It’s been a while since we’ve posted an entry on the blog, and for that we apologize, but it’s been a busy couple of weeks – Merritt’s been out of town for a week and a half conference in Dar, followed by week long seminar at COTC after her return. And for myself, in addition to my work at the marine park, I’ve spent a week painting the inside of the house while Merritt was away, along with continued house improvements (e.g., replacing old, dilapidated faucets; cleaning up and starting a small garden the backyard; building desks and tables for our kitchen and a makeshift office). There’s still plenty of work left but the place is starting to look and feel less like the old, dirty duka/baa (i.e., shop/bar) that it used to be, and a little more like home.
But other than such endeavors, life goes on here in Mtwara. Now that it’s October, were supposed to be entering the hot and rainy season, but except for a brief downpour one afternoon last week, I can’t detect any change in the weather. To hear news of the approaching fall in the States makes me miss the seasonality of the temperate zone. Even in extreme southern Tanzania, the amount of daylight might change by at most half an hour during the year, and the temperature seems likewise always well above 80 degrees, despite apparently peaking upward of 110 during the middle of the summer. While Tanzanians talk about the benefits of the predictability of such a climate, I have tried to convey the sense of time that seasons can impart on life. I guess coming from Vermont, it should be no surprise that come September and October, I miss fall.
Anyway, what I had really hoped to discuss in this entry was not recent travels or even the weather, but a more tangible part of life here, specifically the reality of living life as an outsider, a foreigner, or more appropriately here in Tanzania, as a “mzungu.” Just for a little clarification, a mzungu is, practically speaking, a white person. But the term doesn’t literally translate so directly – for example, “kizunguzungu” is an adjective for being dizzy, like if you were describing to a doctor that you’re suffering from dizzy spells.
Apparently, the term “mzungu” (or “wazungu,” for the plural) was derived from the concept of foreign white people having literally travelled around the world to come to Tanzania. The white people’s willingness to travel around and around the globe is a real mystery to Tanzanians who can’t fathom going so far away from home. While the country is quite large and the people have, in some cases in the past, been forcibly relocated by their government, few Tanzanians can hardly fathom life outside the district they call home, and in this respect, the mzungu term seems relatively innocuous. But when little kids shout the term at you as you ride by on your bike, or adults drop it on you in the middle of a conversation, like it’s a given, it’s a different story – not nearly as innocent, or as tolerable.
It should noted that I fully expected to be called a mzungu well before I ever stepped on the continent, but I didn’t foresee that it would bother me so much. Just imagine taking off at 7:20 in the morning for work on your bike, and hearing, as you push up the long, steady hill to town, kids shout from half a league away “Mzungu! Mzungu! Mmmmzzunguuu!!!”
The other night, walking to one of the near by dukas (i.e., shops), within only a couple of hundred meters of my house, a little kid in the path caught sight of me, and proudly proclaimed “Mzungu!” Finally having had enough, I walked right up to the kid, and told him, “Mimi si mzungu. Mimi ni Mmerikani!” (“I am not a mzungu. I am an American.”) The kid, taken aback by the comment, was speechless for a couple of seconds and then softly muttered, “Mzungu?” Frustrated by this response and aware the kid clearly didn’t understand my emphatic statement, I thought for a second about what to say next, and then slowly, and as calmly as I could, said, “Unasema ambaye mimi ni mzungu, lakini halafu wewe ni nini?” (“You say that I am a mzungu, but then what are you?”)
I wasn’t looking for any particular response, or even any response at all, and I could see that my comment had hit its mark. The kid didn’t know what to say, let along the answer to my question. And that was the point. I simply said to him, “Sawa. Je unaelewa sasa?” (“Ok. Do you now understand?”) He replied with “Sawa,” and I was satisfied, and continued on my way to buy my eggs and tomatoes.
It isn’t that I consider the “mzungu” label to be racist, and for many kids, the exclamation is solely one of excitement at seeing someone that they’ve only ever heard about. There’s no spite or animosity in the label, at least not most of the time. (For example, when a student completing research at the marine park asked me about the term, I explained to him that it couldn’t be compared with some of the epithets that African Americans have historically had to endure in the U.S.) But I strongly believe, and all the more so now, that such labels are wrong solely for the fact that they are labels. The reality is that people don’t want to be defined by some label, even if there’s nothing overtly wrong with the name. But yet, as humans, our natural disposition is to try to classify people – whether it’s by the color of their skin, the length and style of their hair, or the clothes they wear. It’s a behavior that we can only proactively prevent, by refusing to let ourselves try to simplify the world into neat little categories.
One interesting aspect of the “mzungu” thing is that one only rarely hears the term from adults. You know these kids are hearing and learning the term from someone, and every once and a while, they’ll throw it out there and act like it’s not a big deal. But like when the student at the marine park asked me whether I minded the term, the real answer for him was, if you have to ask, then you already know the answer. While I don’t know all the history of the country’s colonial period, I don’t think there’s much collective recollection among the people of Tanzania of the pain and suffering that distinctions based on race can produce.
Merritt, for example, had a co-worker, whom she had just spent the previous week getting to know during a health conference here in Mtwara, excitedly proclaim, as people gathered for photos on the last day of the conference, “Oh, let me get a picture with the mzungu!” Merritt, though she complied with the request and didn’t voice her frustration, was really offended, if for no other reason than this lady not only knew her name but knew her on a personal level. And I can’t blame Merritt for being upset about the incident.
For me personally, whereas previously when some kid has shouted “Mzungu!” at me, I’ve either simply ignored them, now my patience with the term is running a little thin. Undoubtedly it’s a battle I won’t be able to win, and I will likely always be chased with the term no matter where I go, what I do, or how long I stay in this country. But I’ve decided, at least for now, that I am not going to accept being called a mzungu. To simply ignore it, or pretend it’s acceptable is to give in to the term – to implicitly recognize the legitimacy of it.
At one point I debated whether I should try to turn the tables on people who use the term – to come back with something like “mzaliwa,” which means “native,” an expression you’ll often read used by white Europeans and Americans in old books on safari hunting in East Africa and Tanganyika. But as bothered as I am by the mzungu term, I can’t seem to throw around similar epithets. Not only would I personally be disgusted with myself, it seems more likely to anger people than to make them realize the error of their own ways. And that’s one of the funny things about such labels. We’re so quick to use them, but so offended when they’re applied to us. I guess it’s easy for ourselves to ignore the double-standard in such reactions.
Merritt and I have accepted a whole set of new struggles in our daily existence in volunteering for the Peace Corps here in Tanzania (from dealing with the bureaucracy of a federal agency, to the challenge of having to learn a new language, to the problem of securing enough reliable clean water). But neither of us foresaw that the feeling of being an outsider, a foreigner – someone to be stared and pointed at – would be the single hardest obstacle to assuming a normal life here in Tanzania. We continue to try to integrate – by learning the language and culture, dressing and acting appropriately, and telling people about the nature of our work here – but there seems to be a barrier arising out of our skin color that may ultimately prove insurmountable.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Kali II
I would like to follow up Merritt’s last entry to discuss one aspect of the whole Kali saga that she didn’t address. Though Kali was, by all appearances, “abandoned” when we found her, after spending the better part of a day and night balling in one of the empty dorm rooms on the COTC campus, two days after we adopted her, two cats who were unmistakably Kali’s parents showed back up, and upon hearing Kali cry in our room, while Merritt and I were at work, preceded to hang around everyday for hours on end, waiting for their kitten to be returned to them, yet still too afraid of humans to come into our room when the door was open and Kali was playing on the floor.
Of course, their return created a terrible quandary for Merritt and I, as we felt awful at the thought of stealing these cats’ baby, yet we couldn’t bring ourselves to return the kitten we ourselves had already fallen in love with. The sight of the parents hanging around elicited real guilt in me, and I badly wanted the parents to finally forget about ever recovering their baby.
When my guilt was ultimately relieved it was not by the parents finally forsaking their kitten, but rather by something that “Rabord” told us (pronounced like Robert, when spoken quickly), who is the accountant at COTC and was our neighbor during the time we were living at the school’s hostel. Rabord confirmed that Tanzanians generally don’t care for both cats and dogs as pets, and that cats were especially disliked by the students at COTC – to the point where the poor animals are sometimes poisoned. Knowing that I had rescued Kali from such an unfortunate fate allowed me to come to terms with our decision not to return her to her parents. Whatever nursing and care they might have been able to give her as a kitten, I cringe at the thought of the life she would have had there at COTC.
Recently Rabord told Merritt another interesting story that further confirms our decision to keep Kali. Apparently there is a witch doctor here in Mtwara who goes by the name of Dr. Nyeau Nyeau (the Tanzanian equivalent of Dr. Meow Meow; yes, animals apparently sound different in Kiswahili). He has been given his name because in addition to being partial to the taste of cat, he also often uses the animals, particularly kittens in his practice. He believes cats have special powers and so he’ll often require a patient to bring along a kitten when they come for their “healing,” whereupon he’ll sacrifice the kitten and use the blood for his patent medicines.
Ignoring for a second the grotesqueness of this story, it brings to mind the time my sister’s husband wore a shirt to one of our family reunions emblazoned with the simple statement, “Cat - The Other White Meat.” This was before he and my sister were married, and his choice of wardrobe prompted laughs from some and looks of utter disdain from others. As I recall the story, my little old grandmother, since passed on, was particularly upset about the shirt.
Who knows, maybe Dr. Nyeau Nyeau is just being practical in a country where pork is called “kiti moto,” since as the name literally suggests, it will put a Muslim on the “hot seat.”
Dr. Nyeau Nyeau also reminds me of a story we heard during Peace Corps training from one of our cross-cultural facilitators, whose brother is a real, legitimate doctor in the town of Tanga. The doctor confided to his brother that a woman had recently come into his office claiming to be pregnant and in the midst of child birth. Upon examining the woman, to the doctor’s great surprise, she promptly “gave birth” to two, still fresh chicken eggs. To confirm what the eggs manifestly appeared to be, the doctor cracked one open, to find a normal yoke and white, like any egg you would buy at the market.
One of the strangest aspects to the story, at least for me, was how many Tanzanians fully believed that the woman had really given birth to chicken eggs – rather than simply concluding, as Merritt and I have, that this crazy lady clearly put the two eggs up there, before waddling to the doctor’s office. The Tanzanians, including one of our language teachers, wholeheartedly believed in the witchcraft presumed in the story, and proudly told it to anyone who would listen.
My surprise at hearing them latch on to the sensationalism of the story was somewhat explained when, during a long bus ride back from Songea, I watched part of a Tanzanian movie featuring a scene in a doctor’s office, wherein the doctor explained, after examining the young girl (who later turned out to be bewitched), that she was “in perfectly normal health,” as far as the doctor could tell, who even checked to see if “air had gotten into her mother’s womb during pregnancy,” thus mentally handicapping the child. Apparently, Tanzanians have a fairly distorted perception of the “practice” of medicine.
Well, out of this crazy world, we have rescued Kali, who has enough of her own oddities to confirm her Tanzanian heritage. After two weeks, we’ve sufficiently spoiled her to the point where she’ll only eat fresh tuna (“jodari” in Kiwswahili), which thankfully is often available from our favorite fish monger, Azizi, at the small Magomeni market. After a dose of tuna, Kali turns into her namesake – fierce and unabiding, attacking any luggage or bag strap, foot or hand, electrical cord, that comes within her grasp. It’s like feeding her straight catnip – she loses her head. Any other food, even other types of fresh fish, she turns up her nose at and has to have gone hungry all day to be compelled to eat. We’ve definitely spoiled her, and my hopes of her one day being a prize cockroach killer are quickly evaporating.
Still, she’s a real joy to have – despite the lost sleep Merritt and I have had to endure and the worry she’s given us the few times she’s gotten sick or stopped eating. As Merritt said, all the Tanzanians think its a real hoot that we have adopted a kitten as a pet, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, regardless of how strange they may think us. Who knows what kind of difference we’ll make in the lives of any Tanzanians, but at least for one little, rambunctious kitten, we’re not just saviors, we’re now her parents.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Kali
Kali, which is pronounced like the type of dog (collie), means fierce or sharp in Kiswahili. Moss first heard this little kitten crying continuously when he walked passed one of the empty dorm rooms located next to the hostel we lived in last week. He went to see if she was still there about 4 hours later and sure enough she was sitting in the same spot crying away. He realized that the mother cat had abandoned her, so he tried to pick her up and she was fierce (hence the name). She wanted nothing to do with him at first, but that did not last long at all.
After we gave her some milk and held her for a little while, Moss proceeded to bathe her and pick every single flee off her body with tweezers. I couldn’t believe it. I swear he missed his calling as a vet. In fact when we were living in Mkanyageni, he also helped a baby chicken by picking it up and disinfecting a gross gash on its leg.
Anyway, after that first night Kali and Moss have been inseparable… it’s really cute. In my opinion she acts more like a puppy than a kitten- she follows our every step around the house, comes when you call her, likes to snuggle and doesn’t mind getting a bath. So Moss and I are in love with the new addition to our family, and the Tanzanians think it is sooo weird!
They would never dream of showing affection toward an animal. Mbwas (dogs) are strictly to act as guard dogs, and pakas (cats) are only around to kill the mice and rats. They think of all animals as dirty and cannot believe we hold our kitten and keep it inside. At lunch the other day I told a few people I work with that some Americans treat their dogs like humans…by letting their dogs sleep in the bed with them at night, by carrying them around during the day, and by hugging and kissing them. That really grossed everyone out!
Hakuna shida! No worries, it’s a simple fact that our culture views and treats animals differently. So for now we are happy to be the weird wazungo that have a baby paka living in the house.
Pictures of our Nyumbani
Our Nyumbani! On the other side of the papaya tree is a cute little cabana with a thatched roof, it's a popular place for all the watoto to hang out.
Our living room and dining room are attached with this little archway between them.
The three doors on the left are bedrooms or a possible office one day. Down the hall and to the right is our bedroom, and the door to the immediate right is the kitchen. We have been cooking in the living room though because the electricity does not work in the kitchen.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Our New Home
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
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
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...
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