The start of my 26th year
It wasn’t a particularly ‘happy’ birthday, it was actually quite sad. I was too shattered and depressed to write about yesterday’s happenings, but now that I’ve had a day to digest everything am I purging all my emotions.
My parents woke me up when they called to wish me a happy birthday in the morning. They were bickering over the phone, my dad profusely apologizing cause I was woken up, and chastising my mom for being too antsy and not waiting another hour to call, and my mom waiving him off, pestering me with a dozen questions at once, while I was on speakerphone. Hearing their voices and squabbling made me feel homesick all of a sudden.
When I got to the office, Bruno sprung an assignment on me to accompany an officer to a rural town nearby, to survey a Voluntary Counselling and Treatment Cantre (VCT) administering ARV’s (Anti retroviral drugs). It was about an hour’s drive via bumpy and jagged dirt roads (there are only paved roads in the city). I had been working in a cozy environment so far and wasn’t at all prepared for the sight I saw on my first field assignment.
When we arrived, there was already a massive crowd of people who had been travelling since very early in the morning to collect their medication and others waiting to get tested. I have been around many HIV+ individuals at the office who are doing quite well and very healthy you wouldn’t even know they were positive, so it was a complete shock to see the state these people were in. They were so weak, frail and wasting away.
There were young girls waiting in line to get tested and I learned some of them had been sexually abused and now testing to see what the repercussions are. There were school-aged children who I thought were still infants cause they were so small from stunted growth and wasting. The children who were there were brought by their Grandmothers cause their parents had already died of AIDS.
I learned some of the people had travelled a good 50+ km to the centre just to access meds. A lot of them were suffering from other opportunistic infections hoping to get meds for these separate ailments but Tanzania does not yet have a program for meds to treat other HIV related infections other than the actual ARV’s.
Mothers were in line to have their babies tested incase they had passed on the virus either through breast milk or MTCT during birth (Mother to child transmission). Babies cannot be tested for HIV until after 18 months because the virus is not yet detectible in their bodies while their proteins are still maturing. So the babies brought in for testing were at least 18 months and older but still looked much younger from frailty. Children on ARV’s can have a prolonged life but few will live to see the age of 20. Making it to their teens is a bonus, but anything beyond that is not at all likely.
There was one mother who was struggling with a toddler and infant so I helped her out and took the infant while she dealt with the other kid. The baby was so tiny, a plastic doll would have been heavier. It was sad looking around knowing that some of those children in the state they’re in have a very small chance of living through the year, and the ones that make it past their youth will still not live a full life.
The effectiveness of ARV’s depends entirely on their nutritional status so if it’s poor, it won’t do them any good and it’ll be a matter of time before they progress from HIV to full blown AIDS. Many of them are already suffering from opportunistic infections and are not qualified to receive ARV’s unless their CD4 count is 200 or below. Compared to the healthy people I’ve seen living in the city, these people in this town live from hand to mouth. Some can only afford to eat one meal a day, especially when productivity is low when they can’t work because of their illness whenever opportunistic infections develop.
Baraka, the officer in charge handed me a clipboard and told me to get to work but I stood there frozen, in shock. I knew all the facts and figures, I know all the research inside and out, and I was very much aware of the state of poverty, but seeing it and experiencing it first-hand was completely different and I was crushed at the reality of it when I realized how bad it was.
We got to work, gathering and collecting data to bring back for assessments and reports. We wrapped up later that day and Baraka brought me back to the office. Exhausted from the day’s work in the heat, I just wanted to go home right away but Jehova, the secretary asked me to stay behind to look over a document. I was kind of annoyed but waited anyway… it turns out they were surprising me with cake.
A bunch of staff burst in through the door singing their version of Happy Birthday with a cake that had my name written on it (spelled incorrectly, but I love them all for their thoughtfulness just the same). I was already so overwhelmed from the day, feeling homesick, and completely caught off guard from their surprise that I started tearing up.
Neema, the other girl my age said, “I hope you’re not missing your family and friends too much because you have family and friends here in Africa too”, referring to the staff, I was so touched by this I just cried even more. I went home that night, feeling very emotional and sad from the day’s events.
Day 29
Mayhem at Kariakoo Market (Kah-ree-ah-koh)
If I’ve been slowly easing myself into African life, today’s market experience was the final initiation. It doesn’t even compare to the fish markets -which already smelled bad. The people who were thrusting fish in my face last week were tame compared to the merchants at Kariakoo who were now thrusting knives, toenail clippers, sugar cane strips, bags of peanuts and other random items.
Kariakoo is the largest, most popular, most crowded market place in Dar es Salaam. Anything imaginable you ever want to buy can be found at Kariakoo. It is where your haggling skills are put to the test; otherwise foreigners are easy targets to rip-off.
I went with Johanne, the French Canadian Lawyer, who has been living here for the past two years and is more than familiar with the drill at Kariakoo. She called me early in the morning to give me a quick orientation over the phone.
- Don’t bring knapsacks cause thieves will slice through the bottom when you’re not paying attention, to access any valuable belongings.
- Don’t wear anything fancy that will stand out, and try as reasonably possible to blend into the crowd (heh, fat chance of that).
- Leave your camera at home. You’ll feel worse when you find it’s been stolen than if you missed what you think it a great photo-op.
- Wear a money belt under your clothes or secured purse you can keep slung in front of you, and zippered shut.
- The rule of thumb she advised me, was to get as close to half of their asking price, otherwise they’re ripping you off
I managed not to have an anxiety attack in the city centre and even bought a few items -two skirts for parties coming up I’ve been invited to. I’m a pushover when it comes to bartering and had to let Johanne do the haggling for me cause I was ready to cave after the price went down only a dollar or two.
Visiting Baraka’s home
I met with Baraka later in the afternoon who invited me to his place for dinner. He is another programme officer from a partner AIDS org, a year older than me who I’ve been working closely with. During work, he’s a drill sergeant and barks orders at you and doesn’t care if he hurt your feelings as long as you learn to do the job right.
When we were in the field together he was particularly hard on me cause my Swahili wasn’t fluid enough as he expected it to be. He refused to translate for me a few times cause he thought I should understand by now. Give me a break, I’ve barely been here a month! But as soon as we step outside of work he completely softens and it’s like he’s an entirely different person. We get along great outside of work, but I have trouble reading him sometimes and don’t know if he’ll be the easy-going Baraka, or the tough, hard-ass Baraka.
He picked me up at my place and showed me the route to his house. He lives about 25 minutes away by bus. When we got to his neighbourhood there were a bunch of young boys who flocked around him wanting to play soccer. We kicked the ball around for a bit, before he motioned at me to get going and we continued walking to his house.
When we got to his place his older sister Jehova was hand-washing laundry in tubs outside. Their home consists of a small room for their living area, and another even smaller room for their bedroom. They have a communal kitchen and bathroom they share with neighbours. The bathroom is an outhouse, and the toilet is a hole in the ground you have to squat over. Their living area is a small cramped room filled with very basic furniture. The floor was concrete, lined with what looked like drawer paper.
Jehova is pregnant with her first child and due any day now. Her husband is away working in Morogoro so her brother’s been looking after her. They’re originally from Arusha but left to go to school in Dar es Salaam, and both ended up with jobs here and haven’t gone back since other than to visit. Their family is also originally Masaii, but not very traditional.
La Cucaracha
We were sitting around and chatting, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a big black thing scurry across the floor. No, it wasn’t a mouse it was a huge giant cockroach!! I quickly pulled my feet up on the chair on impulse and they laughed at me, , probably thinking I was such a sheltered priss…but it was huge though, I’m not exaggerating!
They served rice and beans for dinner and papaya for dessert with a really nice tasting ginger tea. I thoroughly enjoyed their company, talking with them getting to know them.
Day 30
Kitchen Party
I’ve been invited to a co-worker’s wedding and before the actual wedding it’s customary to have a series of pre-wedding celebrations. One of them is the “Kitchen Party” which is their very wholesome version of a bachelorette. I’ve been to my share of bachelorette’s and I’ll admit I was a little disappointed to find that it was nothing like the good times back home. No males attend the “Kitchen Party”, and certainly no male strippers.
It is a party where women are supposed to bond, and the older women impart their counsel to the bride-to-be, tips on how to be a good wife to her husband and the key to a happy marriage. I went with Neema another girl from the office, and she translated into English the presentations and I had to keep myself from laughing out loud at some of the things the women were saying: “Try to anticipate his needs, so that he doesn’t have to ask and he will appreciate and love you even more and you’ll be happier”. I wonder what words of wisdom the men are advising the husband-to-be and if it’s this involved and thoughtful.
I know I’m young, I grew up in the west where divorce rates are 50%, I’m not married yet or getting married anytime soon, and I haven’t even lived half my life, but at the very least I’d like to think I’ve learned a thing or two about personal happiness and how a lot of it has to do with reciprocity. It would take an awful lot to get me wait on him hand and foot like the women here are taught to do. And if gestures like ‘anticipating needs’ and the whole lot aren’t reciprocated then it’s not very motivating or fulfilling and I won’t feel compelled to do it at all.
Tanzanian women it seems are still struggling to find their identity, even those who are well educated. Otherwise they’re completely content in being identified as so-and-so’s wife, and their purpose is to birth and raise children.
Thank you mom
Growing up, I found some of the things my mom drilled into my sisters and I rather annoying at times. She’d constantly repeat things like “Books before boys”, and “remember, the bridal shower comes before the baby shower”. But lately, now that we’re older and past that point, she’s been repeating, “No daughter of mine is going to end up a housewife”, and “You’re a nobody if all you are is somebody’s wife”.
When I was deciding whether to go, my mom was very supportive, it was my dad who had reservations about me leaving. In a way she’s been living vicariously through my sisters and I who have had opportunities she never had when she was our age. I was torn about leaving Anthony who naturally wasn’t thrilled about me going away, but in the end understood my need to do this. We’ve been doing the long-distance thing for the past two years and it’s already been tough as it is. He’s going into his last year of Law School and we would’ve been apart this year anyway while he’s finishing up in Windsor.
My mom said to me “What’s another year? Don’t ever put your life on hold or sacrifice your career for him. You’ll regret it and end up resenting him. After 7 years together now’s a good time as any to test your relationship. And if he’s still around when you get back you’ll know he’s worth coming back to.”
So far we’ve made it work. If only mothers would impart this kind of wisdom and encouragement at these kitchen parties.
Day 31
One month down, 11 to go
Deciding whether to take this job was probably one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make in my life so far. It was a really rigorous interview and screening process and they didn’t hold back. They drilled me with questions I never anticipated, challenged every answer I gave and made me second-guess myself all throughout the session. I left the interview thinking that was the end of it and went home ready to forget the whole thing and move on.
It was a complete shock when they called a few weeks later offering me the posting. I couldn’t believe they had chosen me and went through a whole range of emotions mulling over the decision.
PRO: It’s a competitive field and only so many Canadians are given the opportunity to represent Canada. I figure, I’m young, still new in my career, not married yet or tied down to a family, it would be the perfect time in my life to be able to do something like this.
CON: My travel and living expenses are covered and I receive a very modest salary so I’m not losing money or incurring any costs, but I don’t expect to save a whole lot in the next year.
PRO: On the other hand.. money is money is money is money.. right? there will always be time to save money but you only live once to be able to experience something like this.
CON: I was quite ill a few years back and although my health has significantly improved, it would still pose a risk, not yet considering other risks such as contracting Malaria, Cholera or even HIV/AIDS.
PRO: It would give me valuable experience I wouldn’t get anywhere else, and build me up towards new career prospects when I get back.
CON: I would miss my family, friends and Anthony. I thought of my grandma who I’m very close to, and getting up there in age. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her while I was gone. I thought of Anthony and how we’d deal with a year apart. Considering the cost of long distance to Africa, very slow and unreliable internet connections, and different time zones, is it even practical to maintain a relationship from the other side of the globe? Where would that leave us? Will it be 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', or 'out of sight, out of mind'?
PRO: On the other hand what about new friendships and relationships I'd make?
CON: What if I can't handle the challenge? I was told that the friends you make and people and children you work with might suddenly disappear one day, and you find out later that they had died from HIV/AIDS or other diseases. I was warned that there would be moments I'll feel powerless and situations I won't have control over. What if I can't handle this?
When I made my decision, it came down to:
PRO: I would be doing what I believe in and am most passionate about.
I left everything I love back home including my job, my family, and friends to go to a new country, and immerse myself with new people, a new language, and new life, not knowing what’s in store for me. It was a big chance to take and I took it. I know this is something I voluntary signed up for and no matter how tough things get over the year there’s no going back now.
Day 32
Mama Tobias
Mama Tobias has adopted me right from the start. She is a widower with 5 children who are all grown and moved out in different parts of the country. She has 3 sons and 2 daughters but one of them passed away a few years ago from AIDS so she is now living alone.. She’s a very bold, wise older woman in her late 50’s who is also very well read and also very affectionate. When I had my breakdown the other day she held me and it felt so natural, like my own mother was calming and comforting me.
She’s a headstrong woman who speaks her mind and doesn’t care if she’s stepping on toes if it’s the truth. She outwardly rebukes the colonial powers and admonishes the west for their ignorance when it comes to Africa and her fellow Africans.
On the Berlin Conference: “They sat around a table and divided us up like pieces of cake.”
On missionaries: “They turned paganism into something negative and made us out to be godless savages”
On British Colonial rule: “We had to sing to God asking him to save their Queen; she wasn’t really our Queen!”
On the fight between German and Britain to rule Tanzania: “We were passed back and forth like a rag doll between juvenile girls.”
On Victoria Day in Canada: “Aahaha you still celebrate Queen Victoria’s birthday? You Canadians are babies of Britain.”
On Canada’s ties to Britain: “What’s the point of the Governor General? You funny Canadians.” (I’ve wondered this myself!)
She’s has a lot of pride for Africa and her fellow Africans, and will lightly remark to put you in your place when you say something that diminishes Africans in any way. Like when I mentioned I didn’t pack anything dressy to wear for special occasions, she responded, “Did you think Africa was a jungle full of savages that you would never have an occasion to dress up and attend parties or weddings?”. But there’s always a playful tone in her voice indicating she’s just trying to push your buttons so it never goes over the edge.
She takes joy in little momentous occasions she can chronicle as retribution to the West. When she was recalling the funeral of Julius Nyerere she was particularly fond of the scene of several nation leaders and representatives from all over the world in attendance. She mischievously snickered “They couldn’t each have their own limo because there were too many, and it would require too much security. So instead they loaded them all onto one bus and drove them to the national stadium with no AC. They were in their fancy suits, sweating like horses! Imagine watching those refined men, in such an undignified state!”
When I’m working at the office we usually break for lunch together and she’ll take me to different eateries close by. When men hit on me, or offer marriage proposals she’ll chide them playfully and remark that because she’s my “mama” here, they’d have to pay my dowry to her (the Tanzanian tradition is for men to pay the girl’s dowry to her family). It’s been a running joke that she’s purposefully set my “bride price” high so that no man could ever afford me. Damn straight no man can afford me!
Sometimes while we’re in the office she’ll suddenly burst out in song and I always find it a delight when she sings. I’ve learned that Mama sings when she’s either happy or sad. When she’s excited and bubbly about something she’ll start singing cheerful melodies. When she was remembering her late daughter the other day she sung a very melancholy tune that was in her tribal language and I was very moved.
She sings songs from her childhood and it’s amazing how she remembers all these songs so clearly and their meanings. She sung a song that went through the history of Tanzania dating back from the colonial era, to when they were struggling to gain their independence from British rule. She was still a child during Tanzania’s plight for independence but seemed to be very conscious of it as she recollects the Tanzania’s first president, Julius Nyerere was elected and transformed the nation for the better. She said she will teach me the song when my Swahili gets better.
She’s such a lively woman; she reminds me of my own mother who’s also very young at heart and good-humoured. When it comes to Mama, it’s like I never left home. I’ve gone from one mother to another here in Africa.
Day 33
Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines
Bruno’s assigned me to work on a proposal to USAIDS (which I think the majority of the funds came from none other than Bill Gates). Today is Wednesday and the deadline is next week.
I’m working with an older doctor who’s hoping to expand the MTCT (Mother to child transmission) prevention programme at the VCT (Voluntary counsel and treatment) centre he is managing, and the director of another partner org, ANAT (Advocacy network for AIDS in Tanzania) and Baraka, the other programme officer.
We’ve spent this week so far surveying the sites to gather info for the proposal and today was spent doing more fieldwork, then scrambling to plug away through the application at the office. We have 6 days.
Day 34
How many Tanzanians does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
I’m all about teamwork, and enjoy collaborating with colleagues in a cooperative environment when it’s conducive, but for this particular assignment, it’s been excruciatingly painful!! It’s taking an eternity just to agree on objectives, definitions and word choices. When dealing with large bodies like the UN, they are real stickler when it comes to language, and each and every word carries a lot of weight. One word could throw off the whole application for eg. Taking ‘offensive’ vs. ‘deterrent’ actions against the spread of HIV/AIDS.
Baraka at work
Baraka and I have developed this pattern where we’re very good friends outside of work, but as soon as we step into the office, or working in the field together it’s a power struggle, and we’re in competition to have the last word. We’ve gotten around our disagreements by diffusing it with jokes, but lately I’ve felt he’s been really hard on me and I’m no longer in the mood to joke around anymore.
I know he’s doing it for my benefit so I’ll pick up and learn quickly but sometimes it’s too harsh. I’m trying hard not to take it personally but feel discouraged nonetheless. Today I was enormously piqued when we entered an intense argument and he pulled out the big guns and all but said “what do you know, you’re just a girl”.
Baraka at play
Outside of work, Baraka’s a completely different person. He’s sweet, affectionate, nurturing and protective, but not overbearing and smothering like some of the other officers my age I’ve worked with. Despite our head-to-head at the office today, I agreed to go dancing and he took me to a local “disco” as they call it here, in town. As soon as we hit the floor, the stress and tension evaporated and we had a lot of fun.
He lives about 25-30 minutes away from my place, but still insisted on walking me all the way home at the end of the night. We had been chattering about other stuff when work-related things inevitably came up, and I grew quiet thinking about how harsh he had been earlier today. When we got to my front door he broke the silence and offered what I think may have been an apology: “I think you have good ideas, we’ll see if we can use some of them”.
Day 35
Girl bonding
I went out for lunch with the other girls, Neema, Pascazia, and Halima. The girls at the office all work in admin and finance so I barely see them when I’m out doing fieldwork and when I’m in the office I’m usually working in a different room with the other programme officers. So it was nice to be able to bond with them a bit more. Neema was born the same year as me, so she’s been calling me ‘her twin’. She’s very chirpy, and has a very animated personality. Pascazia is the cheeky one, constantly joking around and trying to stir up trouble between people at the office. I learned she has been HIV+ for about 5 years now. She just turned 31. Halima’s father is the deputy chairman of the organization who is also HIV+. She is very reserved and aloof and it takes a while to get her to warm up to you.
Thanks Mom, part II
My dear mother called to check up on me because she rented “Last King of Scotland” the night before, and that caused her to worry about my welfare and safety. She has all of a sudden taken an interest in other African politics and following closely the Mugabe story in Zimbabwe. When I applied for a posting in the Sudan last year and she already flipped out when all I had done so far was go to the interview. She knows I’m far enough away from the notable countries of unrest like the Sudan, Somalia, DR Congo etc.. so has now zoned in on Zimbabwe, which to her, is too close for comfort.
Safe & Secure
Tanzania is one of the most peaceful countries in Africa and it’s highly unlikely that anything bad should happen [knock on wood!]. Other country natives, and not Tanzanians usually stirred up any issues they’ve had. On the outskirts where Tanzania has received refugees from neighbouring countries including Uganda, Rwanda and D.R. Congo, there have been some feuding and animosity as these populations trickled in. Aggressors who were instrumental in the genocide in Rwanda sought refuge in Tanzania and began to stir up trouble.
But other the U.S. Embassy bombing in 1999 and the war instigated by Uganda during Idi Amin’s rule over 30 years ago, there haven’t been any major conflicts. Of course Tanzania has its’ share of crime but name one place where there isn’t any. And if anything should ever happen during our stay, Ottawa has reassured us we’ll be evacuated immediately.
Day 36
My first ride on the “Bajaji” (Bah-Jah-Jee)
Baraka and I went to Henry’s wedding together and getting there was already quite the adventure. He came to pick me up at my place and we headed part of the way on a crowded dala dala. To get to the reception hall we had to switch buses, which ran along a very high traffic road. My nausea was already kicking-in from the first bus we took so I begged him not to make me get on another bus. “Ok fine” he said, “We’ll take a Bajaji instead”.
The “Bajaji” are the taxi-motorcycles they have here, like the “tricycle” in the Philippines, the “tuk tuk” in Thailand, or “Piki Piki” in India. Baraka flagged one down and chattered with the driver negotiating a price. We rode for probably a good 25 km and it cost the equivalent of $4 dollars, Canadian.
The moment we got on my life flashed before my eyes! They’re small enough that they can dart in and out of traffic to get past all the buses and cars, but cut so incredibly close, and veer at the very last second it’s a miracle we didn’t crash! They also drive on the shoulder of the road so close to the ditches I thought we would plummet to our deaths! I hung onto Baraka for dear life and he and the driver kept laughing at me. Miraculously, we got there in one piece!
Henry’s Wedding
TANOPHA staff attended and it was nice getting to know everyone from the office under a different setting that was laidback and relaxed. It was my third wedding event I have attended so far since I’ve been here. The first two were a Send-Off celebration, and Kitchen Party. This was my first actual wedding and it was very interesting to see how they celebrate marriages here.
The reception hall was under a large bamboo canopy, where a band of brass instruments and drums were playing as people piled in. The bride and groom entered and everyone went wild, cheering, whooping, and tooting. The program throughout the night was series of variations of traditional dances and singing.
Before eating, the bride and groom cut their goat. They don’t have cake here, it’s all about cutting the goat. Here, a goat is a must-have at your wedding. A full goat (with the head still on it) is wheeled in, and they cut into it like it’s a cake and feed it to each other. It is after this point that you begin to make your way to the buffet table and can claim a ‘piece of goat’ to eat. There was a good variety of rice, vegetable dishes and meats and the roasted goat wasn’t bad at all.
The highlight of the programme is the gift giving. Different family groups took their turn going up to the front, carrying their gift over their head, to present it to the new couple. The groom’s family presented to them a bundle of rope, which was representative of the cow they’re giving them. Getting a cow as a wedding gift is a very big deal and good start to a prosperous marriage.
Towards the end, there was one very touching moment in the celebration where the women gather around the mother of both the bride and groom to drape over them, the finest and most elaborate kanga’s (Cloth they use to make African style dresses with), as gifts to honour them for rearing their children. It’s a very regal gesture and they do this while singing a rich, lyrical Swahili song.
The party was over by 1am and Baraka and I hitched a ride home with Bruno, my employer.
Day 37
Shopping Mall
Johanne, showed me a mall they have here. It’s in the middle of nowhere and a bit of a trek to go by bus, but once you get there it no longer feels like you’re in Africa. I discovered this is where the expat community flocks. Walking through the mall is actually quite disconcerting cause for a moment you forget you’re in a third world country. We picked up some groceries at the Shoprite, which is their Wallmart. Afterwards we saw Ocean’s 13 in the theatre. The movie itself was bleh, and it felt weird to watch something so American, then step outside onto the dirt roads of Africa again.
Day 38
Monday at work
Things are horribly unorganized here. I don’t have problems working in hectic environments and have even produced some of my best work, while under pressure. But the way things are run here doesn’t even come close to the organized chaos I’m used to. I had gone into the office on Saturday morning to get more work done but still have a lot to finish, that today I’ve brought work home with me to try and plough through. I’m putting in more hours here than when I worked back home, and getting paid less for it!!
Day 39
I’m gonna lose it!
Things are getting crazy. I feel like I’m being pulled in 12 different directions. As soon as I step into the office 12 different people are asking me to do 12 different things. They’re really putting me through the mill and squeezing all they can from me while I’m here.
We haven’t finished budgeting yet so Baraka came over to my place after work to continue working on this thing. He left after 9pm. We’re still not done and have to finish up tomorrow. Tomorrow is the deadline. I haven’t had dinner. Not gonna bother. Too tired.
Day 40
Ahhhhhh African time!!
The USAIDS proposal we’ve been working on for the past week was due today and we sent it in via email TWENTY MINUTES before the deadline at 5pm!!!
They better grant us the damn money after we poured so much into this!!!!
