amazes me. They have very little, yet they are incredibly happy, kind, and helpful.
Oh, I forgot to mention the fact that all the cooking takes place outside in an open tinshed on a small 'jiko' which is simply a circle of rocks that prop up the pot or pan with wood burning beneath it. It amazes me that our mama can cook so many different meals on rocks and wood.
After playing, cooking, or studying, we each take another bucket bath, and then its time for our dinner which is always an interesting experience. Our baba(father), Moss, and I all eat together at a small table in the front sitting room, while our 4 brothers sit on the floor next to us and eat off of one big communal plate. Sadly our 3 sisters and mama eat on the floor in a small bedroom. In the Islamic culture the men and the women do not eat together, but I guess since I am a guest they make an exception to this rule. I asked our baba if I could go eat with the girls and he said "kesho, baadaye" which means tomorrow or later/another day... but he has avoided the topic ever since I asked. It really amazes me how strong the gender roles are in Tanzania. The women work their butt off all day long to wait on and serve the men... I'm so glad I was born in America!
After dinner Moss and I head to our room to study and we are normally in bed by 10pm...
So that's a typical day for us here in Tanzania.... it's definitely different, but all and all things are going really well and I am loving this experience. I do miss you all. XOXOX
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Morning Run
Fresh back from a morning run out to the neighboring town of Lina – about 3 miles one-way. Merritt and I have taken up running before sunrise with one of the other Peace Corps trainees, a woman our age from San Francisco named Dana. As an alternative to stumbling over the clay-packed, rutted trails in village, we have started to run out past the Ministry of Agricultural Training Institute (MATI), where the Peace Corps group classes are held once a week, taking a left at the split in the road, where the local Roman Catholic Church is located, and down into and up the other side of the valley that runs back towards the way we came.
On the ridge at the other side of the valley, the small town of Lina is comprised of a dozen or so buildings, and another half dozen in the process of being built. When we arrive in town, we’re hailed with “habari” by the villagers out sweeping around their house. From the little crest on which their village sits, one can see into the next valley, and out towards Muheza and Amani Nature Preserve, which encompasses a lone mountain ridge that represents the easterly extent of the Usambara Mountains, which are a part of Tanzanian’s Eastern Arc Mountains. Turning around,one can see east towards the flats that stretch out to the Indian Ocean. By the time we are coming back into Kijiji Mkanyageni, the sun is just coming up, marking the begin to another day in our life as transplant Tanzanians.
On the ridge at the other side of the valley, the small town of Lina is comprised of a dozen or so buildings, and another half dozen in the process of being built. When we arrive in town, we’re hailed with “habari” by the villagers out sweeping around their house. From the little crest on which their village sits, one can see into the next valley, and out towards Muheza and Amani Nature Preserve, which encompasses a lone mountain ridge that represents the easterly extent of the Usambara Mountains, which are a part of Tanzanian’s Eastern Arc Mountains. Turning around,one can see east towards the flats that stretch out to the Indian Ocean. By the time we are coming back into Kijiji Mkanyageni, the sun is just coming up, marking the begin to another day in our life as transplant Tanzanians.
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