Day 94
Psychosis may be developing
I’m quitting Larium. I figure my exposure to malarial parasites the first time I got malaria has given me some sort of immunity. Also, I heard the first time is always the roughest and subsequent infections are easier to handle. The side effects of the drugs are getting to be too much. It could very well be psychosomatic but I don’t want to wait around and find out.
Vivid Dreams:
The dreams are getting more vivid, absurd and repetitive. They remind me of Run Lola Run only they’re more cerebral and nonsensical. I’ve also noticed the voices in my dreams seem louder than usual. Like the volume is turned up to maximum when people talk, I could swear they are real voices.
Every so often they are gut-wrenching nightmares. I have run away from Janjaweed, set on fire and burned inside a straw hut during a village raid, and sought for dead by hostile Maji Maji. Sometimes I remember things but forget it was a dream and think it actually happened in real life. I’ve had moody days because of drama that unfolded, and grudgingly stalked around, angry with people who have made appearances and caused a ruckus. On occasion they are very unspeakably sexual… those days I wake up either giddy and energized, or frustrated…
Paranoia:
I’m beginning to develop an unreasonable fear of HIV/AIDS. I work on the front line with people who are seriously affected by it and seeing the worst cases has made me somewhat apprehensive of the disease and even frightened of the possibilities of contracting it somehow.
The other day I was working in the field in a really horribly shady part of town where people lived in very poor conditions and were suffering badly from infections. Something sharp got into my sandal, which I stepped on, and drew a tiny spot of blood under my foot. I panicked right away and broke down thinking perhaps there was a chance it might have infected me with HIV. I demanded to get tested right away even though I knew that on the slim to nil chance that I had contracted infection, it would not yet be detectible at this stage. I tested negative but still even now, am not the least bit reassured
Other episodes of paranoia:
I think the maid and the guard are doing it. Not that they’ve done anything to make me suspect so, I just have a feeling that they are. I also think the maid is stealing my underwear and I’ve began counting them to make sure they’re all accounted for. The old gardener creeps me out. He’s pretty innocuous and probably harmless but he still creeps me out for some reason.
Depression:
I get bouts of depression every now and then. Of course, who wouldn’t be depressed with the things I see everyday. But sometimes I can’t shirk the dismal feeling, and the depression takes its toll especially when I’m alone at night. Some days when I’m really down and talking to family and friends on the phone about what’s going on I don’t feel they actually understand how disheartening things are and how dejected I really am.
I don’t feel anyone could truly understand what I see unless they see for themselves. I’ve grown resentful of this and gloss over details and sometimes don’t bother sharing at all, afraid what I’ve seen or experienced will be devalued if it isn’t truly appreciated. I can relate with other cooperants experiencing the same things as me, but it isn’t often that I get to see them. I debrief with the friends I’ve made here, who I’ve grown close with, but in the end I still feel alone. At the end of the day, I cope by crying a lot by myself.
General Crazy-ness:
I’m convinced mosquitoes have magical powers, how else do they get into my net? Or has the net magically become permeable, engulfing mosquitoes and allowing it to feed on me? And when I mysteriously get new bites without even feeling it I begin to wonder if they just magically appeared on my skin.
The best one yet:
I’ve caught myself singing along to the Muslim prayer that wakes me up every morning at 5am. It’s not a melodious tune, and yet I find myself humming along like it’s any common jingle. Little do I know it’s probably blasphemous.
So I’m taking my chances and I’m done with Larium. I think I’d rather get malaria again then go crazy.
Day 95
Field work rolling in, Part II: Orphanages
We have been working out of select orphanages across the city doing needs assessments and developing work plans to submit for more grant proposals. Hopefully we will be granted some funds to improve the conditions of some of these facilities cause some places are in dire need.
The children for the most part are well cared for and happy. They are so innocent and hungry for love and attention. As soon as we walk through the gate the little munchkins run up to you to swarm you with hugs and greet you. They beam at you when all you do is pat them on the head or pay them the slightest bit of attention.
On Saturdays sometimes I go back and visit some of the centres to hang out with the children and play. The entertainment I provide has become Origami at every place I’ve visited. The children adore it and think it’s magic. I am now known as the Mchina girl who can turn paper into anything. (I wish that were true, I’d turn it into cash. Lots of it.)
I never cease to be amazed at how little it takes to make them happy it’s demoralizing. They genuinely cherish the folded paper boats and animals we create together with a unique fondness unlike the complacency of children back home who toss away their furbies, tickle-me elmo’s and gameboys as soon as it’s an hour out of date.
There are a few places we’ve visited that are not very well equipped to support the children in their care. They live in poor conditions that are downright filthy and disgusting, I’ll bet anything animal shelters back home are cleaner. In one particular place children were sleeping in doubles on bunk beds and you were considered lucky if you got a spot on the bunk bed at all. The rest huddle on dirty and worn out foam mattresses across a dusty floor.
Most places are small houses that started off by opening up to a few children who had nowhere else to go. Gradually more children were taken in under their care and eventually they register themselves as an orphanage. The most cared for in these small independent facilities are 30 children of which some grow old enough to help out with running the orphanage.
Most are able to send their kids to primary school. But not everyone makes it to secondary school because school fees are too high that facilities can’t afford to send all their children. I can’t even imagine how they begin to choose who gets to continue onto secondary school while the other kids are left behind. Some places are more industrious and find the roundabout way of doing things. They venture into practical trades and teach their children different skills like tailoring, dress making, wood working, basket weaving etc. and try selling their products at the market.
In the end, the children are still miles behind other children who grow up with families. They’re even more screwed over if they are HIV positive. Because it’s a known fact HIV positive children do not live long, caregivers are not willing to invest much into their education. Knowing they won’t live to make it to the end of secondary school anyway, and won’t likely live to be the next Nelson Mandela, it’s just not worth the little money already stretched out for essential resources.
I think this is the saddest part of all.
Day 96
Tanzanian Holidays
It’s a national holiday tomorrow so we’ve got the day off. It’s called “Nane nane” in Swahili which means “eight-eight” because it’s the 8th day of the 8th month. It’s supposed to be a ‘farmers day celebration’. I was given a very vague explanation as to what and how they celebrate. The soundest reason I got was that it is a holiday to give farmers a day to catch up on harvest before going to market. But sounds to me they picked the date out of a hat and choose to give themselves the day off.
Last month we also celebrated another national holiday “Saba Saba” which means “seven-seven” because it was the 7th day of the 7th month. I still have no idea what it was we celebrated and why… whatever, I’m going along with it if I’m given the day off. I’ll look out to see if there is a “Tisa-Tisa” next month (nine-nine)
Day 97
Nane Nane
I’m gonna do like the other Tanzanians today and take the day off. Happy Nane Nane!
Day 98
Rice ‘n Beans, Rice ‘n Beans, Rice ‘n Beans
Rice ‘n beans has been my staple everyday. I’m not a fan of ugali, chipate I find too heavy and potatoes made me sick the first time I had it here so try to avoid them. I’ve learned to eat very simply and rice ‘n beans isn’t too far off from what I eat at home where rice is also our staple.
Breakfast is usually cereal or toast with a bowl of fruit, sometimes I’ll boil an egg. If I’m working out of the office, lunch is the rice ‘n beans with spinach, peas and a bit of beef from a stew. If we’re working in the field I’ll pack myself a PBJ sandwich and try to vary it up; PBB (peanut butter & banana), PBA (peanut butter & avocado), PBC (peanut butter with cinnamon), and PBM (peanut butter & mango).
Dinner depends on what’s going on. I’m lazy and don’t cook so if I’m on my own I’ll just crack open a can of tuna and slice up some veggies to throw-in for a very basic salad. If I’m really really lazy, I’ll just eat the fruit I bought from the fruit stand, usually mango, pineapple or bananas, and either spoon peanut butter or scarf down a handful of ground nuts. If I’m not feeling too lazy I’ll use the blender to make fresh fruit smoothies. I add fruit, a cup of soy milk, a couple spoons of sugar to sweeten it up, and a cup of water to thin it out.
I’ve come up with every mixture imaginable I could probably start my own smoothie stand and drive Orange Julius out of business: Avocado-banana, mango-passion, pineapple-passion, papaya-mango, pineapple-mango, banana-mango, pineapple-jackfruit, jackfruit-papaya, coconut-papaya, coconut-banana… I welcome other suggestions!
If I’m having a meal at a friends place, it’s usually rice & beans again. If my other Canadian friends are in town we vary it up and take a break from the usual rice ‘n beans we eat on a daily basis. We venture to different restaurants in town and each night is a different cuisine ranging from Ethiopian, Somalian, Indian, Thailand, Italian, and Chinese. These restaurants cater mostly to foreigners and tourists because locals don’t really care for such foods. When it comes to food, Tanzanians are not very receptive to trying new things and very reluctant to venture outside their selection of foods.
A friend of mine said he had never had pasta before so I tried surprising him one night and cooked him a fancy pasta dish. He didn’t seem very impressed and wasn’t at all excited to try it. He would’ve rather had rice ‘n beans. Similarly I tried inviting a group of friends from work one weekend to go out for Thai food, I knew they had never tried it and I was craving a good pad thai. They suggested a ‘better’ place to eat and we ended up at a local eatery eating ugali and roasted goat.
Even during special occasions, gatherings and celebration parties, the food served is the same as what they would eat any other day at home –roasted goat, roasted chicken, roasted beef, chipate, rice, pea soup, greens, but nothing special or atypical.
Bring it on
For me, I’ve learned to let go of all my inhibitions when it comes to food and will eat almost anything. Almost anything. I don’t think finicky eaters can survive nor can they afford to be choosey cause food is part of the whole experience. I try everything at least once and it’s definitely an integral part of the adventure of living abroad -trying peculiar foods you’ve never seen, heard of, or can’t pronounce properly. I’ve had entrails of goat and pork, boiled cow mandible soup, boiled cow tongue, cow brain, (Tanzanians, especially Maasai tribes really love their cow), chicken gizzards and other insides, bull testicles (which wasn’t very pleasant but at least I can say I’ve had it once and lived to tell), and crunchy locusts, among the weird exotic African dishes.
I’m always game to try new things so whatever it is, bring it on.
Day 99
How time flies
Tomorrow I’ll celebrate my 100th day here. The days here vary just like anywhere else. Some days are incredibly long, and others too short. But overall time really does fly when you’re inundated with so much at once.
265 to go.
Day 100
Dar Annual Charity Goat Races
My fellow Canadians also living here organized an outing to attend the Dar es Salaam Annual Charity Goat Races. It was held at an outdoor field that had been turned into a fair ground. It was organized by Europeans in Dar and benefited a select number of organizations around the city including one of our partner orphanages, Friends of Tanzania.
The place must have been flooded with what seemed like the total ‘Mzungu’ population of Dar es Salaam. These included the entire fleet of high commission workers, expats, ambassadors, diplomats, financiers, and other foreign interest workers in Dar. It wasn’t until today that I took real measure of how big that gap we always talk about between rich and poor, really is.
To begin the parking lot was flooded with cars whose total worth could easily wipe out the debt of a couple African countries. Snooty children roamed around while their nannies chased after them to reapply sunscreen, which they pulled out of designer diaper bags. Trophy housewives showed off their latest frock, and stuck out their necks out to show-off rare gems strung across, that probably kept the Janjaweed well stocked with arms for village raids.
Meanwhile, their wealthy financier husbands huddled in clusters swigging imported beer, probably discussing how else they can monopolize more of other country’s resources and make lucrative deals with locals who are willing to sell-out. They pulled business cards out of engraved, silver plated business card holders to write down additional details with their Omega fountain pens they extracted from their starched original Lacoste polo then offered it to their colleague with their outstretched hand bearing platinum Rolex watches.
It was just like the snobby rich characters out of the movies who live extravagantly in Africa, attend big parties and mingle with other aristocratic socialites… totally disconcerting.
I’ve gone off on a tangent.. where was I.. oh yea the Charity Goat Race.. so basically it was a bunch of rich, predominantly white people standing around, placing bets on goats, watching them race while getting plastered. The goats weren’t actually racing, but ushered around a ring, but on occasion they’d get excited and charge ahead of the others.
When it came to placing bets the stakes were driven high by the upper echelon bourgeois folks who wagered big bucks. Since it was going to charity it didn’t count as squandering though this was no doubt an event for the nobles. Winners also had the option of either purchasing the goat or donating it to their charity of choice, which they all did.
It was quite lively and there were lots of other things to see and do on the fair grounds. People tried their hand at the pottery stand where for a small fee you were taught how to make clay pots yourself and got to keep it afterward. Artisans set up shop with lots of cool art pieces and artefacts, and lots of demonstrations of tribal rituals performed for entertainment.
Go Pussy!
The highlight of the day was the victory of “Pussy”. We had long lost interest in the races when suddenly there was a blast from the loud speakers that compelled us to rejoin the rest of the spectators. The commentators perked out attention with their choice of words commentating on Pussy, the winning goat:
“And look there she goes, creeping up on the others, Pussy’s in the lead, would you look at Pussy go, isn’t she a beauty, what lustrous fur, she’s picking up speed, she’s coming, she’s coming, she’s coming! And we have a winner folks! Congratulations Pussy and would Pussy’s winning bid please step up and collect your Pussy!”
I had run out of battery on my camera, but man that would’ve been an awesome video, just the audio alone would’ve been priceless.
Day 101
I’m a heretic
Halima woke me up when she called bright and early in the morning to invite me to attend church with her. It was 7am! Isn’t Sunday supposed to be a day of rest!? I politely declined then went back to sleep. I met her later in the day for lunch and thus began her revelation of me.
“What church do you attend”, she asked me? “No church”, I answered. Perplexed, she asked “Why not? Don’t you believe in God?” “Possibly” I answered, “So why don’t you go to church?” she asked again.
Oh dear, I thought... Religion and philosophy are weighty subjects I don’t have enough Swahili for; I had to dig deep.
So I began the impossible task of explaining my a-religiousness. I started off, “Sure I believe in the possibility of God, angels, saints.. but I just choose not to make a practice of it”. She gave me a blank stare, and it wasn’t because my Swahili was wrong.
I tried again, “Well, no one really knows if he exists or not so why waste my time believing in something I’m not really sure exists?” Another blank stare, still, she didn’t get me.
I wasn’t about to give up, I was determined to make her understand but I didn’t have enough vocabulary to express it and hoped the words I handpicked would help her at least understand the general essence of what I was trying to get at.
I thought, perhaps I should go further back and give her some history. “I went to church when I was a child and attended Sunday school every week. But we were taught not to question anything, and that by questioning we are displaying a form of ‘unbelief’. That to question is to doubt his existence. I couldn’t be bound by this and blindly accept everything I’m told, so when I was old enough, I decided not to continue.”
“Why would you do that?” she asked, her eyes widened in dismay.
At this point I could feel my head tightening from the strain for words to explain where I was coming from. I wanted to tell her, as I got older I explored other trains of thought and philosophies. That I learned about different faiths out there besides Christianity, I attended debates on accident vs. intelligent design and lectures on mathematical proof for the existence of God, and after learning and discovering all sorts of interesting ideas and concepts, I decided when it comes to God, I prefer to neither believe nor disbelieve. I prefer to dangle in possibilities where there are no absolutes and I can question freely without any constraints of a right and wrong, good or bad, black or white. I felt that that religion in some ways, particularly evangelical Christianity, hinders this.
But in the end I realized even if I had been able to explain all this, it wouldn’t have mattered. Her incredulity wasn’t due to my limitation of the language, but because of her strong and devout belief that everyone should believe in God and attend church, no questions asked. Otherwise you’re a lost person, a heretic, a person with no destination, and you will surely burn in hell. Especially because I had once been part of a church and left, made it much worse for me.
So instead I shrugged my shoulders in surrender to what I knew she was thinking -I’m a heretic. She sadly shook her head at me and I couldn’t help laughing. I can just imagine her tonight, praying for God to save my soul.
Out of Africa
The ‘Out of Africa’ theory holds no weight here. I was rather disappointed that Africans themselves, who are living in the very place where it all began, where humanity was born, where we began to walk upright, don’t embrace the wonders of evolution and Africa’s famous role in it.
One of the many things that interested me in coming to Tanzania were the famous anthropological sites including the Rift Valley and Olduvai Jorge. Before I got here, these were unreachable places I had only read about in paeleoarchaeology textbooks. This may sound nerdy but now that I’m here I continue to be amazed that I’m walking the ground on the oldest land, where australopithecines might have inhabited a few million years ago, the birthplace of Lucy, where the Leaky family poked around.
What’s disappointing is that Tanzanians themselves don’t appreciate what this means. Long after their emancipation from slavery and years of oppression, they continue to wholly accept the religion that white men imposed upon them and so creationism supersedes evolution. Missionaries did a mighty fine job programming their faith, and instilled so much fear in them that now to do otherwise and go back to their pagan routes would be a disgrace.
I’ll still take carbon dating over blind faith.
Day 102
Foods I miss
Non-tropical fruits like strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, apples, pears, peaches, apricots and plums
Non-African vegetables like asparagus, broccoli, & cauliflower
Japanese sushi and tempura
Chinese dimsum
Filipino chicken adobo
My grandma’s spring rolls
Vietnamese pho
Gelato
Tim Hortins ice caps
Bubble tea
Waffles and Crepes
Future’s Bakery cakes
My mouth is watering…
Day 103
Office politics
I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with office politics here, but apparently it’s everywhere you go no matter where you are in the world.
There have been petty, personal issues that have affected the work environment. Moses, a programme officer and Neema, one of the admin secretaries started dating not long after I arrived in the country. They were in their own romantic dream world for the first month but it didn’t last and they just recently broke up. It’s caused a lot of tension in our already small, confined and close-nit office. We’ve all tried to remain neutral with them both, but Neema has made clear that you’re either on her side, or his. They go out of their way to ignore each other it’s silly the lengths they go through just to avoid saying hello.
It’s a good thing we’ll be doing more fieldwork, which will take us away from the office so we can avoid the awkwardness.
Day 104
Ahhhh, kids
On my way home from work today there was a cluster of children about 6 or 7 years old. They had had just been let out of school and were walking ahead of me.
Child 1: Looks behind, sees me, then nudges the rest of the kids loudly whispering, “Look! There’s an Mchina walking behind us!”
Child 2: Conspicuously also looks back and exclaims, “Oh yeah, it’s an Mchina!”
Child 3: “Let’s say hi to her!”
Child 4: “How do you say hi in Chinese?”
Child 5: “Just say ‘good morning!’” [it was 4 o clock in the afternoon]
Child 2: “What if she gets angry, Mchina’s know how to fight, I’ve seen it on television!”
Child 3: “Stupid! Only Mchina men know how to fight, that’s only a girl, she won’t know!” [I think to myself, only a girl, huh.]
Child 1: “If you’re not afraid than you say hi!”
Child 4: “Ok, let’s say hi together!”
Children 1,2,3,4,5 in unison: “Mchina! Hi, good morning, how are you?” [in English]
I’m laughing by now, I smile at them, wave, then answer back in Swahili:
“First of all it’s afternoon, not morning, you should have said ‘good afternoon’, and second, why do you kids think only Mchina men know how to fight? Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”
They stare at me for a second and all begin giggling hysterically while covering their mouths then run off ahead of me and turn the corner.
Day 105
We’ve got furniture!
Up until today the house I’m living in had no furniture other than the beds in our rooms. Hoyce, the girl I’m living with is never around and always travelling and didn’t have time to furnish the place so I was always left in a very sterile home.
I couldn’t invite friends over cause there was no place for them to sit. The living area was completely empty your voice echoed and bounced off walls. I would eat my meals over the kitchen sink, and when Hoyce wasn’t home and I was bored at night, I would do cartwheels across the bare floor back and forth.
Today we got a shipment of furniture and the place feels like a home now! We got couches and chairs, end tables and a coffee table for the living room, a dining room set and even area carpets! I’ve never been so excited over furniture before!
Day 106
Overheard in Dar
I secretly listen in on other people’s conversations to see how much I can understand. Not cause I care to know what they’re talking about, I just use it as a tool to test my comprehension of discussions that may not be as simple as “hello, how are you”. Though I have to admit sometimes it’s rather entertaining but other times I’m taken back when the conversation is crass and uncouth. For eg.
Conversation between two guys in their early to mid 20s on the bus:
Guy 1: “Bwana (the equivalent of ‘dude’ in Swahili), I was bargaining with her and I said her price was too expensive. I told her I won’t be any longer than 10 minutes, so I shouldn’t have to pay that much for only 10 minutes!”
Guy 2: “If I had gone with you we could have bargained for her to take us both to save on time so she can get more business”
Conversation between an older lady and younger guy at market:
Guy: “Shikamoo Mama (greeting to elderly person in Swahili), how have you been, haven’t seen you in a long time”
Old Lady: “Yea, yea, just tell me, anything yet?”
Guy: “Mama, we just got married 2 months ago!”
Old Lady: “I knew it, you need to control your wife! She needs to learn to keep her mouth shut and legs open”
Day 107
African Weddings: Send-Off
There are three different celebrations for weddings here in Tanzania. The first is the Kitchen Party where only women attend to advise the bride-to-be on the ins and outs of marriage. The second is a traditional ceremonial event called the Send-Off where you ‘send’ the bride off to her husband. Back in the old days, it used to be a literal send-off. It was during this ceremony that the bride would ceremoniously leave her tribe to go live with her husband and his family and enter his.
Marrying within or outside your tribe has its set of pros and cons. In the old days women were preserved for prospective suitors from outside tribes who held status and it was a rather lucrative arrangement that would help improve trade relations and gain allies. On the other hand, marrying someone from within will help strengthen your bloodline and you don’t have to leave your tribe for another.
Traditionally the send-off would also be the event to solidify the marriage, and thereafter you would be considered married at this point. However influences from missionaries have made people adopt the traditions of the west. Not long after colonization, women began to have typical church weddings, walked down the isle in white, and held grand receptions in banquet halls afterwards. This formed the third and final wedding event.
Screw send-offs
I was invited to Hoyce’s send-off, which was my 2nd send-off, and 5th wedding event. She is getting married to a Zambian. Now that I understand more Swahili than when I attended my first send-off, I was able to follow the ceremony. Though it was interesting to learn more about Tanzanian culture, I had major beef with it.
They were telling her, “you are no longer part of the Chaga tribe, and you are no longer a Tanzanian, you are now a Zambian, and part of your husband’s tribe. Say farewell to your tribe, and go be with your new tribe. Go help multiply your husbands tribe as your children will be descendants of his tribe.”
It was like they were doing her a favour, liberating her of her own identity as an independent woman, and christening her into her husband’s tribe she was to adopt as her own. I couldn’t stop myself from scoffing and snorting at the things that were being said throughout the ceremony. Baraka, who was my date that night, had to jab me in the ribs a few times to get me to shut up.
I know they’re a patriarchal society but sheesh, get with the 21st century! Why were they booting her out of her own tribe? Who are they to tell her she can no longer be part of her tribe? It’s like if I get with a Vietnamese dude and I’m told I am no longer Filipino or Chinese, that I have to leave it behind to join my partner and become a Vietnamese. That’s a load of crap.
We’re equals now, why can’t the man leave his tribe? Why can’t the woman still be considered from her original tribe she was born unto? She grew up living and breathing her tribe, their different cultural values, beliefs and practices, just to leave it all behind once she marries? And what about the children? What if she wants to impart some of her roots to her children? Are they not descendants of her tribe too? Why should they automatically be considered offspring of only their father’s tribe?
The ceremony got me worked up I was highly offended when Baraka jokingly said “If you keep up this insolent behaviour, no man or tribe will want you period.” I wasn’t amused. Whatever, if that’s the case I don’t want to belong to any tribe, I’ll start my own damn tribe.
Day 108
Worst place to have a mosquito bite:
I think I’ve got authority on this, I’ve gotten them nearly everywhere and it’s the very bottom of the foot right where the sole is. It itches but it tickles to scratch it!!!
Arrrrrrgh…..
Day 109
Are you Chinese, Japanese?
I’m reminded of the King of the Hill episode where Dale asks the Asian newcomers “are you Chinese or Japanese?”
“I am Laotion!” Khan responds,
“Is that Chinese or Japanese?” …….
It’s not uncommon here that I get the typical mocking sing-song “Chinese, Japanese” or ‘hee-haw’ noises from people I pass on the streets. Young children push the corners of their eyes up and down, as to make ‘chinky-eyes’ at me and young boys mimic kung-fu and “haaya!” at me. I understand that most people here are not very exposed and worldly, plus I do tend to stick out when I’m in communities where it’s rare for foreigners to pass through. That’s why I’m usually tolerant of it and respond without offence to “Mchina”.
However, for this same reason it’s a shame that in Canada where we boast a higher level of education, where every child attends school, and by grade 2 everyone should be conversant of the world map, I still encounter these type of racist gestures back home. Until now, I hadn’t stopped to think how disappointing it is.
I remember during the ’06 World Cup the night England won a match, Anthony and I were sitting in a coffee shop minding our own business when a group of meathead guys celebrating in their car, were stopped at a red light in front of us. Through the window, they began making the ‘chinky eyes’ motions at us while mouthing “Chinese, Japanese”.
Granted they might’ve been drunk but nonetheless, Anthony and I both looked at each other and thought the same thing, we haven’t had that done to us since grade school. Anthony was less tolerant than I was and if I weren’t there he would’ve probably charged at them. Part of me doesn’t blame him; they were too old to still be doing those things.
Another similar incident happened when I was with my sister, Sarah. If you know Sarah, you know she’s got quite the mouth on her, and won’t hold back to put you in your place when you deserve it. We were strolling through Ikea when a couple of school-aged kids did the same thing. What made it particularly unsettling was that their parents were not the least bit reproachful and laughing loudly, practically egging them on.
We gave them a chance and tried ignoring it for a while but they kept it up so finally she responded by loudly berating them in front of everyone within earshot:
“Excuse me but do your children attend school? Cause if they’ve ever studied the world map they would know by now that China and Japan are not the only countries in Asia. It’s pretty pathetic if that’s all they know. I recommend you teach your children some geography cause it looks like they have a lot of catching up to do to the more intelligent ‘Chinese/Japanese’ kids their age.”
The parents stood there embarrassed for a second before ushering their children down the isle.
Messing with People
When “I’m Filipino-part Chinese-born in Canada”, becomes too daunting to explain each time I’m asked if I’m one of either “Chinese or Japanese”, I have fun messing with people and pretend to be from other places it raises eyebrows. It’s rather funny seeing their reactions especially when it’s a country they’ve never heard of and they take my word for it.
I started off with Asia and worked my south and gave different answers each time: I’m Laotion/ Burmese/Thai/Vietnamese/Cambodian/Malaysian/Indonesian. It’s almost like a survey of sorts cause I’ve learned out of these countries people are most familiar with Vietnam and offer a tsk-tsk with a ‘pole sana’ (sorry), cause of the war.
I ventured to the outskirts of the orient and passed myself off as a Mongolian and Nepalese, then hopped over to the Middle East to see how convincing I was from the “Stan’s”, then Persia. Mongolia was the funniest reaction cause for some reason people couldn’t fathom I was from such a place called ‘Mongolia’ and laughed.
When it came to ‘Stan’s’ other than Afghanistan, I would get the similar King of the Hill response:
“I’m from Kazakhstan”
“Where did you say? Afghanistan?”
When I got bored of Asia I tried out Latin America and worked my way south. People were blown away to finally meet a Mexican! Forget Central America, no one was aware any of those countries existed. In South America I had luck with only Argentina and Brazil thanks to the World Cup. Otherwise, you can forget the rest of S. America, people don’t have a clue those are real countries you’re naming.
It’s actually pretty fun pretending and re-inventing yourself. I could even try to pretend I’m royalty and maybe people will believe me. Everyone should try it sometime.
Day 110
Itching to bang
I’m aching to touch a piano right now. I didn’t think I’d miss it this much but I do. When I’m feeling low it’s my therapy. Now instead I’ve found solace in writing. Though I’m not much of a writer, I’ve found it’s really quite therapeutic releasing my thoughts and clearing my mind at the end of each day.
Day 111
Got nothing tonight, I’m turning in early
Usiku mwema
Day 112
I’ve been neglecting myself
My iron’s low. Before anyone asks, yes, I hold a degree in human nutrition. Yes, I work in community health, yes it’s my job to implement health and nutrition programs, and yes I’m good at what I do, I really am. But I’m only human. I’ve been on the go the past month and I guess from travelling out in the field everyday and going out every weekend, it really does a number on you.
Bring on the leafy greens and red meat.
Day 113
I’m so tired.
Days like today make me feel like it’s me against the world. I don’t know if we’re gonna make it anymore. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make but these days I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up.
Maybe I’ll just stay here and get an African tribe to adopt me. I’ve already gotten all sorts of offers -herds of cows, goats, and sugar cane plantations. That’s one hefty bride price very few African girls are offered.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
DAYS 87 – 93
IN ARUSHA FROM DAYS 87 – 93
I didn’t bother bringing my computer with me and knew I wasn’t going to write everyday anyway. But here are the major highlights of the trip.
Ascent to Arusha
We scored an invite to a UNAIDS training seminar, so I got to travel to Arusha and visit my fellow Canucks at the same time. Arusha is about a 10 hour drive, north from Dar es Salaam, and 2 hour flight. My travel and accommodations were paid for courtesy of CIDA (so thanks for paying your taxes).
We flew from Dar to Kilimanjaro on a tiny plane with dinky propellers engines that sat no more than 20 people. I’m not usually afraid of flying but this time was terrified and the 2 hours felt like an eternity. When we arrived at Kilimanjaro Airport in one piece and had to take a shuttle bus to Arusha’s city centre, which was another 45 minutes away. We had left Dar at 6pm and by the time we checked into our hotel rooms it was about 10pm.
The tight budget put us up in a modest but decent bed and breakfast, but what made it amazing was that there was hot water available!! I showered in steaming hot water for the first time in ages and it was marvellous. After my pores were revitalized from the steam, I slept like a baby.
City of Arusha, Africa’s Geneva
Bill Clinton exclaimed during his first visit, Arusha is truly the Geneva of Africa. I couldn’t agree more; it felt like I had stepped into Europe. It is a small but very busy city, and smaller in both size and population compared to Dar.
Its European feel is largely due to the multitude of foreigners you see every direction you turn, including tourists and UN workers. But even the architecture of the buildings gives it a slight Western atmosphere. Original buildings that were erected since colonialism still stand and you can see influences from both the British and Germans who were trying to out-do each other.
I’ve learned to tell the difference between the two. German structures are large, spread out, but simple and rustic, whereas British were tall, and included more elaborate detail and intricate designs. The other unmistakable European flair are the absence of traffic lights and instead, roundabouts.
Being right at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro, Arusha gets pretty cold. I didn’t believe anyone when they told me it would be cold, and thought bring it on, I’ve lived through Canadian arctic winters. Turns out they were right and I did feel pretty cold and ended up buying a jacket like a sucker. Perhaps I’m growing sensitive to cold. At night it dropped down to as low as 10 Celsius.
This month is peak season for vacations. Tourists flock from all over the world to experience Safari, visit national parks, and other natural sites Arusha has to offer including the Serengetti, Olduvai Jorge, Ngorongoro crater, Rift Valley even tackle the highest peak in Africa.
Walking the streets of Arusha, I blended right in with the diverse crowd of tourists and foreigners, and began to feel anonymous again.
United Nations Tribunal for Rwanda (ICC Buildling)
(We were not allowed to take pictures of the UN building. There was a huge sign with a camera crossed-out prohibiting photographs)
It is the only building of its kind in all of Africa. It stands on a hill behind large gates guarded by uniformed men
carrying rifles. It is a wide, shiny, glass building, modern in design with meticulously manicured grounds. Very official looking bureaucrats climb into SUV’s with flags of blue flapping in the wind, bearing the official seal. “UN” is printed in bold black letters on the doors and hood of the car.
Arusha was chosen as the location for the tribunal in 1993. It is the very place where the trials from the Rwandan genocide were held and you can’t help but wonder what testimonies were given inside and the fate of each war criminal that had been convicted inside. Now it is used for conferences and other delegate meetings. Just recently, the meetings to deploy troops in Darfur were held there.
Clock Tower
The famous clock tower of Arusha is apparently a big deal but you wouldn’t think it to look at it. It’s a dinky little thing that is about the size of a miniature lighthouse, certainly no Big Ben. Unless you read about it somewhere you wouldn’t know of its significance, and passing by it you wouldn’t even care to find out.
The clock tower marks the true centre point between Johannesburg and Cairo on the continent, and was used for colonial powers when they were mapping out trade routes. It served as their mid-point across Africa and gave them the range of travel from the most North to South. I thought that was pretty cool.
Now a days it’s just a roundabout but still well maintained. But of course leave it to Coca cola to plaster a hideous sign on it, denigrating it to a cheap commercial advertisement. I guess that’s globalization at its finest.
Canucks reunite again!
Hung out with the Arusha crew during the evenings, and spent a few extra nights at the girl’s house. The three of them are sharing a large house downtown that they got to furnish themselves. At my place the only furniture we have are the beds in our rooms. So it was nice to sit on a couch and relax for a change. They got a guard dog they named Simba, but doesn’t really do a good job of guarding cause he’ll go right up to you and lick you. But people here are very afraid of dogs and their bark alone is enough to scare some people off.
They took me out to the popular local hangouts in the city centre, but I have to say it doesn’t measure up to the nightlife in Dar. Arusha is a cute town I’d want to retreat to for short visits, but if I had to choose where to be stationed, it would still be Dar, despite the extreme heat.
Needless to say we partied hard, poured our hearts out about all the challenges we’ve encountered, shared heart-wrenching stories from the field, told funny tails about our placements to lighten the mood, then gushed over the cute diplomats we met over the past week. Turns out we all had our eye on a tall ruggedly handsome Swedish dude.
By the end of the week I had a good taste of most of the city of Arusha and was ready to go back home to Dar. We’ll be visiting each other throughout the year, and I plan to visit the national parks and do Safari in December so there is much more to see.
I didn’t bother bringing my computer with me and knew I wasn’t going to write everyday anyway. But here are the major highlights of the trip.
Ascent to Arusha
We scored an invite to a UNAIDS training seminar, so I got to travel to Arusha and visit my fellow Canucks at the same time. Arusha is about a 10 hour drive, north from Dar es Salaam, and 2 hour flight. My travel and accommodations were paid for courtesy of CIDA (so thanks for paying your taxes).
We flew from Dar to Kilimanjaro on a tiny plane with dinky propellers engines that sat no more than 20 people. I’m not usually afraid of flying but this time was terrified and the 2 hours felt like an eternity. When we arrived at Kilimanjaro Airport in one piece and had to take a shuttle bus to Arusha’s city centre, which was another 45 minutes away. We had left Dar at 6pm and by the time we checked into our hotel rooms it was about 10pm.
The tight budget put us up in a modest but decent bed and breakfast, but what made it amazing was that there was hot water available!! I showered in steaming hot water for the first time in ages and it was marvellous. After my pores were revitalized from the steam, I slept like a baby.
City of Arusha, Africa’s Geneva
Bill Clinton exclaimed during his first visit, Arusha is truly the Geneva of Africa. I couldn’t agree more; it felt like I had stepped into Europe. It is a small but very busy city, and smaller in both size and population compared to Dar.
Its European feel is largely due to the multitude of foreigners you see every direction you turn, including tourists and UN workers. But even the architecture of the buildings gives it a slight Western atmosphere. Original buildings that were erected since colonialism still stand and you can see influences from both the British and Germans who were trying to out-do each other.
I’ve learned to tell the difference between the two. German structures are large, spread out, but simple and rustic, whereas British were tall, and included more elaborate detail and intricate designs. The other unmistakable European flair are the absence of traffic lights and instead, roundabouts.
Being right at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro, Arusha gets pretty cold. I didn’t believe anyone when they told me it would be cold, and thought bring it on, I’ve lived through Canadian arctic winters. Turns out they were right and I did feel pretty cold and ended up buying a jacket like a sucker. Perhaps I’m growing sensitive to cold. At night it dropped down to as low as 10 Celsius.
This month is peak season for vacations. Tourists flock from all over the world to experience Safari, visit national parks, and other natural sites Arusha has to offer including the Serengetti, Olduvai Jorge, Ngorongoro crater, Rift Valley even tackle the highest peak in Africa.
Walking the streets of Arusha, I blended right in with the diverse crowd of tourists and foreigners, and began to feel anonymous again.
United Nations Tribunal for Rwanda (ICC Buildling)
(We were not allowed to take pictures of the UN building. There was a huge sign with a camera crossed-out prohibiting photographs)
It is the only building of its kind in all of Africa. It stands on a hill behind large gates guarded by uniformed men
carrying rifles. It is a wide, shiny, glass building, modern in design with meticulously manicured grounds. Very official looking bureaucrats climb into SUV’s with flags of blue flapping in the wind, bearing the official seal. “UN” is printed in bold black letters on the doors and hood of the car.
Arusha was chosen as the location for the tribunal in 1993. It is the very place where the trials from the Rwandan genocide were held and you can’t help but wonder what testimonies were given inside and the fate of each war criminal that had been convicted inside. Now it is used for conferences and other delegate meetings. Just recently, the meetings to deploy troops in Darfur were held there.
Clock Tower
The famous clock tower of Arusha is apparently a big deal but you wouldn’t think it to look at it. It’s a dinky little thing that is about the size of a miniature lighthouse, certainly no Big Ben. Unless you read about it somewhere you wouldn’t know of its significance, and passing by it you wouldn’t even care to find out.
The clock tower marks the true centre point between Johannesburg and Cairo on the continent, and was used for colonial powers when they were mapping out trade routes. It served as their mid-point across Africa and gave them the range of travel from the most North to South. I thought that was pretty cool.
Now a days it’s just a roundabout but still well maintained. But of course leave it to Coca cola to plaster a hideous sign on it, denigrating it to a cheap commercial advertisement. I guess that’s globalization at its finest.
Canucks reunite again!
Hung out with the Arusha crew during the evenings, and spent a few extra nights at the girl’s house. The three of them are sharing a large house downtown that they got to furnish themselves. At my place the only furniture we have are the beds in our rooms. So it was nice to sit on a couch and relax for a change. They got a guard dog they named Simba, but doesn’t really do a good job of guarding cause he’ll go right up to you and lick you. But people here are very afraid of dogs and their bark alone is enough to scare some people off.
They took me out to the popular local hangouts in the city centre, but I have to say it doesn’t measure up to the nightlife in Dar. Arusha is a cute town I’d want to retreat to for short visits, but if I had to choose where to be stationed, it would still be Dar, despite the extreme heat.
Needless to say we partied hard, poured our hearts out about all the challenges we’ve encountered, shared heart-wrenching stories from the field, told funny tails about our placements to lighten the mood, then gushed over the cute diplomats we met over the past week. Turns out we all had our eye on a tall ruggedly handsome Swedish dude.
By the end of the week I had a good taste of most of the city of Arusha and was ready to go back home to Dar. We’ll be visiting each other throughout the year, and I plan to visit the national parks and do Safari in December so there is much more to see.
DAYS 75 – 86
Day 75
The Expat Life
Lately since I’ve been getting to know more of the expat community, I’ve entertained thoughts of remaining abroad. My exposure to the life out here in the world of development has been enticing and I’m not sure if I want to go back home and live an ordinary life. Not to say I had a humdrum life back home at all, but living out here has opened up a whole other world for me that I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to live the expat life.
I’ve met with people who have raised their families abroad. They would travel all over the world and remain uprooted with no real home base. Wherever they are living at the time would be ‘home’ for a year or two before they move onto another assignment in a different part of the world. Their children attend international schools, blend in with the locals and learn several different languages and cultural traditions by the time they hit 10 years old. They get such an enriching experience that to go back to an average life back home in the west and blend in with all the clichés would seem so mundane.
When I was hanging out with Dennis and Kent, two other Canadians also working in HIV/AIDS in Dar es Salaam, I actually felt sheepish telling them I’m going home after a year while they plan to remain behind and dedicate more than just one year to their assignments. What I’ve sacrificed to come out here is nothing compared to others who devote their entire lives living, working and breathing development abroad.
Qué sera sera
The pressure is already on for me to extend my contract for another year. Bruno has asked me if I would consider it. I haven’t given him a definite answer yet and said I would think about it. Right now I’m totally on the fence and not leaning towards either direction. I thought it would be simple; I’d come out here, do my time, then go back and resume all my activities at home.
It’s amazing how circumstances change in just a matter of time. Three months ago I wouldn’t have considered staying, but now that I’m settled here and gotten my feet wet, I’ve been charmed by the work and people around me that the prospect of staying has now become a possibility. Who knows, everything is uncertain and indefinite, and right now I’m not sure what I really want anymore.. but then again who has a clear-cut vision of their future?
Each day is different and my feelings change day to day. Whether I go back home or remain here would depend on so many things. When I was pouring my heart about my feelings to my dear mother over the phone, she jokingly sang to me “Whatever will be, will be, the future’s not ours to see… qué sera sera” I laughed but later thought, how very fitting. All I can do is keep an open mind and whatever will be, will be. As they say here ‘tutaona’ we shall see in Swahili.
Day 76
More petty crimes:
When I was at the beach the other day a woman was mugged in broad daylight. Before anyone could do anything the thief had already run off with her purse and cell phone. She wasn’t hurt, but very shaken up.
Malik’s cellphone was snatched through the window while he was on the bus. He was talking on it when the thief spotted him through the window and snatched it right out of his hand.
Baraka’s wallet was pick-pocketed while he was on board a very crowded bus. He was on his way to pay the last instalment on a laptop he was planning to buy and lost the equivalent of about $300 Cdn.
A British guy who I’ve been talking to, just began his internship about the same time I got here and lost his fancy, expensive SLR camera to a duo at the market place. One guy distracted him while his partner swooped down and yanked it right off his shoulder.
When various parts are stolen off your car there is one place in town you can go to buy replacements. Only thing is when you go there, you find yourself buying your very own property back.
Day 77
Swahili thus far, Part II
The other day I was talking to my family on the phone in Tagalog and caught myself integrating Swahili words by mistake. These days I’ve been speaking a lot and have even found myself thinking in Swahili. I’ve built up a good repertoire of vocabulary and speak somewhat fluent but still get hung up on grammar. Then again, my English grammar isn’t that great either. A lot of people I work with speak little to no English and I will soon be facilitating workshops in Swahili.
Unlike other East African countries like Kenya and Uganda, where English is widely spoken, Tanzanians are more fluid speakers of Swahili than they are of English. English is taught in schools to the same degree French is taught in regular, non-immersion schools in Canada. There are private schools here comparable to immersion schools in Canada that offer in-depth, extensive English learning, but only those privileged enough to attend such schools will be much more conversant in English.
At the post secondary level, English is among one of the requirements on university entrance exams and only those who meet such requirements are accepted. Community colleges and practical certificate studies on the other hand don’t have English requirements. And so, only those with University level education will speak it fluently, otherwise Swahili and perhaps one’s original tribal language remains their principle working language.
Tanzania is unique compared to Kenya and Uganda. Kenya and Uganda adhered to British rule and adopted the English language as their main working language, while Tanzania remained loyal to their Bantu/Swahili roots and it has helped shaped the nation to become more cohesive. While the former two countries still experience hostility between tribes and tribal wars, Tanzania is relatively peaceful with very minimal animosity between tribes and it is said to be on account of the Swahili language unifying the nation.
Different tribes who speak different tribal dialects revert to English as the default language in Kenya and Uganda. Whereas in Tanzania, everyone speaks Swahili no matter what tribe they come from and both their tribal language and Swahili is adopted as their mother tongue. So in a sense it was Swahili that bound Tanzanians together when their first President, Julius Nyerere declared Swahili to be the national language.
It was interesting to learn how each country regards the other in this respect. Tanzanians view Kenyans and Ugandans as pretentious, stuck-up, brown-nosing, snobs who saw it beneath them to retain their Bantu roots by adopting English over Swahili.
On the other hand, Kenyans and Ugandans view Swahili people of Tanzania as uneducated, low class and undignified because of their lack of proficiency in the English language and insistent preservation of Swahili culture. I’ve heard accounts from locals, who during their travels to these countries, felt they were looked down upon when all they had done was pleasantly offer a friendly greeting in Swahili, rather than the monotonous, English “hello”.
On the whole I feel English definitely opens more doors for East African people. As an international language it is especially important for business. It never hurts to know more than one language and without a doubt the more international languages you know the better. In any case I have still learned to appreciate Swahili and I’ve grown to respect the language and the people here who take pride in speaking it.
Day 78
Hot date on a Friday night
Although I enjoy the company of friends, every now and then I need alone time. Today I had a much-needed date with myself. On my way home from work I detoured to a popular expat supermarket in town to pick up a pint of icecream. It would’ve been amazing if I had a tub to soak in a hot bath.
Hoyce, the girl I’m living with, brought back several bottles of wine from South Africa and told me to help myself so I did. I turned on my favourite Ella ballads and let her soothing voice send me off into my own world. While emptying my thoughts, I sat out on my balcony under the stars, spooning hazelnut icecream and knocked back the wine.
Seeing as my lunch wasn’t very substantial and for dinner I was only spooning icecream, it wasn’t long before the wine took effect. Pretty soon, I drank myself to sleep. It’s ok to drink alone here, ‘this is Africa’
Day 79
A new boy in my life named Pili
I’ve been checking up on Pili who is the little orphaned boy brought into the office and taken under our care. He has been moved to a hospice a little outside town where many other children, mostly orphans are sent.
Whenever I’m in the city, I rush through my day so I can head over there after work. He is intrigued with origami so every time I visit I bring scrap paper with me and together we fold different animals. His favourite is the paper crane. We’ve made a few dozen already and he keeps them in a plastic bag by his bed.
I was reminded of the story of young Sadako, a victim of Hiroshima. She was told folding one thousand paper cranes would make your wish come true. Naturally she wished to live. She reached 700-and-something before she died.
The Chairman has graciously covered the cost of his bills. Mama Tobias said grimly, “It will just be a matter of time before the costs of his funeral will have to be taken care of.”
This broke my heart.
Day 80
T’is the season for weddings
I’ve missed out on a number of weddings back home but more than made up for it with the amount I’ve attended here. In the 3 months I’ve been here, I’ve gone to 3 wedding events. Today I attended my 4th event, and second Kitchen Party.
The girl I’m living with Hoyce, is getting married to a Zambian and invited me to her ever-so-wholesome Kitchen Party (See Day 30). It was much more liberal and progressive than the last Kitchen Party I attended where the bride-to-be was instructed to be submissive to her husband and “anticipate his needs”.
Though there was one piece of advice I felt was questionable:
When you are angry with your husband, rather than lashing out at him, go to the bathroom first and release all your angry thoughts in front of the mirror. When you are through, flush them all down the toilet. You will feel much better than if you talk to your husband about it.
Yikes…
Forget this flushing down the toilet nonsense; if I’m pissed at my husband, he’ll hear from me, and then some!
Day 81
Winter coming to an end
Dar es Salaam’s “winter” is coming to an end. We are slowly transitioning from hot, to hot and humid. The barometer is rising from 30-degree weather to 35-40 degree heat wave. Let the sizzling begin.
Day 82
Bonding with the boys over bball
Played some basketball with the guys from the office, Baraka, Malik and Moses. The guys have been wanting to start up some games and each chipped in to buy a ball. They told me it took them a while to save up for it and I didn’t realize until then how much effort it takes to play any sport other than football (soccer). I’ve seen kids kicking around the most ragged, worn out, tattered balls that have been patched-up and stringed-up for preservation.
The guys invited me and I conditionally accepted to play with them. I played on my high school team and on an intramural league back in the day but it’s been a while since I’ve even dribbled a ball. So I agreed to play only if they went easy on me.
We trekked out to a schoolyard that had an open court. They kept taunting me with “white men can’t jump”. I showed them, I’m neither white nor a man. For a girl, up against hard-core basketball African dudes, I didn’t do too shabby …(ok, I’ll admit I played a little dirty!)
Fun times.
Day 83
Sleeeeeeeeepy
It’s 8pm, I just got home. I’m exhausted. I’m skipping dinner and going to bed now.
Usiku mwema (goodnight)
Day 84
Cooking Chinese, African style
Halima invited me to her place for dinner and wanted me to show her Chinese cooking. I planned to show her Chinese fried rice and a stir-fry vegetable dish. The number of English words she knows can be added on one hand, so it was a rather interesting night communicating with each other.
She lives in a communal house with a family where she stays in one of the bedrooms on her own. The homes of my co-workers reflect ‘middle-class’ living, while the very poor live in shacks in slums and shantytowns. On the other hand, the poor in rural villages live in one room mud huts and straw shacks and from hand to mouth.
When got to her place she showed me into the common area where the women do their cooking over charcoal stoves. (There is no kitchen). It is during cooking that women bond and share tips and other life experience. There are no counter tops, you crouch down, hover over, or sit on low stools, cooking over these stoves and it takes forever.
She brought out an apron for me to tie around my waist and we sat on the ground to begin cooking. She got the veggies out and we began preparing them. She handed me the carrots and I asked her for a peeler.
…She didn’t know what a peeler was.
When we got to cooking rice I made the mistake of asking her where her rice cooker was… oops!
…poor thing looked so confused.
I didn’t even attempt asking her where her wok was.
...you’d think I’d remember these things by now, but you forget and take little things for granted like a vegetable peeler, rice cooker and wok.
An hour and a half later the charcoal finally finished cooking everything and we actually managed to get by without the fancy apparatus (although had it been available it would’ve taken no more than 15 minutes). The food didn’t turn out bad at all either -it didn’t taste right on, but I didn’t expect it to. By the end of the night, my Swahili had run out and I had to break out my dictionary and consult it for every other word to continue to carry-on a conversation with her. It was pretty exhausting.
I actually enjoyed the rough minimalist African cooking experience and learned a lot more from her than she did me. But all things considered, I still prefer my rice cooker and wok to the charcoal stove, and preparing food in under half ‘n hour.
Day 85
Mozambique comes to Dar
Two women from an AIDS org in Mozambique were sent by their donors to shadow us for a week and exchange information for them to bring back to their communities. Their organization receives funding from the same source TANOPHA also receives a good share of funds.
They were sent here to observe our programs so that they can take back the information to their own programs and hopefully improve outreach to PLHA’s in Mozambique. This past week they have been following us around in the field and taking notes while we did treatment counselling and nutrition workshops with different groups.
The state of HIV/AIDS in Eastern Africa
It was interesting to learn that Mozambique’s government compared to Tanzania, is not as committed to helping in the HIV/AIDS efforts. Here it has been declared a national crisis for a few years now and much funding has gone through the government in efforts to help control the pandemic through prevention, education programs, testing sites and access to drugs.
In Mozambique, we learned many people who are in desperate need of ARV’s cannot access them because they are not widely available in the country as they are here in Tanzania. There are no available funds at the national level for programs and services and they have had to seek funding from other international donors.
Also, compared to Tanzania their level of stigma is much worse, and to compound the problem, education and literacy is lower. Some villages still carry the belief that HIV/AIDS is caused by witchcraft. Infected individuals seek out village witchdoctors for healing but grow even more ill when the remedy fails to do its ‘magic’.
What I found sickening is that some people try to capitalize on the disease and whip up all sorts of concoctions with claims of a cure and sell potions of sugar water. Sadly, people are so desperate and afraid to come out in the open to their communities, that they buy into these scams and self-remedy, only to meet their death shortly after.
South Africa we learned from other partners, is the most open and progressive African county in addressing HIV/AIDS. Tanzania still has a long way to go, and Mozambique, even further so there is still much to learn.
Day 86
Cha-Ching!!!!!!!
My kick-ass grant proposal I wrote for USAIDS just scored us $250,000 USD to set up more Voluntary Counselling and Treatment Centres across the country!! How awesome is that! But that was just the easy part. Now that funds are coming through, the hard work begins. In the meantime I’m breaking out the champagne and celebrating tonight.
The Expat Life
Lately since I’ve been getting to know more of the expat community, I’ve entertained thoughts of remaining abroad. My exposure to the life out here in the world of development has been enticing and I’m not sure if I want to go back home and live an ordinary life. Not to say I had a humdrum life back home at all, but living out here has opened up a whole other world for me that I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to live the expat life.
I’ve met with people who have raised their families abroad. They would travel all over the world and remain uprooted with no real home base. Wherever they are living at the time would be ‘home’ for a year or two before they move onto another assignment in a different part of the world. Their children attend international schools, blend in with the locals and learn several different languages and cultural traditions by the time they hit 10 years old. They get such an enriching experience that to go back to an average life back home in the west and blend in with all the clichés would seem so mundane.
When I was hanging out with Dennis and Kent, two other Canadians also working in HIV/AIDS in Dar es Salaam, I actually felt sheepish telling them I’m going home after a year while they plan to remain behind and dedicate more than just one year to their assignments. What I’ve sacrificed to come out here is nothing compared to others who devote their entire lives living, working and breathing development abroad.
Qué sera sera
The pressure is already on for me to extend my contract for another year. Bruno has asked me if I would consider it. I haven’t given him a definite answer yet and said I would think about it. Right now I’m totally on the fence and not leaning towards either direction. I thought it would be simple; I’d come out here, do my time, then go back and resume all my activities at home.
It’s amazing how circumstances change in just a matter of time. Three months ago I wouldn’t have considered staying, but now that I’m settled here and gotten my feet wet, I’ve been charmed by the work and people around me that the prospect of staying has now become a possibility. Who knows, everything is uncertain and indefinite, and right now I’m not sure what I really want anymore.. but then again who has a clear-cut vision of their future?
Each day is different and my feelings change day to day. Whether I go back home or remain here would depend on so many things. When I was pouring my heart about my feelings to my dear mother over the phone, she jokingly sang to me “Whatever will be, will be, the future’s not ours to see… qué sera sera” I laughed but later thought, how very fitting. All I can do is keep an open mind and whatever will be, will be. As they say here ‘tutaona’ we shall see in Swahili.
Day 76
More petty crimes:
When I was at the beach the other day a woman was mugged in broad daylight. Before anyone could do anything the thief had already run off with her purse and cell phone. She wasn’t hurt, but very shaken up.
Malik’s cellphone was snatched through the window while he was on the bus. He was talking on it when the thief spotted him through the window and snatched it right out of his hand.
Baraka’s wallet was pick-pocketed while he was on board a very crowded bus. He was on his way to pay the last instalment on a laptop he was planning to buy and lost the equivalent of about $300 Cdn.
A British guy who I’ve been talking to, just began his internship about the same time I got here and lost his fancy, expensive SLR camera to a duo at the market place. One guy distracted him while his partner swooped down and yanked it right off his shoulder.
When various parts are stolen off your car there is one place in town you can go to buy replacements. Only thing is when you go there, you find yourself buying your very own property back.
Day 77
Swahili thus far, Part II
The other day I was talking to my family on the phone in Tagalog and caught myself integrating Swahili words by mistake. These days I’ve been speaking a lot and have even found myself thinking in Swahili. I’ve built up a good repertoire of vocabulary and speak somewhat fluent but still get hung up on grammar. Then again, my English grammar isn’t that great either. A lot of people I work with speak little to no English and I will soon be facilitating workshops in Swahili.
Unlike other East African countries like Kenya and Uganda, where English is widely spoken, Tanzanians are more fluid speakers of Swahili than they are of English. English is taught in schools to the same degree French is taught in regular, non-immersion schools in Canada. There are private schools here comparable to immersion schools in Canada that offer in-depth, extensive English learning, but only those privileged enough to attend such schools will be much more conversant in English.
At the post secondary level, English is among one of the requirements on university entrance exams and only those who meet such requirements are accepted. Community colleges and practical certificate studies on the other hand don’t have English requirements. And so, only those with University level education will speak it fluently, otherwise Swahili and perhaps one’s original tribal language remains their principle working language.
Tanzania is unique compared to Kenya and Uganda. Kenya and Uganda adhered to British rule and adopted the English language as their main working language, while Tanzania remained loyal to their Bantu/Swahili roots and it has helped shaped the nation to become more cohesive. While the former two countries still experience hostility between tribes and tribal wars, Tanzania is relatively peaceful with very minimal animosity between tribes and it is said to be on account of the Swahili language unifying the nation.
Different tribes who speak different tribal dialects revert to English as the default language in Kenya and Uganda. Whereas in Tanzania, everyone speaks Swahili no matter what tribe they come from and both their tribal language and Swahili is adopted as their mother tongue. So in a sense it was Swahili that bound Tanzanians together when their first President, Julius Nyerere declared Swahili to be the national language.
It was interesting to learn how each country regards the other in this respect. Tanzanians view Kenyans and Ugandans as pretentious, stuck-up, brown-nosing, snobs who saw it beneath them to retain their Bantu roots by adopting English over Swahili.
On the other hand, Kenyans and Ugandans view Swahili people of Tanzania as uneducated, low class and undignified because of their lack of proficiency in the English language and insistent preservation of Swahili culture. I’ve heard accounts from locals, who during their travels to these countries, felt they were looked down upon when all they had done was pleasantly offer a friendly greeting in Swahili, rather than the monotonous, English “hello”.
On the whole I feel English definitely opens more doors for East African people. As an international language it is especially important for business. It never hurts to know more than one language and without a doubt the more international languages you know the better. In any case I have still learned to appreciate Swahili and I’ve grown to respect the language and the people here who take pride in speaking it.
Day 78
Hot date on a Friday night
Although I enjoy the company of friends, every now and then I need alone time. Today I had a much-needed date with myself. On my way home from work I detoured to a popular expat supermarket in town to pick up a pint of icecream. It would’ve been amazing if I had a tub to soak in a hot bath.
Hoyce, the girl I’m living with, brought back several bottles of wine from South Africa and told me to help myself so I did. I turned on my favourite Ella ballads and let her soothing voice send me off into my own world. While emptying my thoughts, I sat out on my balcony under the stars, spooning hazelnut icecream and knocked back the wine.
Seeing as my lunch wasn’t very substantial and for dinner I was only spooning icecream, it wasn’t long before the wine took effect. Pretty soon, I drank myself to sleep. It’s ok to drink alone here, ‘this is Africa’
Day 79
A new boy in my life named Pili
I’ve been checking up on Pili who is the little orphaned boy brought into the office and taken under our care. He has been moved to a hospice a little outside town where many other children, mostly orphans are sent.
Whenever I’m in the city, I rush through my day so I can head over there after work. He is intrigued with origami so every time I visit I bring scrap paper with me and together we fold different animals. His favourite is the paper crane. We’ve made a few dozen already and he keeps them in a plastic bag by his bed.
I was reminded of the story of young Sadako, a victim of Hiroshima. She was told folding one thousand paper cranes would make your wish come true. Naturally she wished to live. She reached 700-and-something before she died.
The Chairman has graciously covered the cost of his bills. Mama Tobias said grimly, “It will just be a matter of time before the costs of his funeral will have to be taken care of.”
This broke my heart.
Day 80
T’is the season for weddings
I’ve missed out on a number of weddings back home but more than made up for it with the amount I’ve attended here. In the 3 months I’ve been here, I’ve gone to 3 wedding events. Today I attended my 4th event, and second Kitchen Party.
The girl I’m living with Hoyce, is getting married to a Zambian and invited me to her ever-so-wholesome Kitchen Party (See Day 30). It was much more liberal and progressive than the last Kitchen Party I attended where the bride-to-be was instructed to be submissive to her husband and “anticipate his needs”.
Though there was one piece of advice I felt was questionable:
When you are angry with your husband, rather than lashing out at him, go to the bathroom first and release all your angry thoughts in front of the mirror. When you are through, flush them all down the toilet. You will feel much better than if you talk to your husband about it.
Yikes…
Forget this flushing down the toilet nonsense; if I’m pissed at my husband, he’ll hear from me, and then some!
Day 81
Winter coming to an end
Dar es Salaam’s “winter” is coming to an end. We are slowly transitioning from hot, to hot and humid. The barometer is rising from 30-degree weather to 35-40 degree heat wave. Let the sizzling begin.
Day 82
Bonding with the boys over bball
Played some basketball with the guys from the office, Baraka, Malik and Moses. The guys have been wanting to start up some games and each chipped in to buy a ball. They told me it took them a while to save up for it and I didn’t realize until then how much effort it takes to play any sport other than football (soccer). I’ve seen kids kicking around the most ragged, worn out, tattered balls that have been patched-up and stringed-up for preservation.
The guys invited me and I conditionally accepted to play with them. I played on my high school team and on an intramural league back in the day but it’s been a while since I’ve even dribbled a ball. So I agreed to play only if they went easy on me.
We trekked out to a schoolyard that had an open court. They kept taunting me with “white men can’t jump”. I showed them, I’m neither white nor a man. For a girl, up against hard-core basketball African dudes, I didn’t do too shabby …(ok, I’ll admit I played a little dirty!)
Fun times.
Day 83
Sleeeeeeeeepy
It’s 8pm, I just got home. I’m exhausted. I’m skipping dinner and going to bed now.
Usiku mwema (goodnight)
Day 84
Cooking Chinese, African style
Halima invited me to her place for dinner and wanted me to show her Chinese cooking. I planned to show her Chinese fried rice and a stir-fry vegetable dish. The number of English words she knows can be added on one hand, so it was a rather interesting night communicating with each other.
She lives in a communal house with a family where she stays in one of the bedrooms on her own. The homes of my co-workers reflect ‘middle-class’ living, while the very poor live in shacks in slums and shantytowns. On the other hand, the poor in rural villages live in one room mud huts and straw shacks and from hand to mouth.
When got to her place she showed me into the common area where the women do their cooking over charcoal stoves. (There is no kitchen). It is during cooking that women bond and share tips and other life experience. There are no counter tops, you crouch down, hover over, or sit on low stools, cooking over these stoves and it takes forever.
She brought out an apron for me to tie around my waist and we sat on the ground to begin cooking. She got the veggies out and we began preparing them. She handed me the carrots and I asked her for a peeler.
…She didn’t know what a peeler was.
When we got to cooking rice I made the mistake of asking her where her rice cooker was… oops!
…poor thing looked so confused.
I didn’t even attempt asking her where her wok was.
...you’d think I’d remember these things by now, but you forget and take little things for granted like a vegetable peeler, rice cooker and wok.
An hour and a half later the charcoal finally finished cooking everything and we actually managed to get by without the fancy apparatus (although had it been available it would’ve taken no more than 15 minutes). The food didn’t turn out bad at all either -it didn’t taste right on, but I didn’t expect it to. By the end of the night, my Swahili had run out and I had to break out my dictionary and consult it for every other word to continue to carry-on a conversation with her. It was pretty exhausting.
I actually enjoyed the rough minimalist African cooking experience and learned a lot more from her than she did me. But all things considered, I still prefer my rice cooker and wok to the charcoal stove, and preparing food in under half ‘n hour.
Day 85
Mozambique comes to Dar
Two women from an AIDS org in Mozambique were sent by their donors to shadow us for a week and exchange information for them to bring back to their communities. Their organization receives funding from the same source TANOPHA also receives a good share of funds.
They were sent here to observe our programs so that they can take back the information to their own programs and hopefully improve outreach to PLHA’s in Mozambique. This past week they have been following us around in the field and taking notes while we did treatment counselling and nutrition workshops with different groups.
The state of HIV/AIDS in Eastern Africa
It was interesting to learn that Mozambique’s government compared to Tanzania, is not as committed to helping in the HIV/AIDS efforts. Here it has been declared a national crisis for a few years now and much funding has gone through the government in efforts to help control the pandemic through prevention, education programs, testing sites and access to drugs.
In Mozambique, we learned many people who are in desperate need of ARV’s cannot access them because they are not widely available in the country as they are here in Tanzania. There are no available funds at the national level for programs and services and they have had to seek funding from other international donors.
Also, compared to Tanzania their level of stigma is much worse, and to compound the problem, education and literacy is lower. Some villages still carry the belief that HIV/AIDS is caused by witchcraft. Infected individuals seek out village witchdoctors for healing but grow even more ill when the remedy fails to do its ‘magic’.
What I found sickening is that some people try to capitalize on the disease and whip up all sorts of concoctions with claims of a cure and sell potions of sugar water. Sadly, people are so desperate and afraid to come out in the open to their communities, that they buy into these scams and self-remedy, only to meet their death shortly after.
South Africa we learned from other partners, is the most open and progressive African county in addressing HIV/AIDS. Tanzania still has a long way to go, and Mozambique, even further so there is still much to learn.
Day 86
Cha-Ching!!!!!!!
My kick-ass grant proposal I wrote for USAIDS just scored us $250,000 USD to set up more Voluntary Counselling and Treatment Centres across the country!! How awesome is that! But that was just the easy part. Now that funds are coming through, the hard work begins. In the meantime I’m breaking out the champagne and celebrating tonight.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
DAYS 65 – 74
Day 65
I watched a man die right before my eyes
Today I witnessed an ugly side of Tanzania. My first day back on my feet was a day of horror I’ll never forget as long as I’m living.
Bruno opened the office on a Saturday to let a few of us come in to catch up on work. I’m very behind in work after being off sick for almost 2 weeks so Baraka and I, along with some admin staff went to the office to get caught up. We had been quietly working when we heard a shouts and screaming and went to the window to see what the fuss was about.
Inside the compound of the building, a few guys were taking turns beating another man. Alarmed at the display of violence, I asked Baraka why they were doing that. “That’s what they do to thieves” was all he said. As they continued to beat him I asked Baraka when they planned to stop, he answered “They will try to beat him to death”. I stared at him in disbelief.
I dashed out of the office and headed downstairs to where it was happening. A large mob had formed and more people were rushing over to witness the commotion. The man was crying out, and sprawled on the ground.
More guys had joined-in beating the man, and had now graduated to rocks. When the rocks weren’t doing enough damage they got a hold of bricks and began bashing the man down over and over again. Others began stomping on his head with their feet.
I asked the people around me what exactly had happened and they each confirmed what Baraka had already told me “the man is a thief.” What he stole didn’t matter, just that he had stolen something, and he had to pay with his life.
I impulsively marched forward, I don’t even know what I had planned to do, but before I could get far Baraka, who had joined me downstairs, abruptly grabbed me and said “Don’t be foolish. Unless you want to die with him, stay back.” Apparently by helping a victim you’re supporting a thief by taking their side, and you too, will get beaten along with them
People continued to flock around, encouraging the perpetrators to carry on, probably thinking they were doing the world a whole lot of justice by killing this man, others were standing around, looking on and laughing, entertained by it all. The man had gone completely limp and couldn’t even shield himself anymore.
The sight of it was already appalling but what was even more sickening was that people were just standing there, passively watching a man die. I screamed at people to stop the beating but no one wanted to side with a thief and if I wasn’t a foreigner they would’ve taken me down with him.
Baraka called 112, their 911, and explained the situation to the operator in Swahili. When he got off the line he gave me an I-told-you-so look and said “Police here are useless, they are sending someone but knowing them they will show up hours from now when he’s already dead.”
Tears streamed down my face as I watched them bash his skull against the ground and drop bricks on his body. With every blow that made contact with his body you could hear more organs bleeding, bones crushing. He had already stopped crying-out.
Something snapped inside me and I couldn’t take it anymore. I remembered Bruno had gone for tea down the street and sprinted over there to ask for his help. I got there and couldn’t speak coherently. Baraka had caught up to me and explained what was happening to Bruno who quickly got on his feet to accompany us back to the scene.
When we got back things were getting out of hand. People were growing louder and rowdier, and began chanting “petro, petro”, wanting to douse the man in gas and light him on fire. I quietly prayed the police would show up soon.
Bruno, being the Chairman of the building compound and well known in the area as a man of authority, took charge and commanded them to stop. He bellowed that the police were on their way and he would have anyone who remained on building property arrested if they continued. It took some coercion but the mob finally disbanded one by one. By the time it was safe to approach the man, it was too late. Too much damage had been done to his body.
The site of the bloody body before me was too much and I broke down in tears. Baraka took me back upstairs to the office where I continued to sob, traumatized by the event. What happened afterwards I don’t know, but I imagine when the police & ambulance finally made an appearance they didn’t bother resuscitating him and took the body away. What I do know for certain is that no one was taken in on charges for the murder of that man.
It was the most gruesome horrifying scene I still can’t get out of my head. How could they do this to another person? It was so barbaric and inhumane. I was filled with anger towards the perpetrators who beat him, each and every person who had been part of the crowd including my co-workers who just stood there and didn’t budge, even towards Baraka who didn’t think of calling the police sooner.
To them it was vigilante justice. I learned later from the chatter and stories that lingered in the area after the incident, that he had stolen fruit.
He took fruit and they took his life.
Day 66
Trauma still lingers
I needed to be alone today and spent most of the day by myself. I decided to take a walk through the neighbourhood of my office. Looking around, my surroundings seemed so foreign to me all over again.
I wondered if any of the faces who greeted me pleasantly as I passed, were among those who helped beat the man down yesterday. I wondered which fruit stand and vender the dead man had stolen from, and who among the grim faces I passed might’ve been friends with him or related to him, and learned of his horrible death. I passed children sketching pictures in the dirt and wondered if he had children and family he wanted to feed with the fruits he had stolen.
I talked to Baraka about it later who sensed it was still troubling me. We talked through it but in the end I remained disheartened and grew more despondent. “There is no justice system here, Hannah” he explained, “This is Africa, it’s not like where you come from, where you can press charges or put someone on probation. Thieves are thrown in jail for a day or two but the next day they are back on the streets, weaker and hungrier, and won’t hesitate to steal again.”
“That doesn’t make it right” I countered, “How do you justify a life for a banana?”
Baraka told me just days ago he witnessed a teenage boy beat up the same way, because he stole a pair of slippers. The boy’s mother came rushing to the scene but it was too late. He died in his mother’s arms and she wept while holding him. Afterward she gave back the slippers he took, he would no longer need them.
He’s seen many more horrific scenes of violence where a tire was tied around the victim’s neck, gasoline was poured on them and they were burned to death. These are fairly regular occurrences in Tanzania, he told me. To my dismay, he added, the violence here is tame compared to other African countries like South Africa, Zimbabwe or Nairobi to name a few.
I’ve been so naïve and sheltered. I’m living in a neighbourhood that would probably be considered Dar’s Rosedale if comparing to Toronto, and far removed from where these incidences would notoriously occur. What I didn’t know was that the very neighbourhood our office is located is among one of them. There haven’t been any major incidents up until now, but Baraka warned me this may not be the only murder I witness this year.
“This is Africa,” he repeated, “That’s how hard life is here. People aren’t educated. It’s survival of the fittest, but without education and a fair justice system there is no chance of survival. You die if you go hungry, but you also die if you steal to eat.”
I’m so sick of hearing ‘this is Africa’. It is powerless moments like these that make me want to bail out and go home. Baraka, must have read my mind. While hugging me tight he earnestly whispered, “Thank you for being here, we need all the help we can get”. I gave a bittersweet laugh and tried unsuccessfully to hide the tears that were welling up.
Day 67
Monday back to work
Coming to the office now triggers images of the brutal death of the man. I walk by the very spot where the barbaric actions took place and can’t get the horrific images out of my mind. There is a lot to catch up on at work so I’m hoping I can keep myself preoccupied.
The rest of the staff who weren’t there to witness Saturday’s incident, got to read about it in the local papers today. I presume reporters were called to the scene at the end, for the great photo op of the dead man.
My African parents
With the increasing incidence of crime in our area, and TANOPHA being my host here in Tanzania, Mama Tobias and Bruno have been concerned about my safety and advised me not to walk home by myself anymore. Bruno went as far as to escort me to the bus stop and see me off, informing the conductor exactly where to let me off.
Though I appreciate their care and concern as my host, if anything should happen to me I would never personally hold them responsible in any way. I’ll be taking the dreaded Dala Dala this week until things cool-off. Next week however, I’ll go back to my routine of walking home and whatever happens, happens.
Day 68
Meeting the Canadian Ambassador at his residence.
I was invited to the farewell party of the Canadian Ambassador to Tanzania, who is returning home to Canada. The other Canadians I knew couldn’t make it so I went solo.
The Canadian Residence is a huge compound with a beautiful ocean view of the beach. We got a small peek in some of the common rooms near the entrance and it was brilliantly furnished with classic furniture and African artefacts.
The party started around 6pm and upon arrival I was introduced to the Ambassador, Dr. Andrew McAllister and his wife, Mrs. Bente McAllister. We chatted for a bit; they asked me what my background was, what I was doing in Tanzania and how I was enjoying my stay so far.
After my chat with the Ambassador, I was by myself for the first while. There was free booze and plenty of h’ordeurves. I didn’t know a single person there, so I stayed close by the bar sipping wine. People began approaching me to make small talk. I met a whole slew of different people including Canadian missionary nuns working with orphans in rural villages across the country, and other Civil Servants working for various NGO’s of different interests.
I met the D.R. Congo High Commission Secretary who was apparently there to scout easy game and didn’t beat around the bush. He asked if I was married, I answered no. He asked if I was attached, I told him I left a boyfriend in Canada; he answered, “Well then, since he’s so far away perhaps we should get together one night.” I walked away to find other people to chat with.
There were a few Asians in the crowd and we gave each other the obligatory nod of acknowledgement. I met one Filipina who was delighted to meet a fellow Filipino in Dar. There is a small population of Asians who are primarily Chinese, but Filipinos are scarce. We chatted in Tagalog for a bit and it was nice to refresh myself in my language. She’s a housewife who doesn’t seem to have much interest in absorbing any Tanzanian culture while she’s here and hasn’t made any effort learning the language either despite living here for over two years now. Her husband is Canadian and works for the High Commission.
There was a short programme where the Ambassador said a few words of farewell and alternated between English, French and Swahili. A toast was raised to the health and prosperity of both Canada & Tanzania. Words were distributed for both national anthems of Tanzania and Canada and both were sung. Tanzanians who were part of the crowd belted their anthem with pride and we belted ours. It was a nice warm feeling of unity between the two nations.
Looking around there were very few young people and most were twice my age and very experienced in the world of international relations so I felt a little out of place at first. Later that evening, I found myself chatting with guys from the High Commissions of Japan and Italy who were closer to my age. Their backgrounds were in business/commerce so I learned a little bit about Japanese & Italian relations in Africa. The two Italian guys were Stefano who’s been living here the past three years, and Julian who is also an intern and got here about the same time as me.
After we bonded and had a few too many drinks, I had reached my limit of wine and it was time to go home. It turns out the two Italians live close to me so I got a ride home with them.
It was a much-needed relaxing evening to chill and I felt very international.
Day 69
Harder times
This week there’s been a lot of buzz about the new budget that was just released in parliament. The price of oil has gone up affecting prices of everything else that trickles down from it.
Dar’s transport system has also been hit pretty hard by the budget and bus fare went up 100 Shillings. A round trip on the Dala Dala now costs 600 shillings, which is just 400 shillings short of how much people make in one day on average. Many bus conductors have been let go and some have tried to run off with earnings from the bus fares, causing more vigilante justice. Crime in general has been on the rise just in the past week. If I was oblivious to it before, I’ve now developed a heightened awareness to the chatter when I hear about another death on the street.
Additionally our neighbours to the north have been going through their share of political instability as Kenya is preparing for elections. The headlines read of murders everyday in Nairobi and there’s been growing economic strain in the East African Union.
Tanzania only recently transitioned from socialism to capitalism about 5 years ago. Though their infrastructure has somewhat improved and GDP gone up some, profits have only benefited very few and the little people are still being screwed over.
Many people are living on less than a dollar a day. I learned our guard, Christopher is getting paid the equivalent of just under $30 Cdn a month. He asked me if I knew of other places he can take a second job because living on 30,000/= Tsh wasn’t helping to support his family. The owner of the compound pays the salary of the help around here and I couldn’t believe it was so little. The equivalent of a dollar here is about 1,000/= Tsh which can buy a loaf of bread.
Teach a man to fish, he still goes hungry
The other day I was at the office and noticed no one was taking their lunch. I asked why no one wanted to eat today and Malik spoke up and said “we haven’t received this month’s pay yet.” I shook my head dejected that even the educated and working class struggle through life the way they do. I ordered rolls of ugali and mbuzi (goat meat) enough for all the staff to share at the office and it cost the equivalent of about $8 Canadian dollars.
People who have been taught to fish still go hungry. What good are fishing skills when you don’t even have a durable net to catch them with? This is Africa I bitterly thought..
Day 70
Fieldwork rolling in
The counselling has begun and I’ve been facilitating training sessions to PLHA’s on treatment literacy at VCT’s (Voluntary Counselling Treatment Centres) in the city. I’m teaching new users of ARV’s how to take their meds properly and maximize their therapy through good nutrition and physical activity. For the most part the patients are there by choice and very receptive to the discussions and I find myself inundated with so many questions.
A little bit of basic immunology background
WBC = white blood cells
-These guys normally fight off viruses and are the main target of HIV
-As more WBC’s are attacked the immune system is weakened
HIV = human immuno deficiency virus
-When the virus attacks it binds to the surface of WBC’s with the help of CD4 and expels its junk into the cytoplasm of the cell
-It’s DNA is copied and incorporated into the cell, allowing the production of more and more viruses to continue infecting other WBC’s and killing them off and reducing the number of CD4.
CD4 = cluster differentiated protein found in WBC’s
-CD4’s are proteins in WBC’s that are responsible for stimulating the production of antibodies and multiplication of other WBC’s.
-Healthy people have on average a CD4 count of about 1000+
-Tanzania’s policy on eligibility for ARV’s is a CD4 count of 200 and below
-Patients in most countries in Europe, the US and Canada usually start ARV’s when CD4 is from 500 - 300 and below.
-Full blown AIDS is 50 and below.
ART = anti retroviral therapy
-Unless ART is administered, the virus will continue to kill off WBC’s, weakening the immune system, progressing to AIDS
-ART prevents the transcription for DNA replication and prevents CD4 from allowing the virus to bind to the cell
-The virus is constantly mutating and after taking particular ARV drugs overtime, the body eventually stops responding to it and the patient then has to graduate to the next level drug.
-Most people are put on multi therapy cocktails right away. These are a mixture of different grades of ART to cover more ground
AIDS = acquired immune deficiency syndrome
-When more WBC’s are attacked the immune system is weakened and the condition progresses to AIDS
-Weakened immune system means susceptibility to infections and people don’t die of AIDS itself but rather, the opportunistic diseases that propagate when they’ve reached the state of AIDS
-Under ideal circumstances most people can live with HIV for long periods of time if they are very careful and can sustain their overall health to prevent the onset of AIDS
-Some can be HIV+ for many years and do not need ARV’s which should be used as a last resort
-It’s possible in the first world for PLHA’s to live healthy lives, but unfortunately a death sentence in Sub Saharan Africa
-The vulnerable include children, those who can’t afford to eat well, or those who work in tough conditions where they have to wear their body down causing their strength and immunity to deteriorate
-Children who are born with HIV do not live long because their immune system is immature and ARV’s can only sustain their immunity for so long before they succumb to AIDS
Day 71
I bang pianos
I think out of all my possessions I miss my piano the most. I started practicing again when I moved back home and discovered it was a completely different feeling playing for my own enjoyment than when I used to take it seriously. It was so soothing and therapeutic that when I kept practicing I found I enjoyed it on a completely different level and even progressed with new repertoire.
Even when I was away from home and went away to school, I’d sneak into the music building on campus whenever I needed to release pent up emotions and pound at the keys. Here, there is no place I can sneak into to get access to a piano. I could use a release about now. I could also use other mediums of release about now… but a cold shower will have to do.
Day 72
Girl bonding part II
I spent Saturday bonding with the girls Neema, Pascazia, and Halima, from the office who invited me to go shopping with them. Kariakoo is like Dar’s Eaton Centre, so I made another trip yet again to the infamous Kariakoo. I felt like an ornament for the most part, they were so eager to parade around with me and enjoyed the catcalls and hollering we got from people as we walked by.
I was their new subject they wanted to dress up and initiate as an African woman so they took me to a place where we picked up fabric to have matching African style dresses made. I didn’t mind them fawning over me and found it kind of cute that they were so enthusiastic to have me in their company. They got their kicks out of flaunting their ‘Mzungu’ friend to everyone there.
Neema speaks the most English out of the three, while Pascazia speaks very little, and Halima, none at all, so whenever I’m in their company it’s a great opportunity for me to step up my Swahili.
Boys, boys, boys
Afterwards I invited them to my place for lunch and what could possibly be the heated topic of conversation when you get a bunch of girls together in one room but boys! The outpour of gossip made me blush at the amount of detail they went into about certain guys they fancied at the office and questions they asked me about my experience with boys. If I thought African men were forward and bold, African women put them to shame!
“I would marry a mzungu man if he can make love as good as an African man, otherwise I’ll stick with a poor but well endowed African” (Mzungu means European and is used to refer to any white or non-black foreign person)
“Do you plan to never leave your room when your mchumba comes to visit?” (mchumba means boyfriend/girlfriend)
“You should take an African boyfriend, you have needs you know. I’m sure your Canadian boyfriend will understand. He’s probably already gotten a new girlfriend so you should check if his needs are being taken care of while you are here.”
Yikes…
No, I haven’t taken an African boyfriend and cope just fine. Between sweating in the sizzling heat and the cold showers it kind of puts you off anyway. Anthony will be coming to visit in December just in time when I hit the six-month mark. I’ll take my holidays then and we’ll be travelling around the country before we part for another six months.
He’s been busy with work as it is, if I had stuck around we wouldn’t have seen much of each other anyway. He has told me he copes by doing push-ups everyday…if we make it past this, I’m pretty sure we can make it through anything.
Loneliness
All the boy-talk made me lonely that night. When I was deciding whether to accept this placement it really boiled down to Anthony. My family will still be my family when I get back and friends will remain, but I wasn’t so sure if I’d still have a boyfriend when I get back.
We’re going on 7 years now and we’ve had our share of challenges. We met in residence our first year of university and stuck together since. It was tough being apart after we graduated and moved back to Toronto and shortly after, he left for law school. We’ve been doing long distance for two years and now even further in distance for the year that I’m here. It’s been a rough ride, but somehow we’ve made it work so far.
It’s especially difficult when I’m depressed and rundown from the things I see everyday. I’ve seen the sickest people who are knocking on death’s doorstep, babies just born but already dying, young children who aspire to be teachers and astronauts when they grow up, but won’t even live to see double digits, thieves who steal food in order to eat but get killed for it, street children picking through garbage to salvage anything edible they can find….
At the end of the day when I most need someone to just hold me, I go home alone and process all of what I’ve seen by myself.
Day 73
Hassan, my fruit dealer
I’ve got a fruit guy, Hassan who caters to me every time I stop by the market to pick up fruit. The guys at the stand now expect to see me everyday. When I was sick for nearly two weeks they had been wondering where I’ve been.
As I’m approaching the guys are already hollering my name and greet me. Hassan is my favourite guy of the bunch, really sweet and before I’ve even arrived he’s already set aside the best of the pickings for me. I give him the Islam greeting As-Salāmu `Alaykum , he replies wa `Alaykum As-Salām. After I’ve collected my fruit I hang out to chat with them for a bit. I’ve picked up the bulk of my Swahili slang from them.
Afterwards Hassan escorts me to the main road and I’ll bid him “tutaonana kesho” See you tomorrow, to which he reples “kama mungu anapenda” if God wish.
You know you’re in need of a cold shower when…
While hanging out with the fruit stand guys today, I mentioned I hate peeling pineapples so Hassan offered to prepare it for me.
He took out the pineapple I bought, flipped it up in the air, caught it on the edge of his machete he whipped out of his belt and skilfully began peeling it with broad swift strokes. He was so smooth with the tool and expertly made his way around the edge of the fruit while the juices dripped off his arm. I sat there starring, stupefied (and kind of turned on). If I was drooling I couldn’t tell if it was because of the sweet citrus scent of fresh pineapple hitting my nostrils or his slick motions and proficiency with the blade.
When he was through he handed me the bag of fresh pineapple and I reached for it, flustered. When I ate it later that night all I could think of was…. well it was time to take that cold shower.
Who knew peeling a pineapple could be so hot.
Day 74
Had a really long, hard day today. I’m feeling really sad and lonely right now.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
DAYS 54-64
Day 54
Guess what I came down with…
I’m writing this several days after Day 54 has passed… and this is why:
It was a bright and sunny morning and I woke up feeling hot, very very hot –and not at all in a sexy way. My skin was scorching and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the high temperature outside, or if it was my body emitting heat. The past few nights I felt myself coming down with something and popped a bunch of vits, herbs and other concoctions of Chinese medicines my grandma, who swears by it, supplied me with, hoping it would go away but whatever it was had finally caught up to me.
My body ached and head was throbbing. I could hear my quickened pulse echoing in my skull. It felt like my skeleton would snap from the weight of my skin. It hurt to move, took a lot of effort to breath and I couldn’t get myself out of bed. I felt like I had been run-down by a truck.
Baraka and I had a field assignment out of town. When he came to pick me up I was still in bed. The maid let him into the house and he made his way upstairs to see what was holding me up. I was barely conscious of his presence.
I remember a lot of chatter between him and the maid, and the annoying ringtone of his cell phone going off that made my head hurt and I remember thinking what the hell, shut up an let me get some rest! …apparently I wasn’t just thinking this and actually said this out loud, Baraka told me later.
Before I knew it I was being lifted from my bed, undressed from my nightwear, into clothes they had randomly pulled from my closet. I was too weak to put up a fuss and completely submitted myself to them. They hauled me into the project van and took me to Aga Khan Hospitali downtown.
I drifted in and out of consciousness throughout our wait, and don’t even remember the encounter with the doctor. They even pricked my finger and I didn’t flinch. The only part I remember is Baraka helping me up to leave.
“Hannah, listen to me” he said, “You have Malaria.”
I jolted to consciousness at the sound of Malaria.
“What??!!!!”
He showed me the paper with my lab results showing +’ve for Malarial parasites.
How could I have gotten Malaria??? Damn useless Larium, giving me vivid dreams and paranoia and couldn’t even prevent Malaria!!!
I lost it and began wailing hysterically, that people around me began asking “Ukimwi? Ukimwi? Is it Ukimwi?”…..
(Ukimwi means HIV+ in Swahili)
Oh geez… Nice one, Hannah! I thought. UGH!
I had contracted Malaria, but there were a low number of parasites in my blood that it was minor and treatable with Coartem. Apparently it’s like the Pill and not 100% effective. I’ll admit I missed more than a few doses … I suffered and paid for it.
Baraka managed to calm me down and told me, “It’s no big deal, I get it at least once every couple years”. To people here, it’s like a common cold and treatable as long as testing is timely and meds are taken promptly. Their bodies can handle it so long as they get treatment, but to weakling foreigners who’ve never been exposed to anything as exotic as Malaria, our bodies don’t take it as well and it really bogs you down.
“You think you feel sick now, wait t’ill you take your medicine” he warned me as he handed me my meds.
Coartem, is the universal drug you take to wipe you clean of any parasitic infestation including Malaria but really does a number on your body. It completely runs you down, and probably eats up a good chunk of your liver, but apparently very necessary, so the studies say.
I remember learning about this drug it in one of my clinical classes and thought “Oh… shit… I’m gonna be the guy straight out of a case study.”
No words can even begin to describe the ungodly feeling of discomfort and pain I was afflicted with that week. It cost me very agonizing painful nights of hell. Think of the worse fever/flu you’ve ever suffered and multiply that by a million! “Not so invincible after all,” I scolded myself.
Hoyce, the girl I’m living with, has been travelling out of town for the past few weeks and still not back yet, so I’ve been staying at the house alone. Baraka didn’t want to leave me by myself and spent the night. There is no other furniture in our house other than the beds in our bedrooms. There was no couch for him to sleep on and he didn’t want to sleep in Hoyce’s bed, so the poor guy slept in a chair beside my bed and watched me thrash in my sleep as my body processed the Coartem.
I was out of commission for the rest of the week and hated myself for it. A week of work was lost.
Day 55 --SICK--
Day 56 --SICK--
Malaria bites.
Day 57 --SICK--
To the mosquito that infected me, you suck.
Day 58 --SICK--
Down with mosquitoes!
Day 59 --SICK--
Canada Day in Tanzania
I missed the big Embassy party and spent Canada Day in bed. I had been looking forward to it all week. My fever finally broke the day before and I wanted to drag myself out of bed to attend but Baraka wouldn’t let me past the door. I activated the waterworks and he still wouldn’t budge. I was crushed I had to miss it.
Happy Birthday Canada. I miss you dearly.
Day 60 --SICK--
Day 61
Recovering….
I can now sit up without feeling dizzy and weak, and walk around on my own. The gang from the office came by to visit! They all piled in the project van and drove to my place together. I received many Pole sana’s which is an expression of sympathy in Swahili. Swahili people are very apologetic.
Day 62
Recovering…
Day 63
Recovering…
This has been the longest week EVER
Day 64
Baraka means ‘blessing’ in Swahili
Baraka has been my rock and I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without him. The maid would prepare food for me in the morning, which I didn’t have an appetite for, and Baraka would drop by in the afternoon after work, and force me to eat it. Sometimes he’d come with a thermos full of hot porridge and practically had to force-feed me to take it, it was so bland!
I can be pretty stubborn when I’m sick and I imagine I must’ve been pretty cranky too, so why he stuck around, I don’t know, but will forever be grateful and in his debt. He would stay with me the rest of the day and wouldn’t leave until I had fallen asleep. Although there were some nights I don’t think he left at all and slept in the chair by my bed and still went to work in the morning.
To express my appreciation I told him I’ll name my first-born child after him. I think he will hold me to it.
My poor, poor liver
I really hope my liver is still functional by the end of this year after the abuse it’s gotten.. I’m gonna chug milk thistle when I get home.
Guess what I came down with…
I’m writing this several days after Day 54 has passed… and this is why:
It was a bright and sunny morning and I woke up feeling hot, very very hot –and not at all in a sexy way. My skin was scorching and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the high temperature outside, or if it was my body emitting heat. The past few nights I felt myself coming down with something and popped a bunch of vits, herbs and other concoctions of Chinese medicines my grandma, who swears by it, supplied me with, hoping it would go away but whatever it was had finally caught up to me.
My body ached and head was throbbing. I could hear my quickened pulse echoing in my skull. It felt like my skeleton would snap from the weight of my skin. It hurt to move, took a lot of effort to breath and I couldn’t get myself out of bed. I felt like I had been run-down by a truck.
Baraka and I had a field assignment out of town. When he came to pick me up I was still in bed. The maid let him into the house and he made his way upstairs to see what was holding me up. I was barely conscious of his presence.
I remember a lot of chatter between him and the maid, and the annoying ringtone of his cell phone going off that made my head hurt and I remember thinking what the hell, shut up an let me get some rest! …apparently I wasn’t just thinking this and actually said this out loud, Baraka told me later.
Before I knew it I was being lifted from my bed, undressed from my nightwear, into clothes they had randomly pulled from my closet. I was too weak to put up a fuss and completely submitted myself to them. They hauled me into the project van and took me to Aga Khan Hospitali downtown.
I drifted in and out of consciousness throughout our wait, and don’t even remember the encounter with the doctor. They even pricked my finger and I didn’t flinch. The only part I remember is Baraka helping me up to leave.
“Hannah, listen to me” he said, “You have Malaria.”
I jolted to consciousness at the sound of Malaria.
“What??!!!!”
He showed me the paper with my lab results showing +’ve for Malarial parasites.
How could I have gotten Malaria??? Damn useless Larium, giving me vivid dreams and paranoia and couldn’t even prevent Malaria!!!
I lost it and began wailing hysterically, that people around me began asking “Ukimwi? Ukimwi? Is it Ukimwi?”…..
(Ukimwi means HIV+ in Swahili)
Oh geez… Nice one, Hannah! I thought. UGH!
I had contracted Malaria, but there were a low number of parasites in my blood that it was minor and treatable with Coartem. Apparently it’s like the Pill and not 100% effective. I’ll admit I missed more than a few doses … I suffered and paid for it.
Baraka managed to calm me down and told me, “It’s no big deal, I get it at least once every couple years”. To people here, it’s like a common cold and treatable as long as testing is timely and meds are taken promptly. Their bodies can handle it so long as they get treatment, but to weakling foreigners who’ve never been exposed to anything as exotic as Malaria, our bodies don’t take it as well and it really bogs you down.
“You think you feel sick now, wait t’ill you take your medicine” he warned me as he handed me my meds.
Coartem, is the universal drug you take to wipe you clean of any parasitic infestation including Malaria but really does a number on your body. It completely runs you down, and probably eats up a good chunk of your liver, but apparently very necessary, so the studies say.
I remember learning about this drug it in one of my clinical classes and thought “Oh… shit… I’m gonna be the guy straight out of a case study.”
No words can even begin to describe the ungodly feeling of discomfort and pain I was afflicted with that week. It cost me very agonizing painful nights of hell. Think of the worse fever/flu you’ve ever suffered and multiply that by a million! “Not so invincible after all,” I scolded myself.
Hoyce, the girl I’m living with, has been travelling out of town for the past few weeks and still not back yet, so I’ve been staying at the house alone. Baraka didn’t want to leave me by myself and spent the night. There is no other furniture in our house other than the beds in our bedrooms. There was no couch for him to sleep on and he didn’t want to sleep in Hoyce’s bed, so the poor guy slept in a chair beside my bed and watched me thrash in my sleep as my body processed the Coartem.
I was out of commission for the rest of the week and hated myself for it. A week of work was lost.
Day 55 --SICK--
Day 56 --SICK--
Malaria bites.
Day 57 --SICK--
To the mosquito that infected me, you suck.
Day 58 --SICK--
Down with mosquitoes!
Day 59 --SICK--
Canada Day in Tanzania
I missed the big Embassy party and spent Canada Day in bed. I had been looking forward to it all week. My fever finally broke the day before and I wanted to drag myself out of bed to attend but Baraka wouldn’t let me past the door. I activated the waterworks and he still wouldn’t budge. I was crushed I had to miss it.
Happy Birthday Canada. I miss you dearly.
Day 60 --SICK--
Day 61
Recovering….
I can now sit up without feeling dizzy and weak, and walk around on my own. The gang from the office came by to visit! They all piled in the project van and drove to my place together. I received many Pole sana’s which is an expression of sympathy in Swahili. Swahili people are very apologetic.
Day 62
Recovering…
Day 63
Recovering…
This has been the longest week EVER
Day 64
Baraka means ‘blessing’ in Swahili
Baraka has been my rock and I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without him. The maid would prepare food for me in the morning, which I didn’t have an appetite for, and Baraka would drop by in the afternoon after work, and force me to eat it. Sometimes he’d come with a thermos full of hot porridge and practically had to force-feed me to take it, it was so bland!
I can be pretty stubborn when I’m sick and I imagine I must’ve been pretty cranky too, so why he stuck around, I don’t know, but will forever be grateful and in his debt. He would stay with me the rest of the day and wouldn’t leave until I had fallen asleep. Although there were some nights I don’t think he left at all and slept in the chair by my bed and still went to work in the morning.
To express my appreciation I told him I’ll name my first-born child after him. I think he will hold me to it.
My poor, poor liver
I really hope my liver is still functional by the end of this year after the abuse it’s gotten.. I’m gonna chug milk thistle when I get home.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
DAYS 41 – 53
Day 41
Realizing my worst fear
After tonight I have realized my worst fear is that something bad would happen at home and I couldn’t be there for my family. My mom called me at 11 am my time (4am Toronto time) to let me know my sister Sarah was in the ER. She said she needed emergency surgery but wouldn’t elaborate how serious it was and abruptly hung up the line. I couldn’t concentrate at work, and tried to text my parents throughout the day to find out what was happening.
When I got home, I went insane trying to get a hold of them but they weren’t answering my calls or texts. I was beside myself with worry thinking the worse had happened but all I could do was pace in my room wishing there was some way I could teleport myself back home.
She’s the only one left at home. My youngest sister, Christine is travelling for the summer and going to University in Ottawa, and I had also gone away to University. Christine and I both left for our travels at the same time, leaving Sarah who’s been lonely.
Just earlier this week she called me and was crying on the phone, emotional about relationships and didn’t have neither Christine nor I to lean on. I’ve lived a good number of years away from home but home was just a train ride away. Now everything is so far off and out of reach I’m feeling disconnected from everyone and wishing I could just hop on a train and be back in a few hours.
Christine and I were networking from across the globe, messaging back and forth updates on what we had found out. There was nothing else to do but wait for news to arrive. It was a strenuous night, and I was ready to book a flight home when I finally got word that she was going to be ok.
The threat of something bad happening has now made me worried and paranoid at the prospect.
Day 42
Weekend getaway in the country
Jeff, the American I met on the plane sprung an invitation for me to visit him in Morogoro, which is about 200 km inland, east of Dar es Salaam. He’s working in Malaria research for an American biomedical research company and has been travelling with his clinic all over the country.
He’s a really easy-going guy, very funny and charismatic, we clicked right away and became fast friends during the plane ride to Dar. We’ve been emailing back and forth and calling to compare notes about our various encounters with the locals here. This is the first weekend he’s had off to stay in town so he invited me to spend the weekend there and check out the sites.
I rode for 2 ½ hours on a very cramped, hot, smelly bus. It made riding the Greyhound seem so luxurious! The buses are much smaller than the Greyhound coaches, and made to seat 3 people instead of 2 in a row. They have a special deal where you pay half price but have to stand and hang onto the overhead rack the entire way, which a few people did. A round trip ticket costs the equivalent of about $8 Canadian. The same distance from Toronto to Windsor/London would cost over $100 Cdn round trip!
As usual I was the only foreigner on the bus and as soon as I got on, I could hear everyone murmuring and whispering “look an Mchina just got on the bus… look at the Mchina... look there’s an Mchina on the bus!”. I made sure to equip myself with Gravol out of fear my nausea would kick in and took double the dose to knock myself out so I could sleep through the ride.
I left at about 3:30pm, and arrived after 6pm. As soon as I got off the bus I was bombarded with peddlers trying to sell me corn and peanuts, and taxi cab drivers pulling at my arm to try to get me into a taxi. I was already groggy from the double dose of Gravol, and feeling disoriented with the mob that was crowding me. Just when I was about to panic Jeff came to my rescue.
He picked me up in his company’s project car, and drove me to Morogoro hospital. He showed me the lab he’s working out of and it looked like the orgo labs right out of university, and surprisingly pretty well equipped with up-to-date technology. He showed me around other parts of the hospital including the morgue where a lot of young children had just been brought in that day most likely from Malaria. The death toll from Malaria is much higher than AIDS.
He took me to a popular hangout where a lot of expats and foreigners go. When we got there I had the same weird feeling I got when I was at the mall in Dar and it felt like we had temporarily stepped out of Africa. There was a fairly large group from Sweden, a few Brits, one German, a couple Americans and Canadians –a good mix of everything. Ethnically speaking I was the only Asian of the bunch.
When we got to talking with everyone, it was interesting to hear about their “pet cause”. Mine I suppose is HIV/AIDS, Jeff’s is Malaria, there were a few teachers in the group, American Peacecorp volunteers, while others did work ranging from other infectious diseases, to Women’s Rights, to training rats to sniff out landmines. We exchanged business cards at the end of the night and offered whatever support we could lend to each other during our stay.
Day 43
Day II in Morogoro
I actually used a blanket to sleep and woke up shivering in the morning! I’ve gotten so used to Dar es Salaam heat, and didn’t expect to be chilly in Morogoro. I woke up and Jeff already had a pot of coffee brewing. The place he’s staying in is a small house on the Nyombosi University Campus, which is their agricultural university, comparable to Ontario’s Guelph University.
The sun was still rising when we left his place and the site of the mountains as we walked down the path was absolutely breathtaking. Morogoro is enveloped in mountains and the weather is very temperate. I love the fast-paced city life, but walking through the country roads of Morogoro with the beautiful backdrop of mountains was a nice refreshing change of pace from Dar.
He took me to a cute little place in town to have chai and chipate for breakfast and it was the perfect start to the day. We then met with his co-worker Geoff, who is Kenyan and also doing research at Morogoro Hospital. We met up with 2 other friends of Geoff’s, who offered to be our guides for the day. We hiked up one of the smaller mountain peaks hoping to see monkeys and other wildlife but none made an appearance. We did see a lot of weird bugs and huge snails.
An American, Canadian, Kenyan & Tanzanian Maasai
It was noon by the time we got back down so we grabbed a quick bite to eat. The next item on our itinerary was to venture out to the Maasai villages. We headed out in a truck, with two guys riding in the back at full speed along the country roads. We were going as fast as 140km and I impulsively looked out back every now and then to make sure the guys were still there!
An hour later we arrived at a small Maasai village. The guys were awesome as our guides and took our cameras from us to take pictures with so we wouldn’t have to worry about holding them. It seemed a little awkward at first but they insisted it would be better this way, and I think they were having fun with our cameras. They followed Jeff and I, snapping away like paparazzi, as we walked through to browse at the market.
It didn’t take long to attract attention and pretty soon a crowd formed around us. Jeff read my mind when he said out loud “So this is how it feels to be a rock star”. I don’t at all enjoy the attention in Dar cause it’s usually from guys trying to make a pass at you, but with the guys and Jeff by my side, I didn’t feel as self conscious and more secure despite the mob that was forming.
A guy wheeled through a wagon full of coconuts and Jeff got us some. When the guy handed me the coconut, I asked for a straw. He gave me a blank stare.
We bought a few items, which the guys helped us bargain for. We found that if we sent our Tanzanian friends over to the stand to ask for their prices, it suddenly inflated when it was Jeff or I who went next to ask cause they were charging the ‘Mzungu’ price. Jeff and I both bought Kangas which are the African style printed material women here use as either shawls or wrap-around skirts.
We also bought Maasai beads that we later learned are sexual trinkets they use during lovemaking. The women use the beads to attract men, and the men play with them on the woman’s body. It was pretty interesting to hear about their sex practices with these beads and how certain tribes are notorious for being an ‘expert’ user of these beads and using them to please their partner. I’m afraid of wearing mine now thinking it’ll attract the wrong kind of attention from the males here.
Winding down
Later that evening we had dinner at Rock Garden, which is a popular place for locals to go hangout on a Saturday night. You eat out doors and then dance out on the rocks. After the eating and dancing I felt tired and thought for sure we had hit the midnight mark but looked at my watch in bewilderment that it was only 9pm! The guys were still drinking but fortunately Jeff was tiring out too and threw in the towel with me.
We stopped by his lab so he can check up on test tubes, pitri dishes and whatnot while I tinkered on his computer and looked at the pictures we had taken that day. The candid shots the guides took of us were priceless. I don’t think I’ve squeezed so much activity into one day!
Monkey see, Monkey throw
We got back to his place to find there was no running water. While waiting for water to come back on we decided to go outside to see if there were monkeys. Jeff said they usually come out at night to feed on the crops, and sure enough there they were in the trees eating corn with their opposable thumbs just like humans do! They were teething right across the cob like people it was surreal!
We didn’t take pictures afraid the flash would scare them away and tried to remain inconspicuous. They were very conscious of our presence and when they were done decided to make this apparent by throwing the cobs at us!
When we got back to the house there was still no running water and we had to go to bed dirty, it drove me nuts, but Jeff didn’t seem to care. “Suck it up, this is Africa.” He reminded me.
Day 44
Weekend getaway ends
We woke up and there was still no running water. I brushed my teeth and rinsed with what was left of the water in my bottle and got dressed. We walked through town, got brunch and Jeff dropped me off at the bus station so I could head back to Dar early. I don’t know how I would’ve handled the bus ride home without knocking myself out with Gravol, there were chickens riding on the bus with us clucking and flapping and smelling real bad!
I got into Dar later that afternoon and Baraka picked me up at the bus station. I was so eager to get home and finally shower but Baraka insisted I stay over at his place for dinner. I showed him the stuff I bought and he spotted the Maasai beads. He shot me a sly grin and asked if I knew what they were for.. I had forgotten he was Maasai. I blushed and quickly put them away and he laughed at me.
We had rice and beans for dinner and after he took me home. As soon as he left I made a beeline for the shower and savoured every cold droplet that came from the tap.
Day 45
Arusha crew comes to Dar!
The other Canadian Cooperants from my training group, stationed in Arusha have flown down to Dar for the week to attend an HIV/AIDS delegates meeting. They are 3 other girls, Andrea, Mary & Madeline also working in HIV/AIDS programming and development. I was the only one assigned to Dar while the other three are together in Arusha so it’s been lonely not having other friends to see and do stuff with. It’s their first visit to Dar so I’ll be showing them around.
We grew close during our pre-departure training in Ottawa and we were each other’s support when we were waiting to leave. They were the first to receive their work permits and visa and have been here since January. I had major issues with my visa and it took forever to have my work permit approved so I was the very last one to depart.
They’re older and more experienced than I am in the world of international development. I was the youngest Cooperant in our group so they’ve been like my big sisters coaching me on how to deal with the issues we’re up against and looking out for me. They’ve also been teaching me bad words and retorts in Swahili for when men are harassing me.. but I don’t think I have the guts to try it out!
They share a house in Arusha but work for different NGO’s. In some ways I’m envious of them cause they have each other to lean on in Arusha. But on the other hand, being alone here in Dar has forced me to become independent and immerse myself with the locals than if I had been stationed with a group.
Day 46
HIV/AIDS delegates meeting in Dar es Salaam
It’s a three-day meeting paid for by CIDA (Canadian International Development Agency) devoted to assessing, monitoring and revamping our HIV/AIDS partner programmes. It’s Ottawa's way of keeping tabs on us and make sure the work we’re doing suits the interest of Canada. In total there were 9 NGO partners represented at the meeting.
The early sessions began with a review of the National Strategy on HIV/AIDS. There are 3 basic pillars through which various issues are addressed and policies are set in place.
1) Reduce Mortality for those already positive
2) Prevention –those who are negative stay negative
3) Eliminate stigma –through education and transmittal literacy
Next we went over current and pressing issues:
Generic ARV’s shipped from India, have been killing people instead of helping them. People have found their CD4 count drops even lower with the use of these particular drugs and they suffer severe side effects including nausea vomiting and migraines so there’s been a big amount of lobbying and advocacy to pull these drugs off the market and pull in other generics.
Nevirapine, a pharma cocktail for pregnant mothers to prevent MTCT (mother to child transmission) is another area of concern. There is still a high percentage that the baby will test HIV+, and when they do they are completely screwed if their mother has been on this drug because they develop a resistance to ARV’s and will be lucky to see their 2nd birthday.
Babies are safe from infection inside the womb as the virus does not cross the placental barrier and amniotic fluid is safe from infection. The risk of infection occurs during the passage through the birth canal so caesarean births would normally help prevent transmittal. But unlike in North America, caesarean sections here are costly and not as widely performed to prevent the transmittal of infection from mother to child.
Additionally, some mothers don’t even know they’re positive and give birth, and breastfeed not knowing they have passed on the infection to their child until it’s too late. There’s more research in the works for prevention of MTCT including focusing on STI (sexually transmitted infections) prevention as it’s been found STI’s increase risk of HIV.
My very own alma mater, Western, has also contributed to HIV/AIDS research and conducted studies using probiotic bacteria in yogurt and incorporating it into the diet, as another measure for prevention in MTCT.
The first ever annual National testing day is this coming July 14. There will be a series of outreach campaigns and mobile clinics to encourage testing so people are aware of their sero status. Currently the literature reads that over 90% of HIV+ people, are positive, but don’t know it. We’ve been warned that when we’re infield we would have to ‘stage’ testing and have our own blood drawn to encourage others to join us.
The issue of deliberate infection also came up. Unlike in Canada there is no law yet in place in Tanzania for those who deliberately infect their partner.
Day 47
Arrrgh bureaucracy!
The next two days are devoted to meetings with representatives of TACAIDS and the UN. Today’s meetings were primarily spent arguing over words and which way arrows should point on a flow chart. There’s a massive difference between “facilitating” and “mitigating” HIV/AIDS treatment, and don’t even get me started on the difference between “scaling up” and “stepping up” prevention efforts, one will have a completely different connotation from the other.
I know these things are necessary but hate the tedious process where they nit pick at every other word and argue over semantics when in the end the general population will get the basic gist from “scaling up” vs. “stepping up”. And when you’re engaged in discussions with hotshots from the UN or National Commission they seem to be enamoured with the sound of their own voice and drone on endlessly.
It’s a small world after all
During the meeting I met Dennis, another Canadian who’s been living in Dar for the past 5 years. He did his Masters at the Unviersity of Dar es Salaam and has been living in Tanzania ever since. He just signed on as a Cooperant with Friends of Tanzania, an orphanage for children who have lost their parents to HIV/AIDS.
He wasn’t available during my orientation the first week I got here so we only met each other during this week’s meeting. After five years of living here his Swahili is very fluent, and he’s pretty settled into Tanzanian life and doesn’t look like he wants to leave after his contract is up. He’s very well travelled and very well connected and has a contact in almost every major city in every major country in Africa.
It turns out we both did went to Western and he graduated only 2 years before I did!! Weird how we never collided on campus all that time, but should find each other on the other side of the globe working in the same city and country!
Day 48
Is blue still my color?
I’ve aspired to work for the UN WHO or WFP but the more exposure I have to the UN the more I feel I’m not cut out for the cutthroat politics involved. I love working on the front-line with people, but hate the other aspect of the work including the bureaucracy and red tape, which I know is unavoidable. With all the meticulous detail they are caught up in, I can also see how easy it is to lose sight of the actual problem.
Calling all Canadians in Tanzania
I’ve been invited by the embassy to attend a Canada Day party at the Canadian Ambassador’s Residence next weekend. When I got the call and they identified themselves as the Canadian High Commission, I froze, thinking they were delivering bad news. I laughed with relief when all it was, was an invitation to the Canada Day celebration. It will be my first Canada Day away from Canada and I’m looking forward to the night out.
Day 49
Day at the Orphanage
We spent the day surveying two of the partner NGO’s including Friends of Tanzania, and Kiota Women Health and Development Organization. Friends of Tanzania is a newly established orphanage Dennis is working for. They take in orphaned children whose parents have died from HIV/AIDS.
There are about 16 children currently living in the residence, and in total over 30 have gone through and had either placed in a home, or died from AIDS. Half the current children have tested HIV + and 5 of them are on ARVs. Despite their conditions, they were like any other kids, happy and carefree.
I have a soft spot when it comes to children. To be born under circumstances of poverty is already hard as it is. But to be afflicted with a deadly virus ravaging through their veins robbing them at a chance to have a life at all, no matter how impoverish, is like a punch in the stomach.
The Mama’s of the house prepped the kids to perform for us a series of traditional dances they’ve been working on. Those kids got moves! They were shaking their hips like there was no tomorrow. There was a little girl who was particularly clingy to me and had the most beautiful smile. Her name was Mali (like the country), I thought, how apropos, I’ve been there.
I told Dennis I’ll be dropping by often to play with the kids.
Day 50
Arusha crew goes to Kariakoo
The girls wanted to load up on supplies while they’re here cause everything is much more expensive in Arusha so I took them to Kariakoo. The UN office being in Arusha has pushed up the standard of living with all the expats and foreigners living in the city and prices are jacked very high. It costs the equivalent of $15 Cdn for a regular sized bottle of shampoo –that’s 3 times as much as what you’d pay back home! A mango costs 2000/ TZ shillings whereas in Dar it’s 500/.
Andrea was a powerhouse when it came to bartering. She was relentless with the vendors and at one point had them running after her when they succumbed to the price she set, as she turned to stage a walk-away. I’m afraid I’m not as aggressive a bargainer as she.
Arusha v. Dar es Salaam
This week the TZ Canadian crew and I kept debating which was a better placement between Arusha and Dar.
– 1 AR: Being expensive was definitely a hit against them
+ 1 AR: There are more expats from the UN office, foreigners and tourists in Arusha so the locals there are used to the different faces and don’t tend to hassle the foreigners as much as they do here in Dar.
+5 AR: Arusha also has all the national parks and close to all the tourist attractions like Safari, Serengetti, Ngorongoro Crater, Rift Valley, Olduvai Jorge, Volcanoes, Hot air ballooning over Moshi, and of course mount Kilimanjaro.
– 2 AR: But you can only do each of those things once and it gets very expensive since they’ve set the prices for foreigners
+ 2 AR: It’s closer to the boarders of Uganda, Congo, and Kenya if you want a weekend getaway somewhere or travel all over East Africa
+ 1 AR: it’s much cooler and temperate being at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro and they’re going through their cold season, which can drop as low as 5 Celsius at night
– 1 AR: you need to pack a lot of warm clothing and use warm blankets at night
TOTAL ARUSHA = 5
+ 3 DSM: City life in Dar is much better and more to do in terms of night life- more places to eat, hang out and go clubbing
– 1 DSM: No moderate temperatures in Dar, just sweltering heat year round. Even during their “cold season” which we’ve entered right now, it’s still about 30+. I’m loving the heat now but when November rolls around and it’s 40+ every single day, don’t know how much I’ll be enjoying the heat then.
+1 DSM: On the other hand, packing for Dar was lighter and simpler –lots of tank tops, tube tops, sarongs, skirts & shorts. No jeans, or heavy clothing, which would’ve weighed my suitcases down
– 1 DSM: Not as much foreigners here as in Arusha and you get hassled more
+ 1 DSM: Dar is cheaper than Arusha. I’ve gotten by on spending no more than the equivalent of $5 Cdn a day!
+ 1 DAR: We’ve got beaches
+ 1 DAR: We’re closer to Zanzibar if you need a weekend getaway
+ 1 DAR: Dar is Tanzania’s Toronto.. enough said.
TOTAL DAR = 6
<<`DAR WINS!!!`>>
In the short amount of time I’ve been living here so far, Dar has grown on me and everyday I fall more in love with the city. I’m really glad I was assigned here even if I’m out here alone cause it’s given me a different experience altogether and hopefully in the end I’ll come out stronger.
Day 51
Arusha crew returns =(
Said goodbye to the girls before they flew back to Arusha. I had so much fun with them while they were here and really needed the pick-me-up and encouragement from them. They also enjoyed their time here in Dar and we went out every night for food, dancing, drinking and good times all around. Now that they’ve had a taste of Dar, they’ll be coming to visit more often. It’s an 8 hour bus ride/2 hr flight, but they’ve fallen in love with the city just like I did and will be back for more!
Jehova’s a mama!!
Jehova gave birth to a baby girl and is naming her after me!! Well it’s not her first name, but her second name is good enough for me! Welcome Faith Hannah John Mkonye into the world! It’s her first child and everyone’s been excited anticipating its arrival. Baraka, who is thrilled to be an uncle, took me to visit them in their home and we took turns fussing over the baby.
Jehova has had malaria twice during the course of her pregnancy and took malaria meds. It doesn’t appear to have affected the baby but it’s still early to tell. Pregnant women are more vulnerable to malaria than women who aren’t pregnant.
I had brought a bundle of Canadian stuff with me to give away as gifts including flags, buttons and pins that my MP office supplied me with, as well as t-shirts, Frisbees, nerf balls and teddy bears with “Canada” or the maple leaf imprinted on it. I gave a cute little plush teddy bear that had a maple leaf stitched on its tummy, as a gift to the baby. Jehova was delighted to receive it and said it will be a wonderful memory of me when I leave.
Day 52
Vivid Dreams part II
I need to come off Larium. I dreamt a pack of monkeys got through my window and invaded my room. When I woke up and looked out my window, I did a double take when I actually saw a monkey walking along the rail of my balcony. I wasn’t sure if I was delusional from my dream or if I really saw a real monkey. I asked the maid if there are monkeys around here and she said there are a few living in the trees in our yard. Maybe I wasn’t seeing things after all.
I learned from Jeff who’s area of expertise is Malaria, that after prolonged use of Larium, the side effects -particularly vivid dreams, continue to manifest long after you stop taking it…. great.... that’s just great.. so I’ll be off Malaria drugs when I get back home but will still dream of monkey invasions. Lovely.
Cross-cultural learning 101: Flashing somebody
Baraka and I hiked out to Coco Beach together and it was the perfect way to spend a breezy Sunday afternoon. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the ocean view.
When we got back Baraka dropped me off at my front door as usual, then said “Flash me if you want me to call you tonight,” “huh?!!” was he seriously asking me to flash him? “You don’t want me to call?” he asked, “You want me to flash you?” I returned. “Then how will I know to call you?” … hmmm, maybe ‘flash’ means something else… “Ok, how do I flash you?” I asked with caution, “Just ring once and I’ll call you right back!” OOOooooohhhhh, he wants me to flash him… so I did.
I always wondered why people were calling me and hanging up… .. now I know why!
Day 53
I’ve fallen in love with a boy named Pili
A PLHA member of TANOPHA brought a boy named Pili into the office. She was a neighbour who knew his parents, both who have died of AIDS and the other children were divided among the other relatives and this boy was the only one remaining, abandoned in the house.
He was most likely the sickest of the bunch so no one wanted could afford the cost of taking him in. A PLHA herself with children of her own, she couldn’t take him in and asked us to place him in an orphanage that would cover the cost of his care and possibly even education should he get better later on.
He was short, boney, wearing tattered clothing, very small and weak, and looked like he was 5 years old. I learned he was actually closer to 10 years. When she handed him over and turned to leave, he began whimpering, unsure of what was going on and the look of despair in his eyes was heart breaking.
Bruno began making calls to see where we can take the boy. When the Chairman, Mr. Kaaya came he asked what the situation was and without a second thought said he would take the boy in. He is HIV positive himself, married but with no children of his own. He is the founder of TANOPHA and has already taken in 2 other orphaned children, a boy and girl. Pili will be the 3rd child in his care.
Mr. Kaaya had errands to run throughout the day before he could take the boy home with him. I had no field assignments and would be in the office all day so offered to look after the boy in the meantime. I motioned for him to come over to where I was sitting. He gingerly walked over and sat with me. He already felt warm from a lingering fever. I pulled out some scrap paper to do origami, remembering it was a big hit with the kids in Mali. He sat on my lap bright eyed as I transformed paper into a crane, frog and boat.
He seemed to accept whatever his fate was at this point. He was so innocent, trusting and willing to be nurtured and cared for I wish I had the power to shield him and all the other children in his shoes, from the cruel world. Just looking at him there was no doubt he was HIV+ and didn’t look to be in great shape even if he were already taking ARV’s.
As we sat there together I felt so sad and wondered if he would live through the year even under Mr. Kaaya’s care. I learned later that day Mr. Kaaya had to admit him in the hospital because when he brought him home he was too sick even take food. His CD4 count had already dropped below 100 and wasn’t on ARV’s as I suspected.
They put him on cocktails right away and administered enteral feed, but he’s already progressed so far, he’s essentially surpassed the point of AIDS and it will just be a matter of time before what’s left of his immunity will completely deteriorate.
He doesn’t deserve this. It’s just not fair..
Realizing my worst fear
After tonight I have realized my worst fear is that something bad would happen at home and I couldn’t be there for my family. My mom called me at 11 am my time (4am Toronto time) to let me know my sister Sarah was in the ER. She said she needed emergency surgery but wouldn’t elaborate how serious it was and abruptly hung up the line. I couldn’t concentrate at work, and tried to text my parents throughout the day to find out what was happening.
When I got home, I went insane trying to get a hold of them but they weren’t answering my calls or texts. I was beside myself with worry thinking the worse had happened but all I could do was pace in my room wishing there was some way I could teleport myself back home.
She’s the only one left at home. My youngest sister, Christine is travelling for the summer and going to University in Ottawa, and I had also gone away to University. Christine and I both left for our travels at the same time, leaving Sarah who’s been lonely.
Just earlier this week she called me and was crying on the phone, emotional about relationships and didn’t have neither Christine nor I to lean on. I’ve lived a good number of years away from home but home was just a train ride away. Now everything is so far off and out of reach I’m feeling disconnected from everyone and wishing I could just hop on a train and be back in a few hours.
Christine and I were networking from across the globe, messaging back and forth updates on what we had found out. There was nothing else to do but wait for news to arrive. It was a strenuous night, and I was ready to book a flight home when I finally got word that she was going to be ok.
The threat of something bad happening has now made me worried and paranoid at the prospect.
Day 42
Weekend getaway in the country
Jeff, the American I met on the plane sprung an invitation for me to visit him in Morogoro, which is about 200 km inland, east of Dar es Salaam. He’s working in Malaria research for an American biomedical research company and has been travelling with his clinic all over the country.
He’s a really easy-going guy, very funny and charismatic, we clicked right away and became fast friends during the plane ride to Dar. We’ve been emailing back and forth and calling to compare notes about our various encounters with the locals here. This is the first weekend he’s had off to stay in town so he invited me to spend the weekend there and check out the sites.
I rode for 2 ½ hours on a very cramped, hot, smelly bus. It made riding the Greyhound seem so luxurious! The buses are much smaller than the Greyhound coaches, and made to seat 3 people instead of 2 in a row. They have a special deal where you pay half price but have to stand and hang onto the overhead rack the entire way, which a few people did. A round trip ticket costs the equivalent of about $8 Canadian. The same distance from Toronto to Windsor/London would cost over $100 Cdn round trip!
As usual I was the only foreigner on the bus and as soon as I got on, I could hear everyone murmuring and whispering “look an Mchina just got on the bus… look at the Mchina... look there’s an Mchina on the bus!”. I made sure to equip myself with Gravol out of fear my nausea would kick in and took double the dose to knock myself out so I could sleep through the ride.
I left at about 3:30pm, and arrived after 6pm. As soon as I got off the bus I was bombarded with peddlers trying to sell me corn and peanuts, and taxi cab drivers pulling at my arm to try to get me into a taxi. I was already groggy from the double dose of Gravol, and feeling disoriented with the mob that was crowding me. Just when I was about to panic Jeff came to my rescue.
He picked me up in his company’s project car, and drove me to Morogoro hospital. He showed me the lab he’s working out of and it looked like the orgo labs right out of university, and surprisingly pretty well equipped with up-to-date technology. He showed me around other parts of the hospital including the morgue where a lot of young children had just been brought in that day most likely from Malaria. The death toll from Malaria is much higher than AIDS.
He took me to a popular hangout where a lot of expats and foreigners go. When we got there I had the same weird feeling I got when I was at the mall in Dar and it felt like we had temporarily stepped out of Africa. There was a fairly large group from Sweden, a few Brits, one German, a couple Americans and Canadians –a good mix of everything. Ethnically speaking I was the only Asian of the bunch.
When we got to talking with everyone, it was interesting to hear about their “pet cause”. Mine I suppose is HIV/AIDS, Jeff’s is Malaria, there were a few teachers in the group, American Peacecorp volunteers, while others did work ranging from other infectious diseases, to Women’s Rights, to training rats to sniff out landmines. We exchanged business cards at the end of the night and offered whatever support we could lend to each other during our stay.
Day 43
Day II in Morogoro
I actually used a blanket to sleep and woke up shivering in the morning! I’ve gotten so used to Dar es Salaam heat, and didn’t expect to be chilly in Morogoro. I woke up and Jeff already had a pot of coffee brewing. The place he’s staying in is a small house on the Nyombosi University Campus, which is their agricultural university, comparable to Ontario’s Guelph University.
The sun was still rising when we left his place and the site of the mountains as we walked down the path was absolutely breathtaking. Morogoro is enveloped in mountains and the weather is very temperate. I love the fast-paced city life, but walking through the country roads of Morogoro with the beautiful backdrop of mountains was a nice refreshing change of pace from Dar.
He took me to a cute little place in town to have chai and chipate for breakfast and it was the perfect start to the day. We then met with his co-worker Geoff, who is Kenyan and also doing research at Morogoro Hospital. We met up with 2 other friends of Geoff’s, who offered to be our guides for the day. We hiked up one of the smaller mountain peaks hoping to see monkeys and other wildlife but none made an appearance. We did see a lot of weird bugs and huge snails.
An American, Canadian, Kenyan & Tanzanian Maasai
It was noon by the time we got back down so we grabbed a quick bite to eat. The next item on our itinerary was to venture out to the Maasai villages. We headed out in a truck, with two guys riding in the back at full speed along the country roads. We were going as fast as 140km and I impulsively looked out back every now and then to make sure the guys were still there!
An hour later we arrived at a small Maasai village. The guys were awesome as our guides and took our cameras from us to take pictures with so we wouldn’t have to worry about holding them. It seemed a little awkward at first but they insisted it would be better this way, and I think they were having fun with our cameras. They followed Jeff and I, snapping away like paparazzi, as we walked through to browse at the market.
It didn’t take long to attract attention and pretty soon a crowd formed around us. Jeff read my mind when he said out loud “So this is how it feels to be a rock star”. I don’t at all enjoy the attention in Dar cause it’s usually from guys trying to make a pass at you, but with the guys and Jeff by my side, I didn’t feel as self conscious and more secure despite the mob that was forming.
A guy wheeled through a wagon full of coconuts and Jeff got us some. When the guy handed me the coconut, I asked for a straw. He gave me a blank stare.
We bought a few items, which the guys helped us bargain for. We found that if we sent our Tanzanian friends over to the stand to ask for their prices, it suddenly inflated when it was Jeff or I who went next to ask cause they were charging the ‘Mzungu’ price. Jeff and I both bought Kangas which are the African style printed material women here use as either shawls or wrap-around skirts.
We also bought Maasai beads that we later learned are sexual trinkets they use during lovemaking. The women use the beads to attract men, and the men play with them on the woman’s body. It was pretty interesting to hear about their sex practices with these beads and how certain tribes are notorious for being an ‘expert’ user of these beads and using them to please their partner. I’m afraid of wearing mine now thinking it’ll attract the wrong kind of attention from the males here.
Winding down
Later that evening we had dinner at Rock Garden, which is a popular place for locals to go hangout on a Saturday night. You eat out doors and then dance out on the rocks. After the eating and dancing I felt tired and thought for sure we had hit the midnight mark but looked at my watch in bewilderment that it was only 9pm! The guys were still drinking but fortunately Jeff was tiring out too and threw in the towel with me.
We stopped by his lab so he can check up on test tubes, pitri dishes and whatnot while I tinkered on his computer and looked at the pictures we had taken that day. The candid shots the guides took of us were priceless. I don’t think I’ve squeezed so much activity into one day!
Monkey see, Monkey throw
We got back to his place to find there was no running water. While waiting for water to come back on we decided to go outside to see if there were monkeys. Jeff said they usually come out at night to feed on the crops, and sure enough there they were in the trees eating corn with their opposable thumbs just like humans do! They were teething right across the cob like people it was surreal!
We didn’t take pictures afraid the flash would scare them away and tried to remain inconspicuous. They were very conscious of our presence and when they were done decided to make this apparent by throwing the cobs at us!
When we got back to the house there was still no running water and we had to go to bed dirty, it drove me nuts, but Jeff didn’t seem to care. “Suck it up, this is Africa.” He reminded me.
Day 44
Weekend getaway ends
We woke up and there was still no running water. I brushed my teeth and rinsed with what was left of the water in my bottle and got dressed. We walked through town, got brunch and Jeff dropped me off at the bus station so I could head back to Dar early. I don’t know how I would’ve handled the bus ride home without knocking myself out with Gravol, there were chickens riding on the bus with us clucking and flapping and smelling real bad!
I got into Dar later that afternoon and Baraka picked me up at the bus station. I was so eager to get home and finally shower but Baraka insisted I stay over at his place for dinner. I showed him the stuff I bought and he spotted the Maasai beads. He shot me a sly grin and asked if I knew what they were for.. I had forgotten he was Maasai. I blushed and quickly put them away and he laughed at me.
We had rice and beans for dinner and after he took me home. As soon as he left I made a beeline for the shower and savoured every cold droplet that came from the tap.
Day 45
Arusha crew comes to Dar!
The other Canadian Cooperants from my training group, stationed in Arusha have flown down to Dar for the week to attend an HIV/AIDS delegates meeting. They are 3 other girls, Andrea, Mary & Madeline also working in HIV/AIDS programming and development. I was the only one assigned to Dar while the other three are together in Arusha so it’s been lonely not having other friends to see and do stuff with. It’s their first visit to Dar so I’ll be showing them around.
We grew close during our pre-departure training in Ottawa and we were each other’s support when we were waiting to leave. They were the first to receive their work permits and visa and have been here since January. I had major issues with my visa and it took forever to have my work permit approved so I was the very last one to depart.
They’re older and more experienced than I am in the world of international development. I was the youngest Cooperant in our group so they’ve been like my big sisters coaching me on how to deal with the issues we’re up against and looking out for me. They’ve also been teaching me bad words and retorts in Swahili for when men are harassing me.. but I don’t think I have the guts to try it out!
They share a house in Arusha but work for different NGO’s. In some ways I’m envious of them cause they have each other to lean on in Arusha. But on the other hand, being alone here in Dar has forced me to become independent and immerse myself with the locals than if I had been stationed with a group.
Day 46
HIV/AIDS delegates meeting in Dar es Salaam
It’s a three-day meeting paid for by CIDA (Canadian International Development Agency) devoted to assessing, monitoring and revamping our HIV/AIDS partner programmes. It’s Ottawa's way of keeping tabs on us and make sure the work we’re doing suits the interest of Canada. In total there were 9 NGO partners represented at the meeting.
The early sessions began with a review of the National Strategy on HIV/AIDS. There are 3 basic pillars through which various issues are addressed and policies are set in place.
1) Reduce Mortality for those already positive
2) Prevention –those who are negative stay negative
3) Eliminate stigma –through education and transmittal literacy
Next we went over current and pressing issues:
Generic ARV’s shipped from India, have been killing people instead of helping them. People have found their CD4 count drops even lower with the use of these particular drugs and they suffer severe side effects including nausea vomiting and migraines so there’s been a big amount of lobbying and advocacy to pull these drugs off the market and pull in other generics.
Nevirapine, a pharma cocktail for pregnant mothers to prevent MTCT (mother to child transmission) is another area of concern. There is still a high percentage that the baby will test HIV+, and when they do they are completely screwed if their mother has been on this drug because they develop a resistance to ARV’s and will be lucky to see their 2nd birthday.
Babies are safe from infection inside the womb as the virus does not cross the placental barrier and amniotic fluid is safe from infection. The risk of infection occurs during the passage through the birth canal so caesarean births would normally help prevent transmittal. But unlike in North America, caesarean sections here are costly and not as widely performed to prevent the transmittal of infection from mother to child.
Additionally, some mothers don’t even know they’re positive and give birth, and breastfeed not knowing they have passed on the infection to their child until it’s too late. There’s more research in the works for prevention of MTCT including focusing on STI (sexually transmitted infections) prevention as it’s been found STI’s increase risk of HIV.
My very own alma mater, Western, has also contributed to HIV/AIDS research and conducted studies using probiotic bacteria in yogurt and incorporating it into the diet, as another measure for prevention in MTCT.
The first ever annual National testing day is this coming July 14. There will be a series of outreach campaigns and mobile clinics to encourage testing so people are aware of their sero status. Currently the literature reads that over 90% of HIV+ people, are positive, but don’t know it. We’ve been warned that when we’re infield we would have to ‘stage’ testing and have our own blood drawn to encourage others to join us.
The issue of deliberate infection also came up. Unlike in Canada there is no law yet in place in Tanzania for those who deliberately infect their partner.
Day 47
Arrrgh bureaucracy!
The next two days are devoted to meetings with representatives of TACAIDS and the UN. Today’s meetings were primarily spent arguing over words and which way arrows should point on a flow chart. There’s a massive difference between “facilitating” and “mitigating” HIV/AIDS treatment, and don’t even get me started on the difference between “scaling up” and “stepping up” prevention efforts, one will have a completely different connotation from the other.
I know these things are necessary but hate the tedious process where they nit pick at every other word and argue over semantics when in the end the general population will get the basic gist from “scaling up” vs. “stepping up”. And when you’re engaged in discussions with hotshots from the UN or National Commission they seem to be enamoured with the sound of their own voice and drone on endlessly.
It’s a small world after all
During the meeting I met Dennis, another Canadian who’s been living in Dar for the past 5 years. He did his Masters at the Unviersity of Dar es Salaam and has been living in Tanzania ever since. He just signed on as a Cooperant with Friends of Tanzania, an orphanage for children who have lost their parents to HIV/AIDS.
He wasn’t available during my orientation the first week I got here so we only met each other during this week’s meeting. After five years of living here his Swahili is very fluent, and he’s pretty settled into Tanzanian life and doesn’t look like he wants to leave after his contract is up. He’s very well travelled and very well connected and has a contact in almost every major city in every major country in Africa.
It turns out we both did went to Western and he graduated only 2 years before I did!! Weird how we never collided on campus all that time, but should find each other on the other side of the globe working in the same city and country!
Day 48
Is blue still my color?
I’ve aspired to work for the UN WHO or WFP but the more exposure I have to the UN the more I feel I’m not cut out for the cutthroat politics involved. I love working on the front-line with people, but hate the other aspect of the work including the bureaucracy and red tape, which I know is unavoidable. With all the meticulous detail they are caught up in, I can also see how easy it is to lose sight of the actual problem.
Calling all Canadians in Tanzania
I’ve been invited by the embassy to attend a Canada Day party at the Canadian Ambassador’s Residence next weekend. When I got the call and they identified themselves as the Canadian High Commission, I froze, thinking they were delivering bad news. I laughed with relief when all it was, was an invitation to the Canada Day celebration. It will be my first Canada Day away from Canada and I’m looking forward to the night out.
Day 49
Day at the Orphanage
We spent the day surveying two of the partner NGO’s including Friends of Tanzania, and Kiota Women Health and Development Organization. Friends of Tanzania is a newly established orphanage Dennis is working for. They take in orphaned children whose parents have died from HIV/AIDS.
There are about 16 children currently living in the residence, and in total over 30 have gone through and had either placed in a home, or died from AIDS. Half the current children have tested HIV + and 5 of them are on ARVs. Despite their conditions, they were like any other kids, happy and carefree.
I have a soft spot when it comes to children. To be born under circumstances of poverty is already hard as it is. But to be afflicted with a deadly virus ravaging through their veins robbing them at a chance to have a life at all, no matter how impoverish, is like a punch in the stomach.
The Mama’s of the house prepped the kids to perform for us a series of traditional dances they’ve been working on. Those kids got moves! They were shaking their hips like there was no tomorrow. There was a little girl who was particularly clingy to me and had the most beautiful smile. Her name was Mali (like the country), I thought, how apropos, I’ve been there.
I told Dennis I’ll be dropping by often to play with the kids.
Day 50
Arusha crew goes to Kariakoo
The girls wanted to load up on supplies while they’re here cause everything is much more expensive in Arusha so I took them to Kariakoo. The UN office being in Arusha has pushed up the standard of living with all the expats and foreigners living in the city and prices are jacked very high. It costs the equivalent of $15 Cdn for a regular sized bottle of shampoo –that’s 3 times as much as what you’d pay back home! A mango costs 2000/ TZ shillings whereas in Dar it’s 500/.
Andrea was a powerhouse when it came to bartering. She was relentless with the vendors and at one point had them running after her when they succumbed to the price she set, as she turned to stage a walk-away. I’m afraid I’m not as aggressive a bargainer as she.
Arusha v. Dar es Salaam
This week the TZ Canadian crew and I kept debating which was a better placement between Arusha and Dar.
– 1 AR: Being expensive was definitely a hit against them
+ 1 AR: There are more expats from the UN office, foreigners and tourists in Arusha so the locals there are used to the different faces and don’t tend to hassle the foreigners as much as they do here in Dar.
+5 AR: Arusha also has all the national parks and close to all the tourist attractions like Safari, Serengetti, Ngorongoro Crater, Rift Valley, Olduvai Jorge, Volcanoes, Hot air ballooning over Moshi, and of course mount Kilimanjaro.
– 2 AR: But you can only do each of those things once and it gets very expensive since they’ve set the prices for foreigners
+ 2 AR: It’s closer to the boarders of Uganda, Congo, and Kenya if you want a weekend getaway somewhere or travel all over East Africa
+ 1 AR: it’s much cooler and temperate being at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro and they’re going through their cold season, which can drop as low as 5 Celsius at night
– 1 AR: you need to pack a lot of warm clothing and use warm blankets at night
TOTAL ARUSHA = 5
+ 3 DSM: City life in Dar is much better and more to do in terms of night life- more places to eat, hang out and go clubbing
– 1 DSM: No moderate temperatures in Dar, just sweltering heat year round. Even during their “cold season” which we’ve entered right now, it’s still about 30+. I’m loving the heat now but when November rolls around and it’s 40+ every single day, don’t know how much I’ll be enjoying the heat then.
+1 DSM: On the other hand, packing for Dar was lighter and simpler –lots of tank tops, tube tops, sarongs, skirts & shorts. No jeans, or heavy clothing, which would’ve weighed my suitcases down
– 1 DSM: Not as much foreigners here as in Arusha and you get hassled more
+ 1 DSM: Dar is cheaper than Arusha. I’ve gotten by on spending no more than the equivalent of $5 Cdn a day!
+ 1 DAR: We’ve got beaches
+ 1 DAR: We’re closer to Zanzibar if you need a weekend getaway
+ 1 DAR: Dar is Tanzania’s Toronto.. enough said.
TOTAL DAR = 6
<<`DAR WINS!!!`>>
In the short amount of time I’ve been living here so far, Dar has grown on me and everyday I fall more in love with the city. I’m really glad I was assigned here even if I’m out here alone cause it’s given me a different experience altogether and hopefully in the end I’ll come out stronger.
Day 51
Arusha crew returns =(
Said goodbye to the girls before they flew back to Arusha. I had so much fun with them while they were here and really needed the pick-me-up and encouragement from them. They also enjoyed their time here in Dar and we went out every night for food, dancing, drinking and good times all around. Now that they’ve had a taste of Dar, they’ll be coming to visit more often. It’s an 8 hour bus ride/2 hr flight, but they’ve fallen in love with the city just like I did and will be back for more!
Jehova’s a mama!!
Jehova gave birth to a baby girl and is naming her after me!! Well it’s not her first name, but her second name is good enough for me! Welcome Faith Hannah John Mkonye into the world! It’s her first child and everyone’s been excited anticipating its arrival. Baraka, who is thrilled to be an uncle, took me to visit them in their home and we took turns fussing over the baby.
Jehova has had malaria twice during the course of her pregnancy and took malaria meds. It doesn’t appear to have affected the baby but it’s still early to tell. Pregnant women are more vulnerable to malaria than women who aren’t pregnant.
I had brought a bundle of Canadian stuff with me to give away as gifts including flags, buttons and pins that my MP office supplied me with, as well as t-shirts, Frisbees, nerf balls and teddy bears with “Canada” or the maple leaf imprinted on it. I gave a cute little plush teddy bear that had a maple leaf stitched on its tummy, as a gift to the baby. Jehova was delighted to receive it and said it will be a wonderful memory of me when I leave.
Day 52
Vivid Dreams part II
I need to come off Larium. I dreamt a pack of monkeys got through my window and invaded my room. When I woke up and looked out my window, I did a double take when I actually saw a monkey walking along the rail of my balcony. I wasn’t sure if I was delusional from my dream or if I really saw a real monkey. I asked the maid if there are monkeys around here and she said there are a few living in the trees in our yard. Maybe I wasn’t seeing things after all.
I learned from Jeff who’s area of expertise is Malaria, that after prolonged use of Larium, the side effects -particularly vivid dreams, continue to manifest long after you stop taking it…. great.... that’s just great.. so I’ll be off Malaria drugs when I get back home but will still dream of monkey invasions. Lovely.
Cross-cultural learning 101: Flashing somebody
Baraka and I hiked out to Coco Beach together and it was the perfect way to spend a breezy Sunday afternoon. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the ocean view.
When we got back Baraka dropped me off at my front door as usual, then said “Flash me if you want me to call you tonight,” “huh?!!” was he seriously asking me to flash him? “You don’t want me to call?” he asked, “You want me to flash you?” I returned. “Then how will I know to call you?” … hmmm, maybe ‘flash’ means something else… “Ok, how do I flash you?” I asked with caution, “Just ring once and I’ll call you right back!” OOOooooohhhhh, he wants me to flash him… so I did.
I always wondered why people were calling me and hanging up… .. now I know why!
Day 53
I’ve fallen in love with a boy named Pili
A PLHA member of TANOPHA brought a boy named Pili into the office. She was a neighbour who knew his parents, both who have died of AIDS and the other children were divided among the other relatives and this boy was the only one remaining, abandoned in the house.
He was most likely the sickest of the bunch so no one wanted could afford the cost of taking him in. A PLHA herself with children of her own, she couldn’t take him in and asked us to place him in an orphanage that would cover the cost of his care and possibly even education should he get better later on.
He was short, boney, wearing tattered clothing, very small and weak, and looked like he was 5 years old. I learned he was actually closer to 10 years. When she handed him over and turned to leave, he began whimpering, unsure of what was going on and the look of despair in his eyes was heart breaking.
Bruno began making calls to see where we can take the boy. When the Chairman, Mr. Kaaya came he asked what the situation was and without a second thought said he would take the boy in. He is HIV positive himself, married but with no children of his own. He is the founder of TANOPHA and has already taken in 2 other orphaned children, a boy and girl. Pili will be the 3rd child in his care.
Mr. Kaaya had errands to run throughout the day before he could take the boy home with him. I had no field assignments and would be in the office all day so offered to look after the boy in the meantime. I motioned for him to come over to where I was sitting. He gingerly walked over and sat with me. He already felt warm from a lingering fever. I pulled out some scrap paper to do origami, remembering it was a big hit with the kids in Mali. He sat on my lap bright eyed as I transformed paper into a crane, frog and boat.
He seemed to accept whatever his fate was at this point. He was so innocent, trusting and willing to be nurtured and cared for I wish I had the power to shield him and all the other children in his shoes, from the cruel world. Just looking at him there was no doubt he was HIV+ and didn’t look to be in great shape even if he were already taking ARV’s.
As we sat there together I felt so sad and wondered if he would live through the year even under Mr. Kaaya’s care. I learned later that day Mr. Kaaya had to admit him in the hospital because when he brought him home he was too sick even take food. His CD4 count had already dropped below 100 and wasn’t on ARV’s as I suspected.
They put him on cocktails right away and administered enteral feed, but he’s already progressed so far, he’s essentially surpassed the point of AIDS and it will just be a matter of time before what’s left of his immunity will completely deteriorate.
He doesn’t deserve this. It’s just not fair..
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