Tait's Tanzania Journal

Some of my favorite shots of late (they're not all mine - in fact, only 1 is)...

2011-11-22T09:23:00.000-08:00

Roller magic near Gelai
Our new favorite picnic spot, 5 minutes from our house
Day is done... gone the sun... from the lakes... from the hills... from the sky...

Bold Leaders 2011 selected - two from Kisa!!

2011-11-22T09:17:00.000-08:00

We're so proud of our two Kisa scholars, Victoria and Margaret, selected to participate in this year's exchange to the US, a program facilitated by the US Embassy and Bold Leaders, a leadership organization based in Denver, like AfricAid's HQ.

Tanzanian Youth to Visit U.S. on Exchange ProgramsOn November 21, 2011, Public Affairs Officer Dana L. Banks and Peace Corps Country Director Andrea Wojnar-Diagne welcomed 19 students and two teachers to the embassy prior to their trip to the United States of America under the Bold Leaders and States' 4-H International exchange programs. The students will travel in two groups, ten from November through December 2011; and ten from October through November 2012. They will visit Denver, Colorado and Washington, D.C. as part of the program, and will be hosted by American families, schools, and communities, and have the opportunity to engage in leadership programs and activities with American youth and exchange participants from other countries.

Peace Corps Country Director Wojnar-Diagne urged the students to take advantage of the opportunities presented by the program to learn more about the world outside of their communities and to empower others following their return to Tanzania. The experience that will be accrued from this program will have great impact if all of you share it will others in your communities. The Bold Leaders Program that has the potential to transform lives as evident from those who have participated previously. It is especially significant that participants are drawn from many regions across Tanzania, thereby providing a full and balanced representation of all Tanzanians."

Underscoring U.S. support for higher education in Tanzania, Education USA Advisor Ms. Frida Mwenegoha briefed the students on academic counseling programs offered by the embassy and services offered by the Information Resource Center. Cultural Affairs Assistant Mr. Honory A. Jerome provided a pre-departure briefing on the exchange programs' travel logistics.

Bold Leaders is a Social Profit organization with headquarters in Denver, Colorado dedicated to providing leadership development and training services for young people and adults all over the world. The program has served people, organizations and communities in Cambodia, Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Germany, Hungary, Kenya, Nigeria, Northern Ireland, Slovakia, South Africa, Tanzania, Turkey, and the United States. For additional information please see: http://www.boldleaders.org/.

States' 4-H International Exchange Programs (S4-HIEP) a not-for-profit educational and cultural organization which provides international, educational, experiential opportunities for young people to develop positive cross-cultural attitudes and communication skills that encourage lifelong friendships, mutual understanding, and acceptance of all peoples. For additional information please see: http://states4hexchange.org/.

http://tanzania.usembassy.gov/pr_11222011.html

AfricAid/Kisa 1st Career Day - August 27, 2011

2011-09-03T03:36:00.000-07:00

We're still reeling from this big day last week for our 82 Kisa scholars in secondary schools around Arusha and Monduli. We all left with full hearts, students, staff and guests alike. We hope to host more inspiring events like this down the road...

The Rugged Altruists

2011-09-03T03:27:00.000-07:00

The Rugged Altruists * By DAVID BROOKS * OP-ED COLUMNIST w/ NYTIMES
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/23/opinion/brooks-the-rugged-altruists.html?_r=2&emc=eta1

Many Americans go to the developing world to serve others. A smaller percentage actually end up being useful. Those that do have often climbed a moral ladder. They start out with certain virtues but then develop more tenacious ones.

The first virtue they possess is courage, the willingness to go off to a strange place. For example, Blair Miller was a student at the University of Virginia who decided she wanted to teach abroad. She Googled “teach abroad” and found a woman who had been teaching English in a remote town in South Korea and was looking for a replacement.

Miller soon found herself on a plane and eventually at a small airport in southern South Korea. There was no one there to greet her. Eventually, the airport closed and no one came to pick her up. A monk was the only other person around and eventually he, too, left and Miller was alone.

Finally, a van with two men rolled in and scooped her up. After a few months of struggle, she had a fantastic year at a Korean fishing village, the only Westerner for miles and miles. Now she travels around Kenya, Pakistan and India for the Acumen Fund, a sort of venture capital fund that invests in socially productive enterprises, like affordable housing and ambulance services.

The second virtue they develop is deference, the willingness to listen and learn from the moral and intellectual storehouses of the people you are trying to help.

Rye Barcott was a student at the University of North Carolina who spent a summer sharing a 10-by-10 shack in Kibera, the largest slum in Nairobi, Kenya. One night he awoke with diarrhea and stumbled to the public outhouse. He slid onto the cement floor and vomited as his bare body hit puddles of human waste.

He left his soiled pants outside the hut, but when he went to find them later they were gone. He was directed to another hut where a stick-thin girl, with missing clumps of hair, had the pants, scrubbed and folded, in her lap. Barcott said softly, “I’m grateful,” and asked her why she had cleaned them. “Because I can,” she replied. A week later, she died of AIDS and her body was taken in a wheelbarrow to a communal grave.

Over the next several years, Barcott served as an officer in the Marines in places like Iraq and created an inspiring organization called Carolina for Kibera, which offers health services and serves as a sort of boys and girls club for children in the slum.

The greatest and most essential virtue is thanklessness, the ability to keep serving even when there are no evident rewards — no fame, no admiration, no gratitude.

Stephen Letchford is a doctor working in Kijabe, Kenya. One night, years ago, when he was working at a hospital in Zambia, a man stole a colleague’s computer. Letchford drove the police down the single road leading from town. The police found the man carrying the computer and, in the course of the arrest, shot him in the abdomen.

They put the man in the back of the car and rushed him back to the hospital to save his life. Letchford pressed his wounds to stem the bleeding, using tattered garbage bags as surgical gloves. He had scraped his hands gardening that day and was now covered by the man’s blood.

They saved the thief’s life and discovered he was infected with H.I.V. For several days, Letchford and his family were not sure whether he had been infected by the man who robbed them. Their faith was tested. (They later learned that he was not infected.) When the man recovered, he showed no remorse, no gratitude; he just folded in on himself, cold and uncommunicative.

This final virtue is what makes service in the developing world not just an adventure, a spiritual experience or a cinematic moment. It represents a noncontingent commitment to a specific place and purpose.

As you talk to people involved in the foreign aid business — on the giving and the receiving ends — you are struck by how much disillusionment there is.

Very few nongovernmental organizations or multilateral efforts do good, many Kenyans say. They come and go, spending largely on themselves, creating dependency not growth. The government-to-government aid workers spend time at summit meetings negotiating protocols with each other.

But in odd places, away from the fashionableness, one does find people willing to embrace the perspectives and do the jobs the locals define — in businesses, where Westerners are providing advice about boring things like accounting; in hospitals where doctors, among many aggravations, try to listen to the symptoms the patients describe.

Susan Albright, a nurse working with disabled children in Kijabe, says, “Everything I’ve ever learned I put to use here.” Her husband, Leland Albright, a prominent neurosurgeon, says simply, “This is where God wants us to be.”

Tanzania do something!

2011-07-19T01:29:00.001-07:00

Will Dar face a total blackout in 60 days?
By Florian Kaijage - 17th July 2011

Minister of Energy and Minerals, William Ngeleja

For Tanzanians who have tested the benefits and joys of electricity-facilitated modernity, the backward march towards the dark ages is a real threat, as the latest long-stretch electricity rationing is set to worsen. The Guardian On Sunday has reliably learnt that most hydro-electricity generating units countrywide face closure over the next 60 days, translating into more suffering for people whose livelihood and recreation are dependent on reliable power supply. The threat is more ominous on the national scale, by way of deadly blows to the economy of one of the poorest countries in the world, resulting from factory closures or highly reduced production schedules. Disruptions in social service delivery would be similarly hurtful. The nation’s threat of turning to near-total, or total darkness comes at a time when the country is enduring unending power rationing since December 2010, and the hours having lengthened to 12 hours during the day right and 6 hours at night.

This paper has been reliably informed that water level at Mtera dam, the biggest man-made lake in the country has terribly decreased to the extent that the two power generating units at the dam could only generate 8 Megawatts, equals to 10 percent of the installed capacity. A more worrying fact is that Mtera dam is not only an important for power generation at its units but is a water reservoir for Kidatu’s 4 power generation units which are currently generation less than 50 megawatts despite having a capacity to generate 204 megawatts. Water is released from Mtera to Kidatu during dry season or whenever the need arises. The two power generation centers lie on the grate Ruaha River stream. A well placed source at Tanzania Electric Supply Company (Tanesco) told The Guardian on Sunday this week Mtera could be shut down completely in the next 40 days and the same fate would befall Kidatu a few weeks later. “The situation is extremely bad and we do not know what would be happening in the near future because no water is added to the dams,” said the source, which preferred to remain anonymous.

This paper has also established that Hale generating unit which situated in Korogwe, Tanga with an installed capacity of 21 megawatts has been closed as it is unable to generate even a single megawatt and Nyumba ya Mungu unit in Simanjiro District in Manyara Region could generate only 2 megawatt out of 8 megawatts installed capacity. It could not be established how much power Kihansi in Morogoro and Pangani in Tanga generate currently, but it isn apparent that the megawatts produced
at both dams has dropped drastically. The installed capacity of Kihansi is 180 megawatt as Pangani can generate 68 megawatts at full capacity, totaling 248. A source at Tanesco revealed to this paper that the amount of megawatts contributed by hydro power units to the national grid system could not exceed 160 megawatts which is 28.5 percent of the installed capacity of 561 megawatts for all hydro power units.

And with no rains in sight over the next three months, and thus no additional water being fed into the dams, while the generating units continue to operate and consume the little available water, it is clear that the amount generated would be decreasing daily. Last week this paper quoted a senior Tanzania Meteorological Agency (TMA) official as saying that no rains are forecast in the next three months, until the onset of the rainy season in October.

The country has now been turning attention to gas from Songosongo Island as a source of power. However although the 4 plants available have a combined installed capacity of 411 megawatts, they are said to contribute less that 350 megawatt to the
national grid. The plants are Songas (191Mw) Tegeta (45), Symbion (75) and the one owned by Tanesco (100Mw). The national power demand at peak hour in the morning and at night is 833 megawatt with an increase of 14 percent annually.
And with the soaring power woes, the Minister of Energy and Minerals, William Ngeleja told the Parliament when tabling the budget speech for 2011/12 financial year about a long list of government projects aimed at bring about everlasting solution. However, the earliest project which would generate 100 megawatts is expected to be operational in December 2011. This is the project the government has been talking about since 2009.

Other projects cited by minister Ngeleja are Mwanza project (60Mw) to be ready in June 2012, Mnazi Bay (300Mw) to be completed during the 2013/14 financial year, Ruhudji (358 Mw) and Mpanga (165Mw) to be ready in 2015/16 and Somanga Fungu (230Mw) in 2013. Other projects according to Ngeleja are Kiwira (200Mw) which is scheduled to be operational in 2013/14, Ngaka Coal (400Mw), Mchuchuma (600Mw) and Rusumo 63 Mw which have no clear time table and Ramakali (222Mw) slated for 2018. The biggest power project among all is the Stiegler’s Gorge with a capacity to generate 2100 megawatts, which however has no schedule as to when the implementation would start and the eventual completion.

SOURCE: THE GUARDIAN

AfricAid-US visits Arusha

2011-05-22T09:39:00.000-07:00

Baba Ashley, Ashley and Mama Ashley of AfricAid-Colorado, USAElizabeth Abshire, soon to be AfricAid's new Executive Director, moi and Joseph Kitia, one of our favorite partners to work with in Usa River.

We're off to visit our partner schools and sites this week along with a team of US donors and supporters. Should be an action-packed May-June.

What everybody's talking about in A'town

2011-05-06T06:19:00.000-07:00

Crowds Come Over Roads and by Helicopters for Tanzanian’s Cure-All Potion
By JEFFREY GETTLEMAN

NAIROBI, Kenya — He’s a sensation in two countries. He’s snarled traffic for miles. He’s so popular that people have literally died waiting in line to see him.

Ambilikile Mwasapile, a 76-year-old retired pastor in rural Tanzania, has been offering a herbal concoction that he bills as a miracle potion that can cure just about any illness. In the past few weeks, tens of thousands of sick people have scrambled for a sip of his homebrewed drink. Some, apparently, have even flown in by helicopter.

On Monday, Tanzanian officials said that several dozen elderly and sick people had recently paid the price for joining the throngs.

“They died from the long queues,” said Isidore Shirima, a local official in Arusha, a town popular with tourists about six hours’ drive from the pastor’s village. “We’re not going to stop this, but we want to organize it better.”

Mr. Mwasapile, a former Lutheran preacher, lives in Samunge, a village in the middle of the savannah near the Kenya-Tanzania border. He began administering his miracle potion several months ago, and charges about 30 cents a cup. He says it can cure AIDS, cancer, diabetes, high blood pressure — you name it.

According to The Daily Nation, Kenya’s largest newspaper, Tanzanian officials have tested the herbs in the concoction and have verified that it is safe to drink. Mr. Mwasapile even has a Facebook page, listed under “Doctor, Arusha, Tanzania.”

Traditional healers are not considered fringe elements here. Sometimes, their teachings take macabre directions. In Tanzania, so many people believe, for example, that the body parts of albinos carry good luck, that dozens of albino people have been killed by thugs, who then sell their bones, hair and skin for thousands of dollars.

Mr. Mwasapile’s village is remote, with no good roads, and is hard to reach from any sizable town. It can take people from either side of the border days to reach him, with the elderly and sick camping out under trees on the way.

He issued a statement over the weekend saying that he planned to halt new arrivals to his village for a week, until he could serve everyone who was already camped out there.

Esther Lally, a recent college graduate living in Arusha, said she saw helicopters landing in the bush ferrying Tanzanian politicians to the village. She said that the potion worked.

“It’s all about faith,” said Mrs. Lally, who drank it herself two weeks ago. “If you believe that this works, it works. I saw many people there who had gotten better.”

Mrs. Lally wanted the potion to cure her ulcers, and she said she was already feeling better.

She said the drink “tastes like tea, without the sugar.”

A version of this article appeared in print on March 29, 2011 in the New York Times. Thanks Alilala ;)

In honor of women's history month

2011-03-28T00:18:00.000-07:00

This post is part of a month-long series featuring Greatest Women of the Day, in recognition of Women's History Month. Huffington Post continues to showcase women making change -- big and small -- around the world. In partnership with She's The First, they featured this letter from a young Tanzanian, Elizabeth David; in it, she shares her story, goals and role models. She is one of the students we work with in the KISA project:

I'm Elizabeth David. I'm 19 years old and I live in Kilimanjaro, Tanzania. I study at Arusha Secondary School, which is a boarding school. I'm in my last year of advanced level (A-level), and I take three main subjects, which are history, geography, and economics, and also two subsidiaries, which are basic applied mathematics and general studies. My goals are to be a successful businesswoman in 10 years and to help Tanzanian women in any way I can.

In my first year of A-level at Arusha Secondary, I joined the Kisa Project. It's a project which deals with providing leadership education to girls in Tanzania. In Kisa, we did different projects like teaching computer at our school. Also, we had a leadership summit of 10 days in which we got many guest speakers from different places and occupations. Some were women lawyers and
successful businesswomen and leaders. They inspired me a lot and made me realize that I want to be a role model to my fellow African women and girls and also help them in any way I can.

In Women's History Month, there are a lot of women who inspire me to reach this goal and overcome any obstacle that I may face. One of them is my mom, Mrs. Suzan Samson. I admire the courage she has shown in raising me and my two elder sisters, making sure that my sisters get a good education and go to university. She has always shown herself to be a strong, tolerant, loving woman who is always ready to help others in need, even if she doesn't have much herself. Also, I learn from Oprah Winfrey, she had passed through a lot of hardships in life but turned out to be a very successful woman. And Dr. Anna Makinda, my fellow Tanzanian who is the first woman to be a parliament speaker in our country.

Tanzanian women are very hardworking women. They struggle a lot so that their children won't starve or not get education. Although to some extent men still see them as inferior, nowadays the women don't care about it anymore. Instead, they put extra efforts, and they end up proving the men wrong. A lot of Tanzanian women who were just housewives decide to get out of their houses and start their own small businesses -- from them they have succeeded to build their own houses, put the kids in school, and cover other daily house expenses. So I might say that Tanzanian women are very strong, tolerant and courageous.

Love,
Elizabeth

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/03/18/in-her-own-words-a-young-_n_837755.html

The Best Investment by Nancy Gibbs [Time magazine]

2011-02-08T20:57:00.000-08:00

We know what the birth of a revolution looks like: A student stands before a tank. A fruit seller sets himself on fire. A line of monks link arms in a human chain. Crowds surge, soldiers fire, gusts of rage pull down the monuments of tyrants, and maybe, sometimes, justice rises from the flames.

But sometimes freedom and opportunity slip in through the back door, when a quieter subversion of the status quo unleashes change that is just as revolutionary. This is the tantalizing idea for activists concerned with poverty, with disease, with the rise of violent extremism: if you want to change the world, invest in girls.

In recent years, more development aid than ever before has been directed at women--but that doesn't mean it is reaching the girls who need it. Across much of the developing world, by the time she is 12, a girl is tending house, cooking, cleaning. She eats what's left after the men and boys have eaten; she is less likely to be vaccinated, to see a doctor, to attend school. "If only I can get educated, I will surely be the President," a teenager in rural Malawi tells a researcher, but the odds are against her: Why educate a daughter who will end up working for her in-laws rather than a son who will support you? In sub-Saharan Africa, fewer than 1 in 5 girls make it to secondary school. Nearly half are married by the time they are 18; 1 in 7 across the developing world marries before she is 15. Then she gets pregnant. The leading cause of death for girls 15 to 19 worldwide is not accident or violence or disease; it is complications from pregnancy. Girls under 15 are up to five times as likely to die while having children than are women in their 20s, and their babies are more likely to die as well.

There are countless reasons rescuing girls is the right thing to do. It's also the smart thing to do. Consider the virtuous circle: An extra year of primary school boosts girls' eventual wages by 10% to 20%. An extra year of secondary school adds 15% to 25%. Girls who stay in school for seven or more years typically marry four years later and have two fewer children than girls who drop out. Fewer dependents per worker allows for greater economic growth. And the World Food Programme has found that when girls and women earn income, they reinvest 90% of it in their families. They buy books, medicine, bed nets. For men, that figure is more like 30% to 40%. "Investment in girls' education may well be the highest-return investment available in the developing world," Larry Summers wrote when he was chief economist at the World Bank. Of such cycles are real revolutions born.

The benefits are so obvious, you have to wonder why we haven't paid attention. Less than 2¢ of every development dollar goes to girls--and that is a victory compared with a few years ago, when it was more like half a cent. Roughly 9 of 10 youth programs are aimed at boys. One reason for this is that when it comes to lifting up girls, we don't know as much about how to do it. We have to start by listening to girls, which much of the world is not culturally disposed to do. Development experts say the solutions need to be holistic, providing access to safe spaces, schools and health clinics with programs designed specifically for girls' needs. Success depends on infrastructure, on making fuel and water more available so girls don't have to spend as many as 15 hours a day fetching them. It requires enlisting whole communities--mothers, fathers, teachers, religious leaders--in helping girls realize their potential instead of seeing them as dispensable or, worse, as prey.

A more surprising army is being enlisted as well. A new initiative called Girl Up girlup.org aims to mobilize 100,000 American girls to raise money and awareness to fight poverty, sexual violence and child marriage. "This generation of 12-to-18-year-olds are all givers," says executive director Elizabeth Gore, the force of nature behind the ingeniously simple Nothing but Nets campaign to fight malaria, about her new United Nations Foundation enterprise. "They gave after Katrina. They gave after the tsunami and Haiti. More than any earlier generation, they feel they know girls around the world."

And so the word goes out, by text, by tweet, on Facebook, that coming soon to a high school gym near you may be a Girl Up pep rally, where kids can learn what it feels like to carry a jerrican of water for a long distance, or how sending $5 to Malawi can stock a health clinic with girl-friendly materials or buy school supplies. Or how $5 to Ethiopia can make the difference in a girl's not being married when she's 10. And one at a time, a rising generation of American girls helps create the next generation of leaders, for the coming quiet revolutions.

Read more: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,2046045-1,00.html#ixzz1DR0n2h61

Heri ya Krimasi na mwaka mpya!

2011-01-05T00:02:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year friends. It's been quite a year. We got married. My brother got married. We moved into a real house. I started a new job 2 days ago. And I'm feeling super thankful for it all. One thing I'm most thankful for is our great friends and nextdoor neighbors' successful adoption of this precious one, Zara Grace. Radiant she is. Zac is here saving her body outline for posterity with street chalk. How she's grown already...
Mary says Happy 2011 with a fresh glass o carrot juisi. Cheers!I'll close w/ a fun pic from our Christmas day. One of our neighborhood guys came over that morning to ask Hunter to help him tie his tie for Christmas service. I guess he doesn't wear them much :) More hilarious is his pilot-style shirt. Lots of pilots live around us as we're very close to the Arusha domestic airport. I'm sure that's how he landed [pun intended] this sweet one

Our wedding rocked

2010-10-24T16:56:00.000-07:00

http://vimeo.com/16064003 [our wedding slideshow by photographer Ian Riley]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N99LsSAqImw [Thanks to Uncle Rob for filming this one]

http://www.vimeo.com/16154751 [Cheers to Sterling for this slideshow. The Man]

More coming...

Lisa and Byro's 28th anniversary of marriage

2010-08-15T07:36:00.001-07:00

Hunter's recreating the pillows of 236 Hurumzi in Stonetown for this lovely gang...Celebrating over the Olasiti korongo...
Introducing the newest member of their family...
Needless to say, this little creature makes Hunter and I want a dog. Badly. We also want as solid a marriage and family. May I add, I hope we have as lovely offspring, inside and out. Ha. That sounds funny, but I mean it. The Bordens give us so much to look up to, to strive for in our life ahead as husband and wife, mother and father, sister and brother to so many...

this doesn't happen everyday...

2010-08-09T10:01:00.000-07:00

Hunter and I enjoying a goat roast with some friends, Life Skills teachers from PHS
A co-worker from PHS, Elaina, and my bro Angelo, the party chairman
Another thing which doesn't happen every day is engagement parties - not too common in our neck of the woods. Our first hosted in Atown from afar by a family friend in Atlanta:
Hannah, Zac, Lisa and Jesse (a good substitute for his Daddy-O)
Tammy and Peter Russell
Ian and Ciska Haynes, our infamous South African invitees - Ciska's Visa fresh in!
Eo!
Double Eo!!
That last shot is just totally inappropriate, Zac. I'm proud to say he's my new drum teacher.

I'm unemployed!

2010-08-05T05:33:00.000-07:00

On my very first day of being unemployed, I received the following email from my dearest darling sibling King Cc'ing all of my future in-laws:

Michelle (his fiance) brought up a bunch of mail that has been forwarded to her house while I am in New York this summer. I have a very interesting picture of Tait driving my car through montgomery county, maryland during her most recent trip home. 44 mph in a 30. If anyone would like a wallet sized copy of the picture, the police department kindly sent 4 with the ticket. At least I don't have to worry about finding a wedding present now!

Thank you brother.

MIA

2010-07-19T23:09:00.000-07:00

I admit it fully: I've been MIA. I don't know why but my writing/creative juices have run dry. Or maybe it's free time that's run a bit short. Leaving my job at Peace House, transitioning to a new home, preparing to start a new job as well as the biggest chunk: preparing to get married back in the US have kept me in a permanent state of whirlwind. Whew. I hope soon I'll be able to write about all this; for now, I'd like to leave those of you who still check my blog for some reason with my/our new mailing address:

Tait (and soon to be Hunter Flint)
PO Box 12246
Arusha
TANZANIA

Karibuni sana kututembelea (Come and visit us in) Arusha. Yes, Hunter and I will be moving back here to TZ upon uniting under God with best friends and family at my most favorite place, Camp Merrie-Woode.

"We cannot become what we want to be by remaining who or what we are."
-Max Dupree
2 of our wedding consultants, Hank (on band, dance, song list) and Christy (on a whooooole lot) in Merrie-Woode Dining Hall

Hunter's b-day and Easter holiday

2010-04-08T23:08:00.000-07:00

Dreamlike skies and sunsets up at Simba Farm on the slopes of West Kili have brought respite and change of scenery...

Hunter's birthday partay back on the 25th. He played and sang. We watched. We ate cake.

A new project for my water tank - in fact, my Christmas gifti from Hunter; plans are to adorn and bring life to this tank with bamboo a la Peterson

Yep - it's what you think: snakes in my bathtub. Adventure has taken on a whole new meaning in my house. Not only did I discover these 2 coming out from under my tub, but there was another little guy found later under my bed! Nightmare much?! A local family that's been here forever recommends putting screens in our drains. I say. Jason of Peace Corps Kinikele days has still got me beat with 2 cobras found under his bed. I've been told these are just house snakes. I hope so.

I'm sorry to have been so quiet on the blog of late. I've had loads of wageni (guests) on campus to host and lots going on outside of work stretching and growing me. The theme of my last few weeks has been: becoming and self-improvement, so I'll end with these...

"We cannot become what we want to be by remaining who or what we are" - Max DePree

"i want to be a gentle presence
like you
the way your touch is cooling

or maybe warming
like when the sun is new
and young

let my footsteps fall softly here
and may they say
yes, i know her
she comes from
where truth dwells"

-lisa borden (letsputthekettleon.blogspot.com)

To becoming...

Aren't my friends' kids adoooooorable?

2010-03-09T00:48:00.000-08:00

Hallie and Steve's new babe, Bradley
Hil and Croft's new babe, Elsa a.ka. Big yawn or Sugarlips. Don't you think she yawns just like Hilary?
Elizabeth and Logan's new 'toto, Reid a.k.a. RAW or Bubs. His parents just seemed to have told him they're leaving to climb Kili again..with him.

Kilimanjaro 5 km race for PHS Running Club

2010-03-04T06:25:00.000-08:00

2010 whoa

2010-02-12T02:57:00.000-08:00

Here it is February 12th, 2010 and I'm nestling into what feels like my first quiet, free moment without distraction since the New Year bell rung. Where have the days gone? The last time I blogged was November with nostalgia and love for my old village. Three months have passed since then; in that time, I wrapped up my first school year of work here at Peace House Secondary, I spent nearly a month back in the US for Christmas break, we all crossed over into a new decade and am now at Peace House starting another school year with 115 new Form 1 students. Whoa.

It's nice to take a break and a deep breath.

The last few months have been wonderful and strange and joyful and sad. Yet again the roller coaster that is life...

We closed school last December having just discovered our first student pregnancy here at PHS; she was subsequently expelled as is TZ policy. Back home over Christmas, my family hung out with Hunter's family in our favorite place, the Western North Carolina mountains. We traveled the BVI's serenely on a catamaran. Hunter got robbed on our first day back in Arusha. My house girl was diagnosed with cancer our first weekend back. My brother got engaged a week later and will be married this Fall to a sweet girl named Michelle. My Dad turned 67 yesterday. The same day, one of my best friends gave birth to her first child: a beautiful, healthy baby girl named Elsa. I had my favorite life skills class yet with our Form 3 girls on managing emotions. The class ended with singing and dancing and sheer silliness. That's when you know you've taught a good class, making your students feel safe, cared for and free.

*With our new Life Skills team*

I'm supposed to be in Stonetown for the Sauti ya Busara Music Fest this weekend, something I've not missed since coming to TZ in 2005, but I opted to stick around instead. I just didn't feel right splurging when my housegirl and friend Mary's cancer status is unknown. We hope to receive the biopsy results next Wednesday. Amazing to find out there is only one hospital in all of Tanzania treating cancer. Apparently, the TZ government covers the care and implementation, but the actual radiation is up to the patient to purchase. A little different from home eh?! We are praying all the cancer is gone completely, and that a trip to Ocean Road Hospital in Dar is not in the cards for gangsta wetu, Mary. It makes me sick to my stomach that all that time I was home, reuniting with family and friends, eating and drinking, hiking and sailing, enjoying fireworks and fireplaces, Mary was suffering, staying with her pastor undergoing intense maombi or prayers, taking village potions, sweating at night, losing hope by the day as her growth grew bigger and bigger.

My momma always said: life isn't fair. She was right. But we can try to make it a little more fair for a few.

Travels back to my old stomping grounds

2009-12-06T22:47:00.000-08:00

Manga, not "the Peach State," but a land of peaches nonetheless...

Bibi yangu wa Manga, Mama Claud

Babu yangu wa Manga, Kowzen

My old neighbors, Joyce's family. One of my favorites in Manga

Mtitu "Black" and Joseph Nyenzi

Mtitu "Black" and Fabian being silly

The finished Mahongole Girls Dorm

Manga students showing off their new digs

Girls enjoying their new sleeping and study quarters

Oliva and Lillian, two of my students from CHASAWAYA Vocational Center for girls

Makambako's heroes...aka the Posta ladies. Nani ni shujaaaaaa?!

Happenings

2009-10-08T01:04:00.000-07:00

Our students playing water polo for the first time in ISM's pool. ISM, the same International School that hosted us for Track & Field last month (more later on that), also invited us yesterday for an afternoon of swimming/water polo in the shallow end, ultimate frisbee and dodgeball. All 30 of our students selected to go had perma-grins. Water polo in the shallow end was the perfect way to reduce real fears amongst our students of water and of swimming. It's like football in the water, their teachers explained. Yes, just like football....only a little different.

Angelo and I, the fearless Social Workers, not afraid to jump in the pool too.

Kalolo playing dodgeball, a new game for him.

Shawna, the coordinator at ISM, and I, relieved that the first of four events went swimmingly. We hope to come once a quarter for activities like this, to use their facilities until we can build our own over the next several years.

Our accomplished teachers, boasting their certificates after our recent Teacher Training over September break. Elimu oyay! Thanks Dr. Marty.

Peace House students at their very first Track & Field event. It was a momentous day. Lots of students placed in the top three for their event, kids who had never done the high jump before in their life, for example, won the high jump, and many of our students who were viscerally afraid to sign up, performed really well and I hope, felt accomplished. They certainly deserved to.

Peace House runner Haikeli who ended up winning her age group in her race, the 1500 meter. I was most proud of her this day. I could almost drink the ounzes of self-esteem she gained that day, that moment.

Leaving for the big adventure in my car...which, if you've been reading my previous blogs, turned quickly into misadventure :(. Hunter and brother Peter are sporting their best first-day-of-school expressions. Turns out they had reason to be apprehensive!
Hunter, sitting in my "salon" on my porch,after his best haircut yet. Thanks to Anne for the professional haircutting kit. My salon business is out the roof now. Kudos nyingi to Pamela Levine, fellow PCV haircutter extraordinaire, who really taught me everything I know today in regards to the art of cutting hair. And it is an art.
Hunter always complains that I post too many embarassing pictures of him on my blog. I don't know what he's talking about. Anyway, these are his latest spider bites. Yes, you can say it: GROSS. Welcome to Africa living. You never know what's inside the mosquito net as you sleep.
Hunter and my co-worker from last year, Boniface, teaming up for a mean match of 3-legged race at a Rotary event last month. Peter Luis, wherever you are, that shirt is brilliant! Thanks again for your solid consulting. Keep up the good work.

In honor of Joe Chow, PCV - Tanzania

2009-10-02T01:47:00.000-07:00

I feel compelled to share this email as a member of the big and beautiful family known as Peace Corps, specifically Peace Corps Tanzania. It was written by my friend and fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer), Leiha:

I just came back to Moshi this afternoon, got off the bus and hugged a new friend goodbye, for now. Her name is Leah, nice name huh? She's a short term volunteer here in Moshi. Normally I wouldn't cross paths with short term vols in Moshi town but today we just so happened to have met on the bus this afternoon coming from Dar. We caught up with each other at the lunch/rest stop. While chit-chatting a bit she made a comment about how someone once told her, "Don't wait til you're 65 to start living the life you wanted to try out." That's when I told her of a friend of mine who lived his life with such an intensity that there was nothing left to do but stand back and admire him.

My friend Joe Chow passed away last Tuesday. A fellow Education PCV, he was on school break and while visiting another friend of ours, fell while descending from a rock climb in Mbinga, Tanzania. I myself have climbed this same rock. It's not an easy climb, but do-able. His death was an accident in every sense of the word, nothing could have been changed, it happened. The reality of this is still hard to swallow.

The past week, being in Dar for his memorial, has been a blur of emotion and everything else. We were supposed to meet up and raft the Nile after he completed his service this November, we even talked about attempting another marathon together. I have many wonderful memories with Joe throughout our 2 years here in Tanzania. When Leah shared that story with me today at lunch, I felt an obligation to tell her I knew someone that didn't wait.

Joe lived his life with such a crazy intensity, a complete signature of his personality, that I'm finding myself not so much mourning the loss of the rest of his life, but standing back in admiration for all he did while he was here, alive. Yes, I miss him. I don't know when the reality of his absence will really settle in, or if it ever will. But isn't it our obligation as friends to take those we lose with us in life?

I never thought that the last time I saw him, waving through the window of the bus, I wouldn't meet up with him again in our lifetime. We never truly know, do we? But that's just it. We all will pass on one day. I just hope that in the meantime, we all live our lives to the fullest, happiest, most enriched we can. Life is a beautiful blessing, a gift we share and enjoy together. I am blessed to have been enriched by Joe's friendship in my life.

Thanks for reading this.
Leiha (PCV in the Pare Mountains)

Peace House student shots by the one, the only CJ Miller

2009-09-21T03:43:00.000-07:00

Car saga continued

2009-09-19T02:41:00.000-07:00

Yes friends, it gets worse. The saga continues.

On our much-anticipated safari over our school breaks, Hunter, his brother Peter (a.k.a. Yesu to all Tanzanian children who caught a glimpse of this long-haired man of a man), and myself, departed for a journey to a farmhouse on Kilimanjaro my friend Simon owns in Mbahe village. Gals and Logan know what I'm talking about! Gorgeous it would be...

...but getting there was first on our list. So, we gleefully left Peace House and were subsequently stuck in a traffic jam for roughly an hour: not an auspicious start. We finally reached Moshi and dropped my friend Christian off after some chai at my favorite spot, boasting the best ginger tea around. Gear change was a struggle to say the least. Stressful was the drive, I tell you. When we hit Marangu town, our car was smoking and unable to move up any grade of a hill. We opened the hood and - as it goes if you stop anywhere in Tanzania with car troubles - men came running from seemingly out of nowhere to see what was a matter.

A silver-headed, collected man by the name of Godfrey immediately emerged as my "chosen one" who could confidently solve our problems, which were many: lack of water in the engine, a hole in a pipe connecting to the radiator and an apparent leak in the radiator itself. After some major water flushing, knifework, refitting and reattachment of pipes and application of some lubricant, healing came - both of the car and of my mambo mengi-sense of being overwhelmed.

Graciously he offered to drive us to Simon's (he was classmates with Simon back in the day at shule ya msingi). Brilliant I thought, utterly relieved to not have to drive anymore and have to fight the screeching of gear change. No brainer - let's go! Twendeni...

Slowly, patiently, God (an appropriate shortening of his name) drove us up the hills to Simon's farmhouse perched way up high where the birds soar. Climbing in first gear the whole way, we inched closer and closer; meanwhile, Tait was furiously texting Simon back in Moshi for a fundi to come and check out what was ailing my little car's power. I was already dreading the ride back.

Somehow, we made it. And Simon's fundi did too the next day. Injector pump speed governor problem, we inquired? That's what God had sensed the day prior. This new expert, Dismas, figured it was the lack of brake/clutch fluid which caused such gear change battles. We promptly tracked down some fluid in Mbahe and thus slept peacefully, not dreaming of gear screeching dancing in our heads.

After enjoying two days in this beautiful village, hiking to Kili's Marangu gate, much bird watching, waterfall hopping, guitar playing with porters and hot showering, it was time to go. Again. We prayed we would have better karma this time; the glass is always half full for optimists, for better or for worse...

Well, worse it was! I wouldn't have believed it if you had told me, but we left at 2 pm and did not return to Peace House until 10:30 pm after being forced to ditch the car, jump on a dala, then a public bus and later a lifti with our school driver/angel, Osca, to finally reach home exhausted and wiped. What a day.

In short (b/c it's too painful to fully elucidate), the car failed 3 times:
1. No clutch connection. Problem: oil hadn't flushed through entire system down to transition. Solution: flush with oil and remove air in connection.
2. No accelerator connection. Problem: Hunter seemed to have snapped the cable somehow. Solution: Find a bike fundi to bring a new cable OR better yet, call my original fundi who was - bahati nzuri - at a funeral in Moshi to come and bring a brand new cable and connect it himself! We went with the latter.
3. Fuel filter failed. Problem: Still a mystery. Solution: Have 5+ guys make a fuel filter out of a plastic petrol container using pure ubunifu, adding diesel and plastic tubes feeding in and out of the engine to literally create a faux filter to get you home until you can buy a replacement.

And this my friends - with faux filter atop our hood strapped in with bungee cords - is how we hobbled back to the outskirts of Moshi town, going about 5 km/hr. It must have been a hilariously RIDICULOUS sight from a distance.

Now to make matters more complicated, I had a guest to welcome back at Peace House the same evening flying in on KLM. I had to move. Quickly. And it was already getting dark. So, we jumped out and demanded that my fundi, Peter, fix everything - and I mean everything this time - and drive it back to Arusha whole. It was his turn to carry the burden.

We jumped out into a dala dala that brought us to a big bus, which in the dark, delivered us into the hands of Osca. At 10:30, having dropped our bags down at my house, I sprinted into our guest house to find our mgeni rasmi, teacher trainer/psychologist from the States, enjoying a glass of wine with our kind Director, pinch-hitting for me. Tomorrow: Teacher training to begin at 8 am! Phew! Barely made it.

What good can we possibly see in a mess like this: the beauty of Tanzanian people, always willing to help (but sure, for compensation for their help) when you're in a jam and for the inherent sense of community for survival here. For that, I went to bed thankful, and for the fact that I was with friends - and guys, better - when this all went down. For my car shidas, on the other hand, I've had it. I'll wait for Peter to return everything he promised to fix to be truly fixed this time (since I've already paid him to do so), and then I'll be looking for a new fundi.

Sigh.

Ndiyo maisha as the saying goes: "this is life." Or is it? If this is life, why do I live here, our Director asked me poignantly.

A valid question. I'll have to reflect more on that one, but my initial response is that life is more fun and satisfying when it's challenging...when it hurts... when it stings...when it overjoys...when you feel so high your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest...when it feels REAL. Sometimes when I'm back in the US, life seems too easy, too comfortable.

But here, life is always very low and very high. Real.

T.I.A.

2009-09-13T06:49:00.000-07:00

TIA - "This is Africa." That's been the theme of my last couple days, and you PCVs and RPCVs out there know exactly what that means: low points. The roller coaster has plummeted again! Despite the high highs of living here, there are, of course, the lows.

That beauty of a car I posted pics of last time is proving to be a real pain in my side. Every rose has it's thorn I'm learning, even with cars...especially in Tanzania.

I have been through more loops that you can fathom trying my level best to first, procure a name change on my registration card (The owner never gave me the original registration card, so I had to track her down in Zimbabwe. Literally. Otherwise, my new best friend (MER!!), the Tanzania Revenue Authority a.k.a. TRA, was threatening to charge me a whopping $500 to have a new one made. That's not bribery at all. Nope).

Then, following the name change saga (BTW: The owner kindly traveled back to Arusha to drop it off for me), I learned I also have to purchase what's called a "Motor Vehicle License" - no big deal, a mere $100 to be on the road. Okay. Okay.

After surfacing post the TRA drama, I felt like all was hunky dory. I had made my way through the darkness, some minor stalls and fixes by my fundi after his major engine overhaul, and the light was on the horizon. I was awaiting my fixed-up car on Saturday (yesterday), bubbling with excitement for my Mid-term break travels the next day (today in theory) with Hunter and his brother Peter visiting from the US....until my fundi (car mechanic) called yesterday evening to report the following in Swahili:

"Furaha am very sorry 4 what had happen. Nilipomaliza kazi wakati nimekwenda kubadilisha nguo mwanafunzi wangu mmoja amejaribu kuwasha gari pasipo mimi kujua na akaingiza gia vibaya gear ya reverse ikafyatuka nimejaribu kuvalisha kwa nje imeshindikana kwa hiyo sina namna zaidi kuitoa tena na kuvisha. So pliz usinisubiri tena nami siwezi kukurudishia gari ambalo halina reverse."

Awesome.

Roughly translated, he says, "Tait, I'm very sorry to tell you when I had just finished fixing your car and went to change clothes, one of my students (i.e. mechanic friends) tried to drive it though I was unaware and blew out the reverse. I can't fix it now so don't wait for me as I am unable to return a car to you today that has no reverse."

The best part: he turned off his phone after sending this message, so I couldn't call him back to find out more details. Clearly, too embarrassed and ashamed to answer to me, he forced me to do something very mature: to tattle tale on him to his brother, my buddy Bernard, with whom I used to work last year (my original connection to this fundi). Bernard eventually got through to someone at his house that was then able to ask Peter what was going on. Current status: still unclear.

One of the most challenging aspects about this culture for me is that it's extremely difficult to discern when someone's telling the truth and when they're lying. The fundi himself could've blown out the reverse for all I know and is instead telling me it was his student who did it. Who and what am I to believe??

Bernard, his older brother, promises me the car will be ready on Tuesday morning at the latest. He texted from a funeral today assuring me he had assigned another additional fundi to the task to speed things up. However, the car was originally promised back in August. I'll believe it when I see it!

I wonder where the fine line is between expecting good out of people and expecting too much? I tend to fall in the latter bracket and end up being disappointed. Note to self: I need to keep my expectations lower!

Our students are back home with guardians, hopefully all salama until the 24th! Upon their return, we'll be participating in our first ever Track & Field Event at a local International school with a track. Just imagine what the javelin will be like for our Maasai students :)...

Also, had a GREAT time reconnecting with Bright Tate and her buddies from PC-Malawi. We cooked an epic breakfast the morning they left for Kili. Go CMW go!
And last but not least, with Ibby and her sweet Baba, Bill, on their way to the big hunt.
My "SMISH" award of this month goes to this lil munchkin, Eric.

My first wheels purchased on the Motherland

2009-08-14T04:35:00.000-07:00

To greater freedom...

Daniel

2009-08-06T21:44:00.000-07:00

I feel compelled to write on yet another reason why I remain - four years later - in love with this country. Our school cook, Daniel, an older gentleman probably in his 50s, approached me yesterday before he climbed into the school van, which takes our staff home every evening. This warm father of three told me smilingly that he had a gift for me tomorrow from his family. I say ‘smilingly’ because this man is all smile. He does everything smilingly, exuding true joy and love every second of the day from every pore. He refuses to shake a hand when he greets; a hug is required and that’s not typical in this culture. Maybe he’s been taken by the hugging culture with all the American huggers frequenting Peace House.

I had completely forgotten about this until today as the day was coming to a close and the staff started wandering towards the van. I call it “the 4 pm exodus.” All of a sudden, there was Daniel at my office door, holding a black grocery bag. He closed it calmly with his hand so I couldn’t look inside, smiled (of course) and gave me a big hug. “Here is what my family wanted to give to you…FREE…it’s yours. For you.” He could not stop smiling. He was beaming in fact. I couldn’t wait to look and see what surprise awaited me.

Inside the bag were the following: a fresh bunch of grapes wrapped in newspaper, a bag of cake muffins, a half kilo of peanuts and…a perfectly ripe avocado. My favorite. Actually, he’d selected many of my favorite items in TZ. How sweet is that?! For no reason. Out of the blue. A bag of goodies. Just because.

It brought me back to Manga, my old Peace Corps village, when my favorite neighbors, Mama Joyce and her five children, would drop a bucket full of sweet potatoes at my doorstep. And they barely had enough to eat themselves. But they would always share. For no reason. Out of the blue. A bucket of goodies. Just because.

These people love unconditionally. These people give beyond their means. And most every day, they make me feel so fortunate to be here, among them, grasping what it truly means to be a human being, relating as family.

Oh Daniel. I will be sleeping sweetly tonight because of your kindness. Thank you. Asante sana baba yangu. How did you know I needed that? He always knows.

Happy likizo. Happy back to work. Happy July.

2009-07-02T03:54:00.000-07:00

On June 12th, we closed up shop at Peace House and the students returned home kunyonya kwa mama, a Swahili saying for "milking on mama" or "to be spoiled by their mothers"; sadly, for the majority of our students, they did not return home to their biological mothers, but to an extended family member like an aunt or a grandmother or a sibling. I often wonder what that would feel like. Would I ever feel completely at home with an aunt, my grandmother or my brother? I guess I'd grow into it, but there's nothing like coming home to my mama. There's no one else in the world that loves you like that, with 9 months memory of holding you inside their belly.

This week, I returned to the office along with my fellow social workers, gardeners, teachers, and cooks to prepare for the students' imminent arrival Sunday. It's been so quiet around here without them. It's eerie in fact - like something's not quite right. It reminds me of staff training the week before summer camp started at Merriewooode - no cabin doors slamming, no splashing and screaming in the lake, no singing on the swings or arguing on the tetherball court.

I'm ready for the students to return. They always put things into perspective, no matter what drama is bubbling in the office. And there is always drama. I dream of escaping politics at the workplace, but I've come to realize: it comes with every job. I guess I have to deal with it and learn from it!

That's what vacation's for eh?! My two weeks off were so refreshing. The first week, Hunter and I spent camping on the Tanga coast. Hunter's best "why are you taking my picture in front of all these people, this is akward" look :)

We rented a piki piki one day and explored the ancient town of Pangani, where Oman people settled in 975 A.D. (the settlement still standing behind this ship on the other side of the water). I had no idea this was the oldest record of civilization in Tanzania's history until our walking tour with Mzee Edward. He's the best in case you're ever looking for a guide in Pangani. I highly recommend it. We chewed on all kinds of historical tibbits, like the name Pangani came from slave masters yelling Pangeni or "let's arrange ourselves" - as in slaves with their respective masters. It's crazy to think of the abuse and struggle felt in this town where the Pangani river meets the Indian ocean, and also to imagine the sheer ecstasy once freedom was announced in December 1961.

Another highlight was visiting Mkoma Bay, a spectacular tented lodge on the coast's edge, run by an RPCV and her Danish husband. PCV/RPCV friends: look them up for your PC discount! www.mkomabay.com. Can't beat this view...

The second week, we celebrated with the Cranes in Dar, spending 'QT' (That's for you Charlie) and saying our goodbyes before they move to Sudan at the end of the month. Jamani, will they be missed! Their home has served practically as a Peace Corps/RPCV/passerby guesthouse, a land of milk and honey, or in layman's terms: Lucy's homemade bagels, cream cheese and homecooked meals with great conversation...topped with Nancy and Charlie's concern for 'what's really going on' in our lives. I so appreciate that.

Speaking of Lucy, beautiful Lucy, we were also able to visit her new home recently constructed via her savings plan working with the Cranes as their housegirl.
We've really bonded over my visits in and out of Dar and I promised the Cranes I'd check on her when they're out of country. Her house is a palace compared to her neighbors homes. To name a few highlights, hers boasts a composting toilet, a kitchen opening up to her living room (quite a rarity; most TZ homes have the kitchen blocked off for the cook/housegirl not to be seen) and water harvesting.

Proud owner of a new home!
Upon returning to A'town, I was able to squeeze in a girls trip (GO V!!!)to the Maasai land to venture up 11,000 ft Ol Donyo Lengai, meaning the mountain of God in Kimaasai. This active volcano intimidates and demands respect to say the least. In other words, it kicked our butts. Seriously. I'm still a bit sore and it's been a week since I exited its never-ending body of quicksand-like ash.
GO V! This one's for you, Diane, our founding club mother.The view from the crater's rim. Can you hear the lava boiling?
Lengai's shadow on the Rift Valley behind us to the West. Stunning. Ngorogoro Crater is on the other side of this wall.
Hannah driving happily; don't let the smile confuse you. Upon closer inspection, what is it she's sporting? A bikini to drive in? A clever solution to a lack of clean clothes.

Our adventure ended with a flat - or shall we say - dessicated tire. I've never seen anything like it. Thank God, angels of the likes of Jackson and Mwenyekiti Goodluck stopped to save from us from our broken jack situation and get us back on the road to safe returns. Asante mungu. We were on His mountain and He delivered us home.

This one wild and precious life

2009-06-02T19:17:00.000-07:00

A new era, a new 'do...

...and sadly, the passing of my sweet Grandaddy

John Dudley King, 88, died Thursday, May 28, 2009 at his Atlanta home. The youngest of six children, he was born December 27, 1920 in Denton, Texas to the late Otis Morrison King and Anne Clare Parks King. Dudley, as he was known to family and friends, graduated from the University of Texas in Austin with pre-medical studies in 1941 and graduated from the Medical School of the University of Texas in Galveston in 1945. He was a member of Phi Rho Sigma Medical Fraternity as well as Alpha Omega Alpha, an honorary fraternity for the top ten members of the class. During his third year of medical school, he married his sweetheart Bea Church to whom he was devoted and happily married for 63 years. After medical school Dudley spent four years at the Cleveland City Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio where he completed his internship and residency. He and Bea then moved to Atlanta, Georgia in 1949 when Dudley was offered a position by Dr. Wadley Glenn at Crawford Long Memorial Hospital where he was the hospital's only radiologist for about three years. During the Korean War Dudley served as a Captain and was sent to Tripler Army Hospital in Honolulu, Hawaii to work in the Radiology Department. Luckily, his growing family was able to accompany him. After his military service, Dudley returned to Crawford Long Hospital, where he spent the remainder of his medical career. In addition, Dudley was a past president of The Atlanta Clinical Society, The Atlanta Radiological Society, The Georgia Radiological Society, The Southern Radiological Society, and a member of The Radiological Society of North America. He was also a founding member and the fourth president of Cherokee Town and Country Club in Atlanta and served on the board of Fulton National Bank. Upon retirement, Dudley and Bea fulfilled Dudley's long-time dream of moving to a farm in North Fulton County where he tended a small herd of Black Angus cattle and a large vegetable garden. They also traveled extensively and included their children and spouses on several special trips. Dudley was predeceased in 2007 by his wife Bea and is survived by their five children: a daughter Christy King Davidson of Atlanta and four sons, J. Dudley King, Jr. and wife Rita of Hilton Head, South Carolina, Thad D. King and wife Suzanne of Atlanta, Marsh B. King and wife Mary Gossett of Atlanta, and Robert C. King and wife Betty of Atlanta. Dudley was also known as 'Granddaddy' and was greatly loved by his seventeen grandchildren, Dudley, III (Tricia), Lindsey (Bob), Michael (Brantley), Stephanie (Aaron), Tait, King, Hunter (Glen), Virginia (Dave), Denton, Chase, Dalton, Brice, Blake, Wilson, Abbie (Ryan), Carter and Parker and his fifteen great-grandchildren, Bennett, Ellie, Katie, Charlie, Cooper, Ryan, Ellis, Grayson, Parks, Will, Carson, Kelsey, James, Brooks and Smith. Dudley loved and appreciated his wonderful caregivers for the past several years: Beverly Danvers, Coraine Bent and Rena Blakeney. A private family service was held on Monday, June 1, 2009. In lieu of flowers the family requests that donations be made in his honor to the Georgia Chapter of the Alzheimer's Association Georgia Chapter, 1925 Century Blvd. NW, Suite 10, Atlanta 30345 or the Shepherd Center, 2020 Peachtree Road, Atlanta 30309.

Mom's visit na kadhalika - favorite pics

2009-05-28T19:23:00.000-07:00

Mother and daughter, reunited in A'town
On my 30th, Mom made me my favorite b-day cake, "Better than BEEP"Hunter's 'LM' mom was also in town visiting and the two moms got a little silly togetherAnd we went hiking up to a village on Meru...
as well as to our next door coffee plantation, Burkaa, where Mom saw Kili for the first time in the distance and Jazz was her adorable, princess self. My favorite Jazz line of the evening: "we can't share the cake with Sam 'cuz he's a boy and he'll eat too much."Everyday life back at the Peace House. Announcements.
Drum lessons with Paulus. He's the man. Will I ever be the (wo)man on the drums?Monduli or Bust. Hunter and I with good friends Zac and Hannah. Go V!Visiting Hunter and Peter's students Petro and Mary at their boma.Atop the well. Run water run...Drama at the breakfast table. Well, not really.

"To be with people you love
To be in a place you love
Something to do that you love
To provide good sustenance for the body
To be at peace with life, whatever that means to you."

-Another's prescription for a good life

We’re privileged to be able to think in this way, when you consider what is going on in the world, where some people have no choice...

"I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"

-An excerpt from A Summer’s Day, by Mary Oliver

Fun shots from the last few months

2009-04-02T22:17:00.000-07:00

My swimming class in all their glory and new snazzy swimsuits from the market:

Hunter's birthday - "Happy" was all the cake said. Full stop. Enough said...

Visiting Orkeeswa Secondary's students singing "Get up, Stand up" Kimaasai style:
The Orkeeswa garden. Grow garden grow..
The same birthday boy playing basketball on Team Arusha:

Life Skills in effect with my class of Form 1s and Form 2s. We just finished the Bridge Model and were acting out missing life skills this day, playing Rita and Lucy (You RPCV's know the one):

A new mode of transport post-Peace Corps. Welcome to piki piki land...
Friends - Peter and Hil - on my hot new drumset. Don't be jealous...Thanks Russells!A shot from our bible study cell group. We meet Wednesdays. And yes, the boys are better singers than the girls. So be it
With friend Helena (daughter of my amazing counterpart in Makambako, Kaduma) celebrating her graduation over lunch. Tres chic kama kawa
Being silly on the way to the Hot SpringsWhat a weirdoA sweet getaway to the Springs with the Bordens. Campout #1 of 2009
She would fall asleep on a book. So typical Lisa:)
Is this what Trevor meant when he sings, "My Dad's a builder and a BREAKER.."?Who would've guessed this guy has back problems?

Mural from a favorite new hangout near Olasiti, a Neeema's of Iringa-like place, where blind,deaf and handicapped Tanzanians are employed making jewelry out of glass. We deposit our bottles there every month. A gorgeous place with gorgeous people. Karibu nawe.

"You may not remember what other people say, but you'll always remember how others make you feel."

On a more positive note...

2009-04-01T22:28:00.000-07:00

Guess who signed up for my new swimming class this term?

The same student who tried to kill herself by drowning a month ago!! If that's not redemption, I don't know what is. I was so touched by this step on her part.

Six female students have joined me to learn how to swim - a skill that's all too rare in this landlocked region, known more for its mountains than its shores. My goal: for them all to hold their breath underwater, to float, to doggy paddle a pool's length and above all - to become less fearful and to build their self-esteem. Water is just a metaphor for all that's seemingly scary and challenging in life. They can overcome it. And when they look back at what once seemed scary, they'll laugh...and hold their heads a bit higher.

Next question: Jamani, what will they wear? (Note: TZ girls/women should never show their thighs - a huge no no. Hmm. I may have to go out and buy them swimsuits in a second hand market (no one selling them new in these parts) along with long spandex to the knee to boot. Nice)

Robbery

2009-03-31T05:17:00.000-07:00

Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, it did. Our office was robbed last weekend of our 3 office computers, printer, copy machine and scanner. Daaaa! It was like a nightmare discovering all these items missing last Sunday. It was so strange and unexpected that I actually texted our Director to ensure the computers weren't checked out for maintenance! Ah, naive Tait. That...or we were robbed. Sadly, it was the latter and clearly an inside job as the door was opened and then closed with a key. This ugly mess was masterminded by someone I've been drinking chai with every day, someone I've sat next to in staff meetings, someone with whom I've shared morning and evening greetings...

It could also explain why my keys went missing a couple weeks back on our Open House celebration day (pics coming soon) - a hectic day which kept me completely occupied and my bag unattended. We (Senior staff and police) assume my keys were stolen off my bag that day so as to facilitate this coup. Ouch, this hurt. It still stings.

The worst part is what an incident like this does to the culture of a workplace, especially within a school, and particularly one in which trust is already a struggle amongst staff. For the last week, everyone seemed to be looking around, asking themselves, could it be _____? Yuck.

What we need desperately is: UNITY. Cooperation. Trust. Humility. Servant hearts. And just when I felt like we were rounding a corner, another blow comes. The Peace House - also known as the nyumba ya amani - when will it live up to its name?

I feel like more than any other year I've spent in TZ, I'm privvy to so much ugliness (as exists everywhere, in all cultures) - almost more than I can swallow. Is it that I'm seeped in deeper than I was before, living and working on a school campus? Is it because I've never been involved with such a well-funded institution and been around so much money, the root of evil? Is it because we're on a precipice in our development as a school - about to experience a major breakthrough?

Lord, let it be the latter!

"Educate - Nurture - Innovate." Sometimes I wonder if I'm meant to nurture the staff or the students? For now, it seems my efforts are being pulled in the direction of the staff so that the students can be better cared for, so that we reflect health and wholeness to them. Afterall, they - the students - are the reason this school is here in the first place. Funny how teachers in this country can forget that. Does a school exist for teachers or for students? It's easy for us Westerners to say. Therein lies the tension I've been feeling since January.

Thank you to Judy for your prayers for authority, for the gift that is words of wisdom and for a garden(s) to grow my own soul's refreshment.

Chase Russell's Prophesy

2009-03-18T02:57:00.000-07:00

"Remember this and pursue it: I love deserts because I love to make them beautiful. I love brokenness because I love to make whole what is broken. Don't avoid broken things during your life. That's where I am, making beauty. And when ugliness becomes beauty, it is more beautiful than any other beauty. Don't avoid the broken places. If you seek my beauty, go to where it is ugly; if you seek my fullness, go to where it is empty; if you seek my revival, go to where it is dead; if you seek happiness, go to where there is much suffering. For there I will be, for there will I work my restoration. Remain in me and embrace the broken places."

The toughest day

2009-03-09T23:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, around 7:45 am, at our morning flag-raising ceremony, our Headmistress announced in front of the whole school, that a student was found trying to kill herself on Sunday. My stomach instantly went into my mouth. What?! In an angry tone, she then demanded that students not concern themselves with "romance issues." Apparently, most staff presume this young girl was led to this desperate attenmpt due to being troubled by a break-up with her boyfriend. Cultural side note: having a boyfriend or girlfriend is strictly prohibited here, especially at boarding schools where "romance" can lead to pregnancy in a blink of an eye...and pregnancy translates into students being expelled.

Following this disturbing tangazo, a male and female member of our Journalism club proceeded to announce school news - about the netball team being "too lazy" and losing their matches the previous week, as well as mentioning the suicide attempt - at which everyone laughed. I was furious. Raging, I asked to enter the flag circle for an announcement of my own. I begged the male journalism club student to please not make inappropriate announcements as he had just done. Calling our netballers (all girls mind you) "lazy" is completely unacceptable and unfair. Not to mention rude. Why aren't we encouraging one another, I asked the 185 students and 43 staff members? The netballers may not be winning, but they are making the school proud in trying. We need a spirit of encouragement on this campus, not discouragement, I said firmly.

I returned to stand with the staff, still enraged, my blood boiling...and remained in this state the rest of the day. Still am, to be honest. How could we make suicide a laughing matter? How do you think the girl felt who tried to kill herself as these announcements were made about her? Perhaps this is cultural, that the sanctity of life is less in a place where death occurs constantly, without explanation. Laughing at it may be the only consolation they have. But it'll never be humorous to me. Never. As someone who's lost friends and family to suicide, I am deeply pained when I hear of young people weighed down to the point that they'd rather not live. That utter sense of hopelessness DESTROYS me. Moreover, as a social worker here, this is why I'm here - to instill hope in our students, to support and love on them. I felt like a failure, personally and on behalf of the school community - that we had all failed this girl somehow.

Meanwhile, my Tanzanian cohorts were/are still blaming this girl for being involved in "romance." It was as if it was her fault having these desperate feelings. I wonder if her feelings have ever been validated...if she's EVER been listened to and had someone say, "I'm so sorry. I feel you. I hear you." My inclination is to think that no - never has she expressed her fears or been felt/truly heard. And this sense of feeling so alone, led her to do what she did.

Needless to say, the cultural differences involved in the response to such an incident frustrate me to no end. Death - particularly suicide - is a totally different entity in this culture. So, how will we respond as a school, as teachers, as staff? Will we reach out more to the students? Will we look internally, each of us, as to how we can be better "mothers" and "fathers", "sisters" and "brothers" to our students? Or will we blame this poor girl for her hopelessness, jamani. I pray it's not the latter.

As one person walking upstream, I'm fighting a very strong cultural current. I can't help but wonder how much difference I can make on this campus. But I'll keep fighting all the same for what is right, for what God stands for - building one another up, love, justice, equality, hope - to name a few. I will not give up. And I will do my best to not allow my students to do so either.

"Dear brothers and sisters, I close my letter with these last words: Rejoice. Change your ways. Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you."
*2 Corinthians 13:11

Gooood weekend

2009-02-23T00:05:00.001-08:00

This past Saturday, our Social Work department hosted the Peace House's very first "Career Panel." Our special guests included my friend Frida Tomito, an A'town resident, currently coordinating exchanges with Arcadia University study abroad and research programs, and Father Jack, a pilot and priest whose parish neighbors the Peace House. The pilot stole the show since most of our students are fascinated by planes as we border the Arusha airport. He had them on the edge of their seats, even showing a DVD of personal footage flying in his Cessna from Austria to Egypt over Sudan and finally landing back in TZ. He encouraged our students to pursue something they're interested in and passionate about as opposed to working for money only; that'll come with time, he explained. Frida pushed the kids to take advantage of this blessing called free (nearly free - each child's family is requested to contribute a mere $20/year for tuition) education.

Jack also encouraged them to read about the career that most tugs at their hearts and minds. If you want to become a pilot, read everything you can on the subject, he advised. Unfortunately, it's nearly impossible for most Tanzanians - especially vulnerable ones - to afford pilot training and certification, but you never know...opportunities could arise later. And you might as well learn about it in the meantime.

Being curious: it's an attribute I've been emphasizing as well in my time with the kids. It's not a cultural norm, but I hope to increase the question-asking habit around campus, particularly amongst the girls. From what I've observed so far, it's minimal. I'm not surprised; this is no different from the other communities I've worked with in TZ. This is the way it is. But it doesn't have to be.

On Sunday after service, we hosted Muindaji, a local musician, who soothed the students like Sade to tunes like "Africa unite" and other Bob Marley and Otis Redding numbers. It was a hit. He was informed this weekend - after a year of living here - that his name is actually Muindaji (Hunter), not Mwindaji (someone who goes). Hmmm. Better too late than never.

During the Sunday service, which is Lutheran in style (our school land is on Lutheran church grounds), our headmistresses' 2-year old son joined me on my lap. Daniel has officially replaced my previous church cuddling partner in Manga, dada Tumaini. There's just something magical about holding a child on your lap. Throughout the service, he sucked LOUDLY on three to four of his fingers. Precious. And he tried on my watch like it was no big thing. He's fascinated with technology; so far my headlamp, watch and keys have provided the most entertainment.

Lutheran we may be, but what about our Muslim students? Where and how do they worship? Hence, my very first question when I arrived to PH. Unfortunately, our hands seem to be tied due to our contractual agreement with the Lutheran church. I wonder if and how this may be changed. Muslim students deserve the opportunity to worship in their own way. Most of the staff say they should just be thankful to be here and should adjust accordingly. Unfortunately, we're a far cry from implementing religious freedom, but hopefully with time, things will change.

I was reminded of the last worship I attended (which I forgot to blog about) when I completely forget an offering; having noticed my lack of change, the boy sitting to my left unhaltingly handed me half of his offering so that I could contribute at that altar as we do here. He had the equivalent of 20 cents. So I gave 10 and he gave 10. True generosity. Though no one can deny the insane level of fisadi or corruption in this country - clearly, at the core of most Tanzanians is this seflessness, an unconditional sense of sharing, giving and loving.

These kids are really growing on me...

"Time is a flowing river. Happy those who allow themselves to be carried, unresisting with the current. They float through easy days. They live, unquestioning, in the moment."
- Christopher Morley

First month of work down. First drumming lesson had.

2009-02-18T06:28:00.001-08:00

Some students at our Saturday service day, volunteering farming acumen at a local primary school. A large part of my responsibilities includes planning Saturday and Sunday activities.
Our first away netball match at the International School-Arusha. This is the first time our girls had ever worn position-appropriate jerseys, played on a legitimate court and were reffed using international netball rules. Who knew they existed??
Sauti za Busara - The Sounds of Wisdom, Zanzibar Music Fest in Stonetown's old fort.

Now back to this drumming thing. What?, you ask.

Well, in honor of the new year and my 30th birthday just around the corner, I decided - along with some help/encouragement from my friends - to pursue drumming. Ever since I was a 4th grader at Warren T. Jackson, I've had a strong, unexplicable desire to play drums (too loud, said Mom:). Every time I listen to music, I hone in on the drums. When I dance, it's the beat that takes me away. And here I am, drawn like a magnet to Africa, a continent whose instrument - if one had to choose - would be the drum. Drumming is an essential part of life here, playing a role in every major, cultural event - weddings, funerals, church services, village warning calls, etc. My spirit says go for it. I must give drumming a try. No regrets.

Funny coincidences so far:
-First, a wise woman encouraged me to take drumming lessons; going after a desire that's been left untended will uplift and grow me, right?!
-Second, I attended a wedding where the bride's aunt (50+ years old and wearing a fancy gown, mind you) rocked the drums to "We are Family." She's apparently in a band back in Birmingham. I've never been so awestruck. It was a breathtaking, inspiring performace to say the least.
-Third, last week, I brought my students (pictured above) for netball and soccer matches at a nearby International School and coincidentally, ran into the drumming teacher. What? You have a drumming teacher? Yup. Sign me up.
-Fourth, at a dinner party last weekend, I mentioned my upcoming first lesson and this family brought it to my attention that there's a drum set up for grabs from some family leaving the country! This is getting weird.

And voila, three days after leaving Zanzibar's Music Fest is the inception of my new drumming hobby. I had my first lesson today with instructor Paulus and jamani, it was so much fun - quite a rush. Who knows, next week, I may even have a drum set in my house so I can brush up on beats at my leisure. My students may be a little shocked to hear my practice sessions. I'll have to select non-class/study time.

Welcome to our living room; don't mind the drumset.

Follow your inspiration. To what is it calling you?

Colin Borden (a good friend from Arusha), Hunter and I at the Zanzibar Music Fest last weekend. Not to be missed.
This is a SMISH. What is a SMISH? I'm still waiting on Webster's to get back to me on that. Please send any inquiries to Sarah Flint.

In the love of Kate Scully and Manga

2009-01-28T10:10:00.000-08:00

Kate Scully has just posted her Peace Corps Partnership Project (PCPP). Who's Kate you wonder? Kate serves as the Peace Corps Volunteer doing health education work in my old village of Manga. What's a PCPP? This is like my girls dorm construction project back in 2006 that many of you supported. What's great about PCPPs is that you know every dime you contribute goes straight to the volunteer on the ground. The results are extremely impactful.

Kate is hoping to develop a new center and school to empower orphans/vulnerable kids of Manga and needs support. Developed out of a clear, pressing community need, this project will be implemented by Kate along with community leaders. This project is sure to benefit Manga's community for years to come.

In order to implement this project, Kate must raise $7200 from friends, family and other organizations in the US of A. She and the people of Manga are asking for assistance to turn this project into a reality.

The easiest way to contribute is to go to www.peacecorps.gov/contribute and select her project (Project Number 621-175). The web site is the safest and quickest way to make a donation.

Here's what Kate's written about the project (on PC site):

This project aims to found a Center and School for Orphans that will serve 88 orphans in a village in Tanzania. The center will provide those children who fail their 7th grade exams an opportunity to continue their education through vocational training right in the village where they live.

The school will be a training center for sewing and carpentry skills, and a classroom center for orphans who are still in primary school. The classroom center will help orphans prepare for their end of school exams and learn life skills and health information. Eventually, community members involved with the Center will receive income-generation training so that they can continue to expand the capacity of the Center. The number of orphans that this project hopes to assist is not finite. The school will continue to increase its capacity over the coming years and will, hopefully, help an increasing number of this village’s orphans.

If you're looking for a worthy cause, look no further.

Go Kate go. Najivunia wewe...

Initial impressions

2009-01-12T07:51:00.001-08:00

This was how I was welcomed back to Tanzania - with a breathtaking view of Mt.Kilimanjaro out the plane window (while Mt. Meru was on my right). I was beaming.
I was then graciously shuttled by Enoch (not to be confused with 'eunoch') and Jenaya in a yellow 4X4 (nicknamed ndizi or 'the banana') to the Peace House campus under full moon light. I insisted on driving down the 5k dirt road to the school, which branches off the main road, eventually leading to the Serengeti plains. I know, I know - what a rebel am I. You don't understand. I was not permitted to drive for 3 years while in the Peace Corps. I feel like have finally arrived. To where? That's yet to be determined. But somewhere. Somehow. I have my driving test tomorrow to receive my official driving permit. It's a whole new world.
Since arriving, I've been settling into my new home, a 3 bedroom house on campus, which I'm sharing with Jenaya. It sits in quite a setting, isn't it? It is.

Our house on left; boarding facilities and dining hall in distance on right.
Karibuni nyumbani! Come visit. You'll be warmly welcomed by my roommate, Jenaya, and I. Promise. Jenaya's serving as the school's Volunteer Coordinator.
My highlight today: our school mini-bus getting stuck in the dirt in front of our house. Mmm. Our bus driver, Osca, a fellow Mbena, went overboard here, his genteel and charm overriding all sensibility. I love the guy. I knew I was at home when I met him. Origally from Iringa, he speaks my old village dialect and couldn't be more genuine. Everytime I use a Kibena greeting, he chuckles...and then translates what I said in Swahili to anyone around willing to listen. He'll be a good friend. Osca's behind the wheel if you can make him out, along with several of our students lending a hand.
The best part of this whole quandary:"God is Great" printed on this sweet bus's front window. Au siyo?

And that about sums up my first few days back in Tanzania. God is great. I'm beyond thankful to be home again and to have this opportunity to empower young people in such a spectacular setting. It feels like a mix of my last two sites: village and city; we're nestled in the peace and quiet of a village, yet we're a 20-minute drive from A'town hustle and bustle. I have to say - this beats living behind a mall.

My new job beginning in 2009 is...

2008-12-12T06:57:00.000-08:00

at the Peace House, a secondary school in Arusha, Tanzania dedicated to providing orphans/vulnerable children with a quality and dynamic high school education so that they can reach their full potential, academically, physically and spiritually. Read more about this new school's founding, founder and mission at:

http://www.peacehousefoundation.org/index.html

http://www.startribune.com/business/33272494.html?elr=KArksi8cyaiU9PmP:QiUiacyKUnciatkEP7DhU

http://www.startribune.com/business/33272489.html?elr=KArks:DCiU1OiP:DiiUiD3aPc:_Yyc:aULPQL7PQLanchO7DiU

http://www.apria.com/resources/1,2725,494-836307,00.html

Want to meet some of Peace House's students?

Richard: http://www.peacehousefoundation.org/richard.html

Francisca: http://www.peacehousefoundation.org/francisca.html

Will you write me? Just because I'm going again doesn't mean I don't want to stay close with you friends! Stay in touch. Write a letter, like old times. It'll make you feel good:

Tait Davidson
c/o The Peace House
PO Box 13386
(Mt Meru Posta)
Arusha, Tanzania
East Africa

Otherwise, email will be a flowing. You know where to find me!

And hey, if you want to visit and do something different this year/next year, the Peace House is quite accomodating of volunteers, short and long term. More details at: http://www.peacehousefoundation.org/volunteerTZ.html

On joy and sorrow

2008-12-10T19:53:00.000-08:00

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater thar sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

-Kahlil Gibran

Siku ya Shukrani/Day of Thanks

2008-11-27T14:00:00.000-08:00

As my friend Lisa so eloquently described on her site (http://www.letsputthekettleon.blogspot.com):
"The Thanksgiving holiday is not just about assessing our material circumstances and being grateful for bounty. Thanksgiving is about the pause to process what we have been through and where we are now. The pilgrims were, obviously, thankful for the bounty of food they could prepare. But they were thankful for it precisely because they had been through so much. A bitter winter with ravenous disease and a severe lack of food and good shelter had taken a harsh toll on their small community. Greatly reduced in number, they had come through these and learned how to survive in their new environment. Though it had been extraordinarily tough, they recognized God’s care for them."

I want to do just that today - to pause to process and to reflect on where I am, exuding thanks particularly to those who helped me arrive to this moment. Of course, there are so many and my blog would be never-ending if I expressed thanks to EVERYone. So, I'll just focus on the last few months, through post-PC travels and since back home...

TRAVELS
"In this world, there are things you can only do alone and things you can only do with somebody else. It's important to combine the two in just the right amount."
-Haruki Murakami
Jen and Maya 'Maxwell.' I couldn't have done that trip through the wilds of lake Tanganyika, magnificent Malawi and Portuguese-speaking Mozambique without you two. Nor would I have wanted to embrace the magic alone. We met crazy and beautiful people and circumstances along the way and laughed our way through each of them. We made a good team. We budgeted (or Maya did for us:). We networked (you know it). We hitched rides that would have seemed plain stupid just a few years prior (can you make out Maya's toes amongst the goats?). We took care of each other, removing funzas as a team and even creating our own vocabulary for protection (usimHerman). We learned new things (slap shot anyone?). We gave and received feedback (tupo tried and true life skills teachers). We watched many a sun set and sun rise. I'll never forget the sunsets over what felt like the edge of the earth in Kigoma and then on Lake T as we speedboated. Thank you my sisters for the kumbukumbu.

And to all those who took us in or taught us something during our safari, I thank you. I wish I remembered all of your names. I certainly remember your faces. Here's an abbreviated version:
Thank you Crane family for your unceasing TLC.
Thank you Herman and friends for treating us like queens and teaching us about the UN piloting-for-relief scene in Kigoma.
Thank you Hussein for sharing your love of nature and your friends, the chimps, with us.
Thank you MEMP. We love your house.
Thank you Mateso. I love your coconut beans. Usikate tamaa.
Thank you MV Liemba for the good times. Kicking it since 1913. Thank you Catharina and Tim Flanagan for inspiring so many with your young spirits.
Thank you Adrienne for reminding me at Kalambo Falls the worthiness of assisting kids dealt an unfair hand, who so desperately want to improve their lives. Jipe moyo. Thank you Raos for the bike lifti to the Falls. Ulinichekesha.
Thank you Moravian church for the life-saving lifti to the crossroads, for reminding me that everything is unfolding exactly as it should.
Thank you Doris of tiny guesti in Kasanga for asking me bafuni why some of us wazungu don't like to interact, and why we (Maya, Jen and I) were different. I'm sorry not everyone treats you with the dignity you deserve, dada yangu.
Thank you Mary for being the last mama I was able to sit with jikoni in TZ. Keep on sporting that Argentina shirt with pride, mpishi wetu.
Thank you Chanza, Uncle Mike and Ash for entertaining us in Sumbawanga. Usituchanza!
Thank you Deb McCracken for playing hostess for the mostest, including running guide up mountains. Karibu A'town.
Thank you Wiz, PCV star of Tumbuko.
Thank you Bright Tate, the one and only of the Ntchisi Forrest. You are the coolest.
Thank you sweet mama on the truck to Bright's site (in Mwansambo), who'd fallen on her face and lip. Thank you for reminding me how tough it is to be a woman in so many places. I pray you were helped and stitched in that hospital where we dropped you. I hope you were cared for like you've cared for so many.
Thank you PC-Malawi. Ya'll rock. Almost as much as PC-Tanzania :).
Thank you Nick and Lindsey Wood. Is there any couple more generous, gracious?
Thank you Scott, PCV of Mt. Mulanje. Your passion is infectious! Keep on sharing that magical mountain and all its wonder.
Thank you Tait Wade and Christina for making the world feel smaller.
Thank you lovely PC ladies of Vilankulo, for sharing your time and home with us.
Thank you Jit and gang for the good conversations and laughs in Tofu and Jo'burg.
Thank you CD and family for opening your home in Maputo wide open and for showering us with your love...and first world amenities :).

"The moment you love, you are unlimited" - Yogi Tea (imbibed at the Mushroom Farm in Malawi)

BACK HOME in the US of A
I want to thank...
My mom, who loves me unconditionally no matter how weird I feel or how weird I am!
My brother, who graciously hosted me on his couch for a week. Mr. responsable, he is on track, earning a solid living - someone in the family has to do it. :)
My uncles and aunts who support me even though I'm doing things a little differently.
Hanner and Corrie, my oldest and truest sisters in ATL. Thanks for being there, for understanding. Always.
Hilbean for being the best listener I know. Period.
K.B. for keeping things real.
Mwindaji kwa kunisikiliza, kunihimiza na kunifarijika kwa musiki yako.
Childers who makes me laugh. Hard.
Lee Lee for your sweet sweet spirit and empathy. And love for chocolate truffles.
Stef for your spontaneity and loyalty (which borders on insane sometimes). Tupo pamoja kabisa, from Mlalo to Marekani.
Scottie for your support and humor. You're still the guy who rapped all of "Baby Got Back" for our skit. We, I haven't forgotten.
Bomba Mbaya for being the best 'other' brother I could ask for. And for your chivalry, bila shaka.
Karen Blanchard for your guidance and support through the grueling thesis process. Thanks for sharing your light.
Barack Obama for bringing a new paradigm of servant leadership to our country and world.

And for Brattleboro and the SIT Graduate Institute, a place of great growth, whose students and learning environment helps so many become better.

"Somewhere are places where we have really been, dear spaces of our deeds and faces, scenes we remember as unchanging because there we changed."
- W.H. Auden

In closing this monologue of thanks, I thought I'd share some Inspiration from the Wood's refrigerator in Blantyre:
"May God bless us with discomfort at easy answer, half-truths and superficial relationships so that we may live from deep within our hearts.
May God bless us with anger at injustice, oppression and exploitation of God's creations so that we may work for justice, freedom and peace.
May God bless us with tears to shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war, so that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless us with just enough foolishness to believe that we can make a difference in the world, so that we can do what others claim cannot be done: to bring justice and kindness to all our children and neighbors."
Amen.

what's weird

2008-11-10T21:17:00.000-08:00

squirrels. squirrels run over in the street:(. fresh squeezed lemonade. ice. comfy beds with lots of pillows. driving. charging everything on a credit card. nice, well-fed dogs. being called by my real name. not drinking tea around 10 am. good music in every form of transport. fall leaves. customer service. tipping. wine that's not necessarily south african and not from a box. salmon. bagels. cream cheese. all varieties of cheese. talking on the phone without having to refill on vouchers. everyone - of all ages and all occupations - now using a blackberry or an iphone. having doors opened for me. toilet paper and paper towels in every bathroom. ambulance sirens...

I say

2008-11-06T17:42:00.000-08:00

I'm proud to be an American again.
And I am now officially Tait Davidson M.A. Now clearly, I didn't do it for the title, but I must say - it feels oh so good to have my Master's done and done. The long "Master's International" journey is over...and so is 8 years of Bush in office.
I presented my thesis on orphan care and support in Tanzania the day after Obama was elected president. What a joy that was. I even inserted this slide into my Powerpoint for laughs (the same way I learned he had won on TV):

Barack Obama
44th President of the United States of America

You better believe it.
Say it again.
Ahhhhhh. So happy.
I have not stopped smiling since 11 pm Tuesday night.
I have a feeling our new president will keep us smiling.

I love...

2008-10-27T19:52:00.000-07:00

Small worlds! Really. Is there anything better?

I flew back from Guatemala today (was there for a close high school friend's wedding - magical) and who did I run into in the airport, but Victor, the Director of the orphanage my friend Alice and I visited back in May in Western Rwanda! What?!

I love chance encounters like that. It was too sweet being present with that inspiring man again...and not just anywhere, but in his home country. Of all places! He was home visiting his Mom, who's on the mend in Guatemala City.

Grace. Getting what we don't deserve. It is a gift, totally unearned and unexpected, one that we could have never orchestrated on our own... "The presence of God can be experienced as much between people as in them, and God's grace is what makes the connections between people that wouldn't happen otherwise" (John V. Taylor)... "It's a little bit of extra help when you're feeling stuck or doomed or, probably, hopefully, out of good ideas on how to save yourself, and how to salvage the situation or the friendship or the whatever it is..I wish it was accompanied by harp music so you could know that's what was happening but for me it's that extra pause or that extra breath or that extra minute's patience against all odds" (Anne Lamott).

I like that. These quotes originate in a super book I just read, graciously sent to me from the author, Cathleen Falsani, whom I met on her visit to Global Alliance this past year. I feel special because it's the first time my name's ever been mentioned in a famous person's book. Thanks Cathleen. I was happy to learn you're an ENFP, too. And hey, your book's nzuri sana. It was just what I needed to read upon returning home.

Look it up friends: Sin Boldly by Cathleen Falsani.

"We show each other grace, we are grace for one another, and I'd like to think we inspire each other to be gracious to the rest of the world."

"Sin boldly. Believe boldly. Rejoice boldly. Pray boldly."

"One is changed by what one loves." - Joseph Brodsky

"Got to let go of the things that keep you tethered; take your place with grace and then be on your way." - Bruce Cockburn

On my way I go - back to SIT for my Master's thesis presentation. It's been four years in the making. I'm anxious to be done, but I'm trying to remember: IT'S ABOUT THE PROCESS, NOT THE PRODUCT. You PIM 64-ers out there know what I'm talking about!

Back "home"

2008-10-20T05:03:00.000-07:00

"I had a dream I..stood beneath an orange sky. Yes I had a dream I..stood beneath an orange sky. With my brother standing by..said brother you know..it's a long road we've been walking on..such a long road we've been walking on. And I had a dream I..stood beneath an orange sky..with my sister standing by. I said sister, here is what I know now..in your love, my salvation lies..in your love..my salvation lies in your love, in your love, in your love. But sister, you know I'm so weary. And you know sister, my heart's been broken. Sometimes, sometimes, my mind is too strong..to carry on. When I am alone..when I've thrown off the weight of this crazy stone..when I've lost all care for the things I own..that's when I miss you..Well, I had a dream I..stood beneath an orange sky with my brother and my sister standing by."
-Alexi Murdoch, Orange Sky

Home sweet home. What does that mean anyway - "home?" Is it where my Mom or Dad lives? Is it where I'm currently working, living? Is it France or Tanzania or America? Georgia or Florida or North Carolina or California? Is it where the heart is, as the saying goes? If that's the case, then my home is a lot of places.

Feeling "home" in a lot of places - is that a bad thing, I wonder, strolling through the Atlanta airport? I haven't been in Hartsfield, the busiest airport in the world, in about 14 months since my last trip back for my grandmother's funeral. I take a deep breath, appreciating the energy and diversity one senses in an airport, a crossroads leading to any major city in the world.

How ironic it feels, passing a crew of soldiers, decked in camo, heading to or from war, I'm not sure. In walks the returning Peace Corps volunteer - me - the antithesis to what they all stand for, to what they say to the world. Peace or war? Exchange or isolation? I say peace wins. I think Obama's got the right idea when he says he wants to double the Peace Corps. Change, real change happens on a person-to-person level, through relationships. How can we hate Muslims when we know Muslims? We can't discriminate or judge when we relate as human beings. Wouldn't the world be different if we could simply view each other as human beings, instead of as 'this' (insert the box of your choosing), or as 'that'?!

"If we change the way we look at things, the things we look at change" -A billboard in Johannesburg

My thoughts wander back to the elections, a mere two weeks away. Aside from the market crashing, what an ideal time it is to return back to the US. This election is historic, especially in the city of Atlanta, where Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream was born for freedom for all, black and white. At long last, in 2008, a black man named Obama stands on a precipice, about to become the leader of our nation, our world. Imagine what his election as president, a true representation of America as a melting pot, will say to the world! So many thought they'd never see the day. The day will come. The day is near.

"We are on a security threat level, code orange...please pay attention to your belongings" echoes above me on the loud speaker. Rudely awakened from my daydreaming, I ask myself, did I hear that right?! Unfortunately, yes. The echo returns. I am indeed back in the fear-filled United States.

Why must we be overtaken, controlled by this fear? This is exactly what's keeping us insular, separated from the rest of the world. This same fear is what is preventing so many from supporting Obama. He's not what they know. He's not comfortable, relatable, likeable, some argue. I'm proud to say Obama is all of those things to me.

Maybe it's because my home's in so many places that he is relatable. I have left the bubble of Buckhead, Atlanta. I have studied and worked abroad. I have befriended Muslims. I have known and loved people that are unlike me. And I have felt a deep, human connection with these same people. I had a Muslim guide in Mahale National Park named Hussein and didn't think twice about it. He is my brother. He is my friend. We are all connected if we have a heart beat.

If Peace Corps has taught me anything, it's taught me what it means to be a human being and how to love other human beings. It's shown me that we are all essentially the same. It's revealed to me the powerful, magical network that is life...and that life is about relationships, about connecting. Period.

Peace Corps has also exposed my humanness, my strengths and weaknesses - mostly the latter. I am not perfect. I am broken. I am weak. But I am also strong.

"Above all the grace and the gifts that Christ gives to his beloved is that of overcoming self." -St. Francis of Assisi

I amble on, refusing to enter the shuttle, the fastest way to baggage claim. Instead, I opt for traversing the Zimbabwe exhibit, which has been displaying sculpture and radiating drumbeats down a long corridor since I can remember. I live for that little stretch before entering reality again. It's my last taste of Africa for a while.

And with a giant exhale, I put my weight on the giant escalator leading up, up, up...to my Mom's embrace. It feels good to be home, even if this is just one of the many homes where my heart resides.

"Be content with what you have...never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." -Hebrews 13:5

"To be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others." -Mandela (from Apartheid Museum in Jo'burg)

*MY NEW MOBILE #: 404.645.2717*

Post-PC travels (updated)...

2008-10-15T10:25:00.000-07:00

I. Tanzania (see Jen's blog - link on right)
Our travels through TZ consisted of copious amounts of time on Lake Tanganyika ("tanga" meaning sail and "nyika" meaning wilderness), a body of water not visited by the three of us during our service. So vast, it felt like an ocean.

Departing for Mahale National Park, speed-boating out of Kilando village on the shore.

Sokwe or chimpanzees we observed in Mahale. Yes, they're real.

Jen, Maya and our friend and guide, Hussein, at a swimming hole in the Park.

Maya, the dare devil, living life on the edge at Kalambo Falls at the end of Lake Tanganyika. Transportation required to arrive at the falls: 1 lorry lifti (45 minutes), 1 bike lifti (3 hours), a lifti in a bishop's Land Cruiser (20 minutes) and a coaster ride back to Kasanga (45 minutes) - all in one day. We should write a book on liftis after this journey. Scoring liftis entails serious patience and creativity, but boy are they satisfying.

II. Malawi
Double-click on map for a closer look (http://www.jacanaent.com/Maps/Malawi1.gif)

Officially departed from Tanzania, we had just stamped our passports at Malawi Immigration and changed our beloved shilingi into kwacha. Leaving is such sweet sorrow...

I apologize, but I couldn't resist sharing this moment on my first mini-bus in Malawi: vomit. All over me and my window. The woman sitting 2 seats in front of me "spilled her milk," if you will, and I tried my hardest not to cry over it. Repulsive.

Malawi is a cozy country nestled between mountains on the East and a spectacular lake on the West, quite fittingly called Lake Malawi. Since departing our beloved Tanzania and entering through the Northern town of Karonga, we've enjoyed a forest lodge above Chitimba, not far from Livingstonia, where we toured the "Stonehouse," a museum with history on Livingstone and Malawi in general. We then bounced to a Peace Corps gathering on the lake (near Chinteche), where we camped on the beach along with about 40 other volunteers. It's bizarre yet great really how similar all of our journeys are as PCV's, no matter where we're serving. "He just ET'd, how sad...What'd you think of MSC?...Have you tried that bagel recipe in the cookbook?...Let's go get some rice and beans in the market to save money eh?..." Now wouldn't those be the same conversations overheard at any PC-TZ gathering?

A quintissential Malawian cafe. Note the milk tea and fresh scones. Mmmm. They've got Tanzania won on breakfast breads.

We were invited as honored guests by my old Camp Merrie-Woode friend, Bright Tate. Great name huh? We hadn't seen each other since 1990, yet not much has changed. I've been beaming since the moment she ran up and hugged me in her red surfing shorts and Coca-Cola t-shirt. I couldn't help remembering the old CMW adage: "Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other's gold."

After enjoying the lakeshore and overloading on too many peanut-butter sandwiches, we ventured via "hitching" as they call it here in PC-Malawi (i.e. catching any lifti, dala or truck one can find) to Bright's site on the Ntchisi Plateau. The girl lives at the gate to Ntchisi Forest, a national conservation site, where she's serving as a Forest Officer. Jealous anyone? Green with envy perhaps? Well, there's reason to be - her site is a spot dreams are made of. Bas.

*If you'd like to read/see more, this historical Ntchisi lodge sits practically nextdoor to her site: www.ntchisi.com*

Lifti #105? on the way to Ntchisi. This was one fine vehicle. Bags already strapped on the back. Tieni!

The three of us felt like we had somehow "come home" as we caught up on laundry (hand washing like the good ole days at the watering hole), made home-cooked meals over a gas stove (thanks to Bright's mom, even Velveeta cheese made an appearance), slept starting at 9 pm every night (darkness is powerful in the village!), cherished sunsets over the magnificent mountains, and laid out every night in her courtyard to talk, listen to BBC and admire the sky full of stars. Bright taught me about Scorpius. I'll remember that. She also shared her beloved forest with us on our last day where we traipsed through lush plant life, passing monstrous trees, and crossing small streams as monkeys and birds called high above. It's been the highlight of Malawi for me to date. I'm so grateful for having had a village experience, for hearing the local greetings, for acquiring more of a pulse of what real Malawi life looks, tastes and feels like, albeit brief.

"Muli bwanji?" "Tulibwino"...Chichewa is tough, but similar to Kibena in its structure. Thankfully, Bantu languages have a lot in common. Still, we Tanzania RPCV's are aching to speak Swahili, to connect on a deeper level with people, and have only found a few Swahili speakers to engage with so far. We ain't in Tanzania anymore are we?!

At last, we have found ourselves in the capital: Lilongwe. Bright guided us here from her village via small buses this morning and led us promptly to our new haven: the PC transit house. Yes, PC-Malawi is blessed enough to have houses for current volunteers to rest and cook - complete with full kitchen, refrigerator and grill for BBQ'ing in their expansive lawn. Furthermore, there are full-time staff who clean sheets and guards who ensure security. Although PCV's here have spoken poorly about "the big city," preferring Blantyre, I'm impressed with the greenery, landscaping and manageability of the place so far...not to mention the TLC!

You like my COS tattoo Mom?

Moreover, I'm ecstatic to have some days to recuperate the old body and relish in some city comforts, especially since it's been over 10 days since I've slept in a real bed. Am I getting old? (speaking of, we have a list going in my journal - a wazee competition of sorts - of all of our ailments to date) Camping on cement floors and sand isn't cutting it for my 29-year old self. My body's clearly fatigued, but my soul is still shining. It's time I listen to my body and give it some of what it wants: 3 balanced meals/day, fruit fruit fruit, solid sleep in a real bed (did I already say that?), warm showers, internet catch-up, quiet time and maybe even a run or two around the PC transit house, which is conveniently located in a sweet little neighborhood off the main roads. Thank goodness for Peace Corps. It is truly FAMILY, in all senses of the word.

Blantyre and Mt. Mulanje: We relished in some R&R with Nick and Lindsay, friends of friends living and working for an international school. They took us in and their brother James spoiled us with good cooking. I attended my first church service of the trip which was nice. We soon departed for a 2-day hike on their neighboring mountain, Mulanje, having been connected with a PCV there named Scott.
We traipsed around Mt. Mulanje (nearly 6,000 ft) with PCV Scott, our fearless fire ranger and guide. The "hut" (a loose term - very luxurious) he led us to, as well as the hike (Lichenya route), was fabulous. The fire we were forced to run through on the way down was not. :) It brought back bad memories of the fire at Crescent H Ranch when I lived out in Wyoming in 2001. Nature is awesome. We are not in control.

III. Mozambique
Tete via Blantyre: We scored a steamy lifti with a jovial Malawian truck driver on his 18 wheeler. At the border crossing, I spotted this mural depicting HIV/AIDS prevalence in Mozambique. Notice the hottest spots are near Beira due to heavy truck traffic. It's the same "transport corridor" phenomena that occurs along the Mbeya-Makambako-Mafinga road. Where truckers are passing, HIV spreads at devastating rates. The prevalence reaches as high as 26.5 here (compared to Tanzania's 8%)!
Mchoio: chill little town in NW, serving as a resting spot on our way to/from Pinha Longa. We stayed at La Fronteira, a magical haven nestled in a eucalyptus forest, surrounded by waterfalls. From the trail to La Fronteira, we met countless Zimbabweans traveling to/from their homes in search of supplies, sustenance (one 14-year old girl sat with my on the bus, tasked with buying 4 kg of rice; apparently, t's remarkably cheaper in Moz than in Zimbabwe, she said. She embarks on this shopping trip monthly for her family).

Zimbabwe - we all know - is a mess, but did you know that children aren't even attending school? Even schools have sadly come to a halt while people struggle to make ends meet. Now if that's not an indication of hitting rock bottom as a society, I don't know what is. We met a handful of Zimbabweans with impeccable English on the trail and on the roads in Mchoio. We were grateful for the enlightenment they provided us with on the reality of their situation back in "Zim."
Vilankulo: We stayed with two current PCV's in this sleepy beach town, interestingly full of NGO's. They both work for CARE International in OVC support (helping orphans and vulnerable kids) and IGA (income-generating activities). The following day, Jen and I decided to go on a boat ride to the archipelego under Rasta Eddy's wings. We assumed our boat adventure would be via dhow, but our dreams dissipated as we approached a tiny speed boat with a 15 horsepower engine (see far right). After a choppy hour of ups and downs, we reached Magaruque island and settled in to some sweet snorkeling and fresh fish lunch. It was worth it despite the inauspicious start.

Sundowners, provided by our new friends Jose and Ricky from Spain and Vancouver. They even played a little Celine Dion to create a "Titanic" moment. Estamos Juntos.

Eddy's mom and sister, preparing dinner: cocunut mixed with greens and cassava.

The next morning, after a nice jog along the beach, I went down to the girls' community well to collect water for bathing. Filling my bucket at the source brought frustration; as is the story of my Mozambique experience (aside from running into Zimbabweans who speak English), I was unable to communicate and failed to ask simple questions of my friend's neighbors, mamas, kids. Erg. Struggling up their hill in the sand, one mama offered to carry my bucket for me if I paid her 10 meticais (she wrote the number 10 in the sand to clarify), roughly 50 cents. I refused, obstinately. Sometimes it feels better to do things oneself...especially if it brings laughter.

Surfing at Tofo Beach. Who's sponsored by Quicksilver? We are.
Maya, Jit - our surfing coach - and Jen enjoying gentle Tofo beach, perfect for beginners. Jit is a current medical student in Leeds and kindly volunteered to teach us how to catch waves. After an hour of serious wipe-outs (as a concession, Maya did say my wipe-outs looked cool) and bruising, we finally stood up on our foam long boards. Briefly. Albeit brief, it felt great to learn a new sport in such an exotic location. Thank you Jit.

Being silly on our final lifti from Tofo Beach to Maputo, with a Mozambiquan and a Dutch guy, both gentlemen. We reached Christine's house at 9 pm.

We've greatly enjoyed the impressive capital of Mozambique. It feels expansive, much bigger than Dar. After using a laundy machine for the first time all trip (glorious), we ventured out to see what this city has to offer, especially in terms of art (visited the National Museum - contemporary), music and history. The fish market also provided fun. What a vibrant spot! We selected what fresh goodies we wanted - Calamari, Brownfish, Tiger prawns - and then had a restaurant grill them up with butter, lemon and cilantro. Mmmm. Being with a family has made the end of my trip all the more special.

I bus tonight to Jo'burg with Jit and friends, who serendipitously depart at the same time as my flight. It'll feel strange separating from the girls I've spent the last 6 weeks - not to mention the last 3 years in Peace Corps - with, sharing the rollercoaster that is life and travel together. Jen and Maya will continue their adventure (continue checking on their experiences via http://www.jenintanzania.blogspot.com) as a tops two-some to South Africa, Namibia and Angola. Naona wivu kidogo, but am ready to embrace friends and family at home. It has been too long! Atlanta, here I come.

My imminent return to the US of A from Johannesburg: October 19th:( Until then, I'll be savoring every last African sunset...

A fitting quote post-debate

2008-09-28T05:14:00.001-07:00

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."
-Mark Twain

Is Obama the only one concerned with American perception abroad? It sure seemed that way in yesterday's debates. I simply can't understand how American people could possibly feel comfortable voting two "mavericks" into power, one of whom having just (last year) acquired a passport to leave the USA!?! Considering the state of our world today, that is frightening, friends. That is truly "dangerous," McCain.

Tom Daschle, the former Democratic Senate leader and a senior aide to Obama, said, "With absolutely no experience, are we ready, if necessary, to place our future in her (Palin's) hands as commander in chief and our premier negotiator with other world leaders?"

I feel extremely blessed to have had a plethora of opportunities to travel, to learn and to work abroad. Not everyone is so lucky, but certainly the leaders of our nation should have extensive experience outside of our borders, to increase understanding, to decrease ethnocentrism, and our all-too-common assumption as Americans that we are the best and that we know all. Listening and exchanging goes a long way. Our country could do more of that. Obama, as President, will do just that. He is the change we need so desperately.

Please America. Say no to more of the same. Say no to insularity. Let's say yes to Obama!

"Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God"

Kili Climb is now behind us, but never forgotten

2008-09-01T09:37:00.000-07:00

"We shared what life was meant for and thus the depth of meaning for each of us: Consolation in the midst of hardship, Leadership by way of service to one another, Strength through group unity, Relationship in telling and building stories, Encouragement through humor, Discovery of gifts through the admittance of need. I could go on, but suffice to say a group of strangers became family."
-Steve Haas

TUPO PAMOJA: Paul, Logan, Shaban, Elizabeth, Jeannette, Stefanie (Supporter, but didn't climb with us), Erin, Anna and me (Not pictured but who climbed with us: Vayan)

Home visits to Neema and Anna's homes, with everyone sporting their new sunglasses. Thanks Williams family!

Destination: Rongai Route. 6 days on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Are you reeeaaaaaady?! Please note Simon, our guide, towering above. Enthusiasm is clearly NOT his weakness.

Life skills discussion around the dinner table. Many a story were shared here. Daily topics of discussion in order: Goal-setting, Confidence, Role Models, Peer Pressure, and Achievement. Everyone was a student. Who were the teachers? Depends on who you ask!

I know you Americans out there want to know - who made it to the top? :) We're so goal-oriented, aren't we? Erin, Warren (videographer), Elizabeth, Logan, Emmanuel, Vayan and I summitted Uhuru Peak at 19,340 ft (5895 m); Neema, Shaban and Anna made it to Gilman's Point, at the lip of the crater, a major feat and very close to full summit at 18,638 ft (5681 m). However, this experience was not about who made it and who didn't. It was about being together, sharing our stories, our ups and downs together over 6 days. As Simon says, making the peak is a plus, but that's not what it's all about. We all pushed ourselves individually, as far as we could go. And that's something to be proud of!

My head's still spinning from this adventure. To symbolize the movement and growth we've all experienced through this time together - Tanzanian and American alike - I'm keeping this photo sideways. So, let us look sideways. Let us challenge ourselves. Let us think outside the box. Let us step outside ourselves. Let us push ourselves to be better. Let us venture outside of our comfort zones, our comforts. There's more to this LIFE than ME. LIVE!

I'm now embarking on African travels with two fellow Peace Corps friends, Maya and Jen. We'll be sharing life on the road until late October when I'll return to Atlanta, GA.

After 3 amazing years serving in Tanzania, I am at long last homeward bound. Ahh but where is home? Home is where the heart is. My heart feels like it's in many places, but you know, that's not a bad thing.

Again, sincere thanks to everyone that made this climb possible! We couldn't have done it without you all's support - in all forms.

To Faith. Hope. And Love. Love being the greatest of them all,
Tait
*More pictures coming soon at: http://walkingthewalkonkili.blogspot.com

Kili climb countdown is on - leaving on August 17th!

2008-08-11T10:16:00.001-07:00

My students admire a map of Kilimanjaro and our route to reach Uhuru Peak - 19,340 ft. We had just completed our first 'practice hike' on Mt. Meru to grow accustomed to walking all day. Everyone's looking strong.

We'll soon be on our way and my American friends arrive soon. In the meantime, my students are breaking in their boots in preparation. They may be getting funny looks trekking to school in clunky boots, but no blisters will be had!

Tomorrow, we're meeting at my house to distribute warm clothing and to discuss first aid, elevation sickness and other matters pertinent to the climb.

Friday, my American friends (having just arrived - hopefully not too jet lagged) and I will be visiting my students' homes and school to grasp what a Tanzanian youth's everyday life is like.

Sunday is departure day!

Please see http://kicksforkili.blogspot.com for more pictures and updates...

Goodbyes. Kuagana. My least favorite activity.

2008-07-08T02:08:00.000-07:00

*Highlight of my goodbye party - announcing the 6 students who'll be accompanying me and my friends on our August Kili empowerment climb(http://kicksforkili.blogspot.com for more). These stars were selected by all staff based on their academic performance, strong character and giving attitude. Students sitting above: Neema, Shaban (reserve), Annastazia, Emmanuel and kneeling: Vayan and Paul. Not pictured: Veronica*

*Holding my gorgeous green cake with fellow staff members. Cake reads 'Goodbye Furaha. Welcome again to the Vijana Center'*

*Joking around with babu Kweka, mchumba wangu, Pendo and Babu Nyiti*

*Sam's goodbye party. Bado tupo pamoja lakini*

*Seriously, cake wars are not funny, Sam*

*Sarah's farewell with admiring porter training students*

*Sarah, Pearl and Nell's goodbye. Who's the rasta?*

3 amazing years have come and gone. Goodbyes have been said, so what's next? All I see for now is what's just in front of me: Kilimanjaro. August 17-23rd. That'll have to do for now...

*A beautiful print my talented friend Alston Wise created in honor of our Kili climb. If you'd like to order one (profits'll go directly to support our climb), or some of her other brilliant prints/cards, go to: www.bwisepapers.com or directly to Kili print: http://www.bwisepapers.com/node/61*

Uganda, Rwanda - the last hurrah of PC travels

2008-06-28T03:07:00.000-07:00

My last trip of PC included a hop skip and a jump to Uganda (read: 14 hour bus ride from Arusha to Mwanza, 9 hour overnight ferry across Lake Victoria and 6 hour bus ride from Bukoba into the lovely Ugandan capital city of Kampala), from where we eased south into Rwanda and then back again to Arusha. I traveled with my friend Alice, who’s been working for the last year with Mkombozi, local organziation assisting street kids, and teaching yoga on the side. Needless to say, she was an ideal travel partner and we were ecstatic to explore our East African neighbors pamoja.

Drawn to Rwanda, I was intrigued by the country’s history (genocide and colonization by the Belgians and French), its ensuing European flavor, and its location between Tanzania and the Congo. The intrigue has only been enhanced. I am taken by this little country of only 6 million people (Tanzania’s population is nearly 40 million to provide perspective).

*With Tony and Alice in Mwanza on rocks above Lake Victoria*

But let me start from the very beginning, a very good place to start. Uganda. Kampala really amazed me with its metropolitanism. Practically every corner boasted a bank. Men and women strolled the sidewalks (yes, I said sidewalks) in sharp business attire. I felt like I should be rushing off to a meeting, but instead, opted for a café au lait (which soon became a theme in this trip – I guess we’re coffee-repressed) and people watching. Watching people rush off to meetings is more fun anyway. It’s almost as fun as meeting friends from long ago, like Stanley Musoni, with whom I taught back in Kenya at Mt. Kenya Academy in 2003. It was great being with this wise man and Ugandan native again. When we were neighbors in Kenya, I called him my African father. Nothing seems to have changed.

Alice and I then ventured out of the big city of K’town to Jinja to experience the great Nile and the great outdoors. We spent a whole day merely biking around Jinja, a very laid-back town, reminiscent of Njombe in the TZ Southern Highlands. Fueled by freshly ground peanut butter we’d bought at the central market, we finished our adventure by biking into the campsite where we had booked our own cabin overlooking the Nile.

*Couldn't resist a little 'Tupo Pamoja-ing' along our bike ride in Jinja, though Swahili was not spoken much here*

We splurged on a nice fish dinner that evening in celebration of my 29th birthday. 29. Wow, that sounds old huh? I took it in stride and we toasted to another year of wonder. It only gets better from here right, my dear elders? My 30th will have to top the Nile – and that’ll be a challenge.

The following day, on my actual birthday, I ventured solo to Sipi Falls, a series of magnificent waterfalls about 3 hours Northeast of Jinja, near the town of Mbale. I love how being solo attracts interaction with local people. Being alone, we emit vulnerability, a greater openness to conversation, exchange of ideas, or even the sharing of corn, as it was on my bus ride there. The mother sitting next to me bought a grilled corn out the window and split it into 3 parts – 1 for her child, 1 for me, a stranger, and took the last, for herself. She then softly whispered, “eat.” It embodied the beauty, the goodness of Africa and its people.

My day only got sweeter. I received phone calls from a returned Peace Corps friend (Thanks Stevu!), my brother and mom (And thanks to all my friends for the fun text messages that day). I then sat with an older gentleman on the next mode of transport, a smaller van heading up into the mountains of Sipi, who spoke fluent Swahili (ahhh relief). He had been taught by a Peace Corps volunteer many moons ago and cherished his time with his teacher, David. “Do you know David from Montana,” he asked. I chuckled, as I embraced the déjà vu (you can imagine – this is quite commonplace for American travelers in African countries). “No, I don’t, but I’m sure he was great,” I responded. He proceeded to tell me David stories for the next hour, which could have been unnerving, but instead, I found them and him adorable. I can only hope my Tanzanian friends’ll remember me as fondly.

I felt loved arriving to Sipi Falls, to the Crow’s Nest, a hostel instituted by PCVs. Happy to be alive, I ran above the cabin where I was staying on the cliffs to marvel at the 360 degree view. The distant sounds of water crashing, the smells of embers crackling below fueling what was soon to be my bathing water, my cozy bunk bed waiting below – all reminded me of Merrie-Woode, where I spent my summers growing up. It was the perfect place to spend a birthday.

From Sipi, Alice and I reunited and moved on quickly through Kampala and managed to score seats (the last – and the last row) that night on the 1 am bus into Kigali. Rwanda here we come! And arrive we did, the following morning, groggy, sleepy-eyed and worn from the overnight ride, we were awakened by the newness of Rwanda’s capital city, nestled in the hills. From the rolling, fecund hills to the boulangeries and signs posted en français to the warm people to the crisp, cool mountain air, I was instantly taken by the place and hungry to know more from locals’ perspectives.

We were embraced by my PC Health Supervisor’s sister (“Nilimbeba mgongoni kabisaaa,” said Mama Virginia), Adelaide. She treated us like family; we so appreciated her generosity and guidance. We even shared a typicial lunch with her, consisting of cassava leaves – like Tanzanian kisomvi - rice, potatoes, peas and chicken in tomato sauce, at her home after visiting Gisozi, the main genocide memorial.

When I walked into the memorial, braced to be overwhelmed, I first noticed this quote, which summarizes it all well:

“This is about our past and our future;
Our nightmares and dreams;
Our fear and our hope:
Which is why we begin where we end…with the country we love.”

While the memorial (and similarly, most history books) claimed Hutus and Tutsis had lived in peace (even some claim they had history of intermarriage) prior to colonization and the enforcement by the Belgians’ of socioeconomic classifications via cards (classification depended on # cows owned, etc.), I heard differently later at L’Esperance, from our friend, Victor.

Anyway, most stories go like this: all was relatively 'well' in Rwanda until the colonizers (Germans 1895-1916; Belgians from 1923 until independence was finally won in 1962) arrived and forced division between the 2 tribal groups; colonial rule made Hutu and Tutsi distinctions racial, especially with the introduction of the racial identity card in 1932 (note: Tutsis were originally known as elite, especially after 1860, when Rwabugiri, a Tutsi, ascended the Rwanda thrown and expanded and consolidated his dominion close in size to current Republic). In creating these distinctions, the colonial power idenitified anyone with 10 cows or more as a Tutsi and with less, as a Hutu (and this applied to descendents); the country was 15% Tutsi, 84% Hutu and 1% Twa. Moreover, the Catholic influnce exacerbated the racism by emphasizing Hamitic idealogy ("Am I my brother's keeper?", asked Cain as he literally got away with murder; also touches on the blood-revenge model of justice), in order to convey Tutsis as superior. Scientists were actually dispatched to Rwanda to measure protuberance of noses and to analize cranial capacities; "sure enough, scientists had found what they believed all along - tutsis had 'nobler', more naturally 'aristoticratic' demensions than the 'bestial' Hutus" (Gourevitch). The consecration of Rwanda to Christ in 1946 enabled Belgian authorities to reshape society to European and church values and to continue to increase Tutsi elitism. In 1959, Hutus switched to majority and received preferential treatment from the Belgians in control. This was a repressive state, during which ethnic cleansings of Tutsis commenced. In 1973, Major Habyarimana led a coup d’etat, ensued by the establishment of the Interhamwe, the Hutu youth militia group; their mission: spreading (err forcing) Hutu power and Hutu-ness at the expense of Tutsi lives. The fire was just beginning.

"Whatever Hutu and Tutsi identity may have stood for in the precolonial state no longer mattered; the Belgians had made 'ethnicity' the defining feature of Rwanda existence...with every schoolchild reared in the doctrine of racial superiority and inferiority, the idea of a collective national identity as steadily laid to waste, and on either side of the Hutu-Tutsi divide there developed mutually exclusionary discourses based on the competing claims of entitlement and injury." (Gourevitch)

Philip Gourevitch's book, entitled "We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with out families" provided great enlightenment on the genocide's unraveling. The title is just a snippet of an actual letter written to a priest by Tutsis in his (the priest's) own congregation prior to their imminent murder.

Our dear leader, Pastor Elizaphan Ntakirutimana,
How are you! We wish to be strong in all these problems we are facing. We wish to inform you that we have heard tomorrow we will be killed with our families. We therefore request you to intervene on our behalf and talk with the Mayor. We believe that, with the help of God who entrusted you the leadership of this flock, which is going to be destroyed, your intervention will be highly appreciated, the same way as the Jews were saved by Esther.
We give honor to you.

There was no intervention.

And as you can glean from the title, this book is heavy. What's even heavier is that I saw this church (look below on the hill top)

I was completely unaware that it was the church where this letter was written until after I'd been admiring the church on the hill for three days. "Oh what a perfectly perched church that is over there," I said over breakfast our first morning at L'Esperance. "So beautiful," I thought, the next day. And therein lies the dichotomy of Rwanda - I continued to perceive beauty and terror simultaneously. The scenery surrounding Kibuye, a quaint town on Lake Kivu, was first breathtaking; and then I learned 11,600 people had been hacked to death in their town's main church. The Sans-Famille church we stayed in (now offering beds in the back like a hostel) had been a haven for refugees during the genocide; I then learned the Father there is known to have openly collaborated with militia groups and facilitated many mass killings. I enjoyed driving through the tree-lined streets of central Kigali with Adelaide; and later, I saw the same streets in "Sometime in April," a powerful documentary on the Genocide...blood-stained. How could this be? How could there be such good and such evil in one place?, I asked myself.

And then I realized, isn't that the story for all of us - as human beings, as citizens in our respective countries?

*Church in Kibuye where 11,600 Tutsis were murdered. See skulls in window*

*Again, the irony - gorgeous Lake Kivu sits calmly behind the same church's graves*

I couldn't help but be submerged by a sense of helplessness and hopelessness, especially when hearing figures like: over 1 million people died during the genocide, over 300,000 orphans resulted (including 85,000 child-headed households), as well as thousands of widows. "Many survivors are young and will carry the trauma of their childhood through the rest of their lives - and probably the lives of their descendants," one plaque read. The most emotional for me was the top floor, which displayed pictures of and described young children whose lives were taken during the genocide:

Name: Fillette Uwase
Age: 2
Favorite toy: Doll
Favorite food: Rice and chips
Favorite friend: Her dad
Behavior: A good girl
Cause of death: Smashed against a wall

Name: Thierry Ishimiwe
Age: 9 months
Favorite drink: Mother's milk
Behavior: Cried a lot
Characteristics: Small and weak
Cause of death: Machete in his mother's arms

Thanks to Alice, we became connected with UBUNTU, a center dedicated to widow empowerment and community engagement post-genocide. While visiting their center, Pierre brought me hope. Who is Pierre? Pierre is a blind masseuse, a full-time staff member at UBUNTU, committed to healing widows of the genocide with his hands. Those women who may be struggling from resulting physical disabilites, or just needing human touch are welcome to make an appointment with this angel.

*Pierre receiving a massage for a change*

A part of Rwanda died, but it's coming back to LIFE with people like Pierre.

"Qui sauve une suele vie sauve le monde entier."

*With Victor, the inspired Director of L'esperance (meaning Hope en francais),an orphan center above Kibuye and Lake Kivu*

*Giving butterfly kisses at L'esperance*

Ahhh the fruits - of permaculture and relationships

2008-05-10T06:46:00.000-07:00

Karibuni the progression of our Permaculture garden (refer to "Power of Permaculture" posting last month). It's amazing what a little rain and sun will do. Magic always happens under Mt. Meru...

Our corn is now chest-high. Note: we triple-dug the bed of corn on the far left and double-dug the row of corn on the right. You'll recognize the difference in allowing for roots to shoot farther down into the soil. Results: a healthier, taller plant.

Grow corn grow

Just a few weeks later (from opposite angle: triple-dug bed on right, double-dug bed on left)

Beans and greens

My most dedicated crew of kids wa bustanini still expanding the garden's rows based on the model Peter and gang established. Haba na haba hujaza kibaba.

In other news, a fully sponsored secretary student at the Vijana Center (recently renamed from Tumaini) who I'll refer to as Malaika for her privacy, confided in me several months ago about her mom being infected with AIDS. A single orphan (meaning she's lost one parent, her father), she shared this intimate information with me as we were unloading bikes from our latest container.

You would have laughed at the scene - imagine all of our 70 students and staff perspiring, lugging a hodge podge of bike parts and boxes of donated books on our heads or in our arms until we could find a solid resting place, all the while singing and laughing. In the midst of the chaos, I asked the afore-mentioned Malaika where she lived and how she traveled to/from school everyday. A simple question.

She responded that she walked one hour and half each way to school and home. She elaborated on how she lacked the fare for public transport or for lunch. Her mom couldn't provide that for her. "What does your mom do?," I inquired innocently. "My mom doesn't work," she said. "She's sick."

"Pole sana," I replied, a much more emphatic way in Swahili of saying I'm sorry. I looked her deeply in the eyes and could sense her hurt, her almost busting at the seams to divulge more. She glanced away, then down, to the side. After what seemed an eternity, her head slowly ascended again, and her lips parted, "Mama yangu anaishi na ugonjwa." Translated, what she said meant "my mom's living with the disease." This is how most Tanzanians refer to AIDS - "the disease." I knew what she was talking about all too well.

This disease is the same one that took my Uncle Scott's life. It's the same disease that kept my grandparents' and relatives' lips sealed out of shame and embarrassment. A disease that kills, the saying goes here. The disease that has no cure. The disease that keeps so many silent, when what we need the most is to talk about it, to be vulnerable with others. In being vulnerable, we can share one another's burden and pain so that comfort, peace and healing may come.

Of course, being open about such a taboo subject is easier said than done, especially in a culture where communication is a struggle, to say the least. In Tanzania, communication is referred to as "indirect." Direct communication or confrontation is all too rare; hence, the dire need for life skills - for improved communication, negotiation and decision-making skills.

This explains why I was so utterly amazed with Malaika's boldness in sharing with me. And there is no greater honor as a teacher, as a volunteer working to empower Tanzanian youth, than having one confide in you. This - to listen to and to be there for the Malaikas - is why I'm here. This is what I live for. Full stop.

She seemed a bit surprised herself when it came out of her mouth. "I can't believe I said that," she admitted a few minutes later. "I've never told anyone this," she continued. "I'm so glad you did," I affirmed in an effort to placate her. Ndiyo kazi yangu - that's my job.

Slowly, bit by bit, dakika by dakika, the door opened more and more; she continued to allow me in farther. Gently, I probed with questions like "So, how does your mom feel?"..."What are your mom's symptoms now?"..."Is there anyone else in your family who can help?"..."Can I come visit sometime soon?"

So, I did just that - I visited Malaika and her mom soon thereafter and found her description quite accurate: her mom was fatigued and burdened by a pretty painful eye infection and cyst festering above her pupil. Upon further investigation, I learned she was hardly sleeping due to the pain and inability to close her eye. I assume the infection and cyst are side effects of her weakening immune system, typical of AIDS victims. She had sought help over a year prior at KCMC (Any "3 Cups of Tea" readers out there? The author Greg Mortenson's father established this hospital in Moshi), which provided her with eye glasses to strengthen her eye muscles and a bottle of eye solution to lessen the infection's spread. I'm no doctor, though at times like these, I sure wish I was. More than anything.

Although I may not have an M.D., I did have the disposable income to travel to Moshi to procure more of this special eye solution and to have her glasses fixed, both of which have brought her great relief. I was relieved too, until I learned upon more inquiry that Mama Malaika had stopped taking her ARV's (Anti-retroviral medication which strenthens the immune system and lengthens life for AIDS patients) due to her lack of food. Sadly, because she lacked sufficient food for her and her daughter (mothers are all too selfless) to consume, she refused to continue the drugs, which required a proper, mixed diet.

Karibu yet another revelation of my ignorance! I never gave this obstacle much thought, but have been enlightened since on how common this predicament is among those infected. No food means no drugs. And life ends a lot sooner than it needs to.

So, now what? I'm committed to being there for Malaika and her mom, as much as I can until my time at Vijana ceases (and maybe beyond?). I can invite Malaika over to wash my clothes or clean my house to earn extra money to buy small household items. I can connect them with local (as in not a Moshi-based hospital like KCMC, which she can't afford to visit regularly) Home-Based Care (HBC), which includes not only counseling, free drugs (ARV's), references to optional support groups, but also nutritional supplements for cases just like this one - where food and money is scarce. I can teach Malaika and other kids her age about HIV/AIDS so that infection rates decrease, so that stigma is reduced and so that more open dialogue ensues about "the disease" among the next generation. I can believe in Malaika, encouraging her as her Life Skills teacher to continue striving for her goal to become a secretary. Achieving such will help her provide for her mom, her greatest desire.

Malaika's strong. And I'm touched by her resiliency. But I can't help but wonder how she'll cope when she has no one, not even her mother around. I will never stop asking myself what more I can do. In this field, it's difficult to feel like your job is ever done, or that you're doing it to the fullest.

I guess all we can do is our best, as my Mom always told me. Thanks Mom. And Happy Mother's Day. This one's for you.

Jamila gives a thumbs up. "I know we can...be what we want to be...if we work hard at it..we'll be where and what we want to be"
And speaking of motherhood...

From The Alchemist...

2008-04-10T08:47:00.000-07:00

The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, a Brazilian author, has changed lives and inspired many. In fact, most of my friends say it was this very book that inspired them to do the Peace Corps, to "give up two years of our lives." Ha.

So, for those of you out there unsure of what's next, at a crossroads of sorts (like me, myself and I) or heck, even if you are sure, let these words refresh and encourage you to keep following your dream, your calling, your PERSONAL LEGEND.
Here's an abridged version of this brilliant book's treasures:

What is a personal calling?

It is God's blessing; it is the path God chose for you here on Earth. Whenever we do something that fills us with enthusiasm, we are following our legend. However, we don't all have the courage to confront our own dream. Why?

There are four obstacles:

1. We are told from childhood onward that everything we want to do is impossible...our personal calling is so deeply buried in our soul as to be invisible. But it's still there. Bado.

2. Love. We know what we want to do, but are afraid of hurting those around us by abandoning everything to pursue our dream. We don't realize that love is just a further impetus, not something to prevent us going forward. We don't realize that those who genuinely wish us well want us to be happy and are prepared to accompany us on that journey.

3. Fear of the defeats we'll meet on the path...we warriors of light must be prepared to have patience in difficult times and to know that the Universe is conspiring in our favor, even though we may not understand how.

4. Fear of losing the dream for which we fought all our lives. The mere possibility of getting what we want fills the soul of the ordinary person with guilt. We forget about all the obstacles we overcame, all the suffering we endured, all the things we had to give up in order to get this far. This is the most dangerous of obstacles because it has a kind of saintly aura about it: renouncing joy and conquest. But if you believe yourself worthy of the thing you fought so hard to get, then you become an instrument of God, you help the Soul of the World and you understand why you are here.

I had a friend who claimed her greatest fear in life is to miss her Personal Legend. For real. Let us not lose hope, our grip on our dreams.

"A poor man is not one without a cent, but one without a dream."

Click on my first link (above on top right of this page) for the dream which I hope to make a reality this August 2008 with friends, Tanzanian and American...

The Power of Permaculture

2008-04-03T03:44:00.000-07:00

Last week at school, we hosted a much-anticipated seminar on Permaculture. Now, many of you may be wondering, what the heck is that?

Permaculture nutrition is a way of living that's designed to improve human health, the health of our communities, and the health of the environments in which we live. It uses the principles of a sustainable agricultural approach known as Permaculture, and combines it with an understanding of human nutrition. With a firm understanding of both concepts, we can start to meet our needs in a manner that actually strengthens our surroundings, rather than depleting them.

The four basic Permaculture principles are as follows:
*Working with nature rather than against it
*Thoughtful observation rather than thoughtless labor
*Each element should perform many functions rather than one
*Everything is connected to everything else

Teaching Permaculture is a PEPFAR dream because it combines so many of its objectives, namely spreading nutrition education along with care for orphans and vulnerable children and people living with HIV/AIDS (PLWHA).

Let me introduce you to the Permaculture God, if you will, of Peace Corps Tanzania. Enter Peter Jensen (pictured on the left with translator Sommi of Tengeru Agricultural College on his right)

So, why did this guru come to implement this seminar with me and my students at GAVC? First, to educate young Tanzanians (my students) about the many benefits of sustainable agriculture and how to do it. Second, to leave a demo garden, which we created together by hand with jembes, rakes and ratos. In effect, together, we created a balanced, swaled and guilded garden to nourish and educate students, and the community at large, for years to come. That's at least the hope! Now, we await the rains (which by the way, are out of control at the moment) and the sun to do the real work.

Veni. Vidi. Vici. The result: glorious.

Our school garden now boasts corn, soya beans, aloe vera, matembele (potato leaves - full of iron), papaya seedlings, lettuce, swiss chard and chinesi (a local green). More soon on how we reached this point. In short, blood, sweat and tears. Hardly. But sweat and blood, yes! (We had an unfortunate boy sliced on the forehead by a swinging jembe, accidentally of course. Nothing a band-aid couldn't remedy, thankfully)

Destination: Maasaiini

2008-03-11T05:11:00.000-07:00

Playing in waterfalls, the source of Lake Natron (as pictured above with Saitoti). Gracious people. Erupting volcano (Oldonya Longai, Kimaasai for the "Mountain of God"). Goat meat. More goat meat. Lack of water. Scorching sun. Flamingos. Cows. Cow dung. Jumping. Dust. Flies. Singing. Stars.

These are the words that come to mind from my latest journey to the Maasai land to visit my students, two Maasai young men named Saitoti and Julius. We took a school trip to visit their families, their worlds. Experiencing where they come from was so eye opening to me, their teacher. Not that I even began to scratch the surface in my short visit, but I feel like I at least have a better sense of their heritage, what they're proud of and why. I get it much more. And I agree they have a lot to be proud of...

Don't we all wish we were Maasai...at least kidogo?

Like us, most Westerners revere the Maasai. We have a tendency to romanticize the Maasai and their stubborn ways, their reluctance to shed the skin of their rich culture and tradition. We admire it. Right on, fight the power, eh?! We are in awe of a group that actually remain stalwart, standing resolute in a rushing river - not blown over by modern ways - blue jeans, slang, ipods, mixed diets, "American idol"...

But upon living and breathing the boma life, my perspective has altered. I've realized how rough and tough their lifestyle truly is. Now clearly, I can't speak on behalf of all Maasai people, but I observed some serious health conditions, conditions which can be avoided by simple procedures - like washing hands...with soap if possible and by using a pit latrine for human waste, kujisaidia as we say (to help ourselves). I witnessed eye infections so nasty, one girl accompanying us, who serves as a nurse stateside, claimed that the eye would literally be lost if not attended to (the boy was already blind)...and sadly, I doubt it will be attended to, despite our dropping them off at the closest town's clinic doorstep on our way back to Arusha. As the saying goes, you can take a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. In development, you have to be met halfway, or at the least, part-way.

It was fascinating how drastically different this tribe is from the Wabena, who live down in the SW of Tanzania, where I spent my first two years. While the Wabena thrive on being farmers (in fact, you rarely see them without a jembe, or hoe, in hand), the Maasai never farm - not one vegetable or fruit. Period. Think about that. Let that sink in. We may all know that the Maasai are pastoral people, but can you fathom NEVER ever eating vegetables or fruit of any kind? Ever. And yet, they continue to survive on meat and milk alone. Kudos to them for their resiliency. I know I couldn't do it, but hey - different strokes for different folks. It's yet another reminder of how beautifully diverse this world is. It would be a drab place if we were all the same.

I must say though - rice and beans and fruit never tasted so good my first day back home! No more goat for me. I've had enough for now...

Open this Snapfish link for more shots from this adventure, from recent seminars and events at Global Alliance (namely Memory Books), from baking bread with mpishi Eliza and the boys at Mkombozi, na kadhalika:

http://www1.snapfish.com/share/p=94111205240601973/l=354004691/g=13602658/cobrandOid=1000001/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

Tunakumiss Saraben!

2008-03-04T05:43:00.000-08:00

"Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. So love the people who treat you right and forget about the people who don't. Believe that everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. No one said it would be easy. Just that it would be worth it."

Hamisa

2008-03-04T04:45:00.000-08:00

*Hamisa, a young star who participated in the two latest empowerment seminars offered at our center, was awarded top female participant due to her positive attitude, poignant comments and leadership*

The center which is caring for her currently, Mkombozi, highlighted her in their recent newsletter at the following link in the article titled "A place to call 'home' in Arusha...":

http://www.mkombozi.org/publications/news_story/2008_03_03_news_story_arushagirls_hamisa.pdf

As the article explains, each of Mkombozi's youth have a story to tell and dreams to realize. I thought I'd share that of Hamisa's, which she wrote herself:
----------------------------------------------------------------------
My name is Hamisa Malima. I was born in the Kilimanjaro District. My mother died when I was six months old. My aunt took me to live with her, we were depending on my father and had many problems. My father was bringing us money for our basic needs. When I reached the age of four, my aunt got into trouble and was in the police station for two weeks. At the police station, my aunt had bad stomach pains because she had a wound in her stomach. My father came and got my aunt out of the police station. He helped her to get treatment and finally she got well and left the hospital. My aunt tried hard - every day she went to the market to get us food so that we could survive.
Eventually in 1998, I started my first year of school. I studied until Class 3, when my father told me I should move in with my stepmother. He told me my aunt was having an operation for the second time and there was no other relative that could take me so I could study in the same school. So I transferred to Burka Primary School. Life was not too bad because I was going to school, except my stepmother was not agreeing with me, I don't know why.
I remember in sixth grade, I was coming from school and I met with my father, and he told me that he was ill. I told him not to worry, that God will help him and that he will get better. After two months, my father was still sick, but he wanted to go back to work. One day he was brought from work, dead.
I cried a lot because my father was the one I was depending on for my whole life. When he died, I lost a lot of my plans because there was no other relative who could take care of me and put me through school.
After looking for a place to live, I moved to Musoma (on Lake Victoria) to live with my aunts. When I was living with my aunts, after school I had to sell oranges by the side of the road or at the stand. I went on living like this. When I finished standard seven, I found out I had passed and got accepted to go to a Secondary School in Tarime. But when I was waiting to go to Secondary School, I found out that my name had been stolen and sold. I went to the police to complain about the issue, but they did not take any action. I asked my aunts for fare to go and see my guardians, and they said they had no money.
So I ran away from Musoma because my relatives were showing that they did not want me to return to Arusha but to keep living in Musoma with nothing to do, and my plan was to become a manager for a tourist hotel. I came to Arusha and asked my Mama (guardian) to help me study, she had no money.
I read in the paper about centers who help orphans in Dar es Salaam, but I had no money for the bus fare. Then, one sister brought me to Mkombozi and I asked for help. They listened to my story about my life and now they have taken me in. Now I'm in Mkombozi, and the way I see it, I am reaching my goals.
---------------------------------------------------------
On the second day of our last seminar on Memory Books (Feb 27-29th), we challenged our young participants to review their short and long-term goals and insert them in their own book. Hamisa stood up proudly to share that she had reached her short-term goal of studying Hotel Management and that she was still striving to become a Hotel Manager. She is indeed on the way. Yuko safarini tu. Girls like Hamisa, who have overcome inconceivable obstacles, inspire the rest of us to keep going, reaching...

She wasn't the only one to recount this name-stealing phenomenon. Apparently, it was a common occurence in the last decade and still continues in some places in TZ to date. Can you imagine how hopeless, deflated you would feel if your right to education was taken from you, simply stolen overnight?

Several of my friends and family back home ask why I continue to stay in Tanzania.

Neema's why. Saitoti's why. Hamisa's why.

Responses to Reflections...

2008-02-12T05:54:00.000-08:00

I've been graced by some pretty amazing responses to my last posting. Thought I'd share these thoughts, touching on development, personal growth and social awareness...Thanks friends:

From my sister Alison:
"I so agree. The bribery/corruption that is so pervasive does create a desperate sense that, once within that downward cycle, it is a Kili-sized struggle to being to go up again. I believe that our economies are as fragile as our psychologies - they both need faith/optimism to keep them going. I absolutely agree with you that we must take care of ourselves in order to take care of others. And every time we smile at one another, we are encouraged that hope is alive, and as long as it is, change can be made.
It is frustrating that after all this time, no action has been taken in Kenya to resolve the political tensions that are only manifesting themselves on the streets and in the economy, rather than in a proper courtroom in line with Kenyan law.
At the same time, I was told that Kikwete just booted a large portion of his Ministry that was supposedly corrupt. Considering what we read in the papers frequently, I am sure they were, and when an African president takes a real stand against corruption, we have a real reason for hope. Continued stands, continued stands. Damn, a body/mind has got to be in shape to do that!!
The loss of hope, despair, darkness, and everything that creeps into our hearts when we begin to see the obstacles that surround us is the enemy.
If it is an everyday battle for myself, someone surrounded by opportunity and support, surely it is an everyday battle for the world. When I would try to put myself in the position of the corrupted and disillusioned that I encountered everyday in Tanzania, I usually concluded that I in their position would be the same or worse. I was often told by Tanzanian aid workers who visited me in Matombo, a village of high population and dismal services, that the people were embittered and how could I possibly continue to do so much work there, where I wasn't appreciated, and where everyone was just out for their posho (portion). Thinking it could just as be me made me scoff at this observation, thank them and say, 'How could I not?'
At the same time as the poverty culture of 'take what you can when you can' pervades in TZ, including the taking of money, bike parts, and even lovers, it certainly doesn't hold true for all. Not there, not anywhere.
For a long time, I saw the same sense of 'take what you can when you can' as a main characteristic of American culture. Of course it is one of the intricacies of human nature.
Marked by the European invasion of Africa, colonial times, and current neo-colonialism, esp. on behalf of the US. Is it fair that we all have cell phones, and that this technology that has changed our world and become so quickly taken for granted could not be operated without Congolese coltan*? If the Congo were getting any money for it, it might be fair. Raising everyone up benefits us more than tearing them down. But these are rules that need to be taught over and over again on the playground, throughout the world. Love them and have empathy for them, but do not tolerate that behavior. I wish you all the best in continued fun, meaningful connections with many people, and many more smiles.."

*For more on coltan, also known as colombo-tantalite ore: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/1468772.stm. Regional analysts say the international demand for coltan - crucial for cell phone production - is one of the driving forces behind the war in the DRC, and the presence of rival militias in the country.

From a Tanzanian blogger named Abraham, currently living in NYC:
"I went to school in Bongo (TZ) till my high school, I don't recognize that cheating or stealing was allowed or ever pervasive as you have mentioned. It is sad, but the fact is that fabric of my society is coming apart at the seams, as it never used to be that way. Yes, partly is due to acceleration in poverty, and a lot of aids victims, families can't afford to raise their extended family, but in the past the entire country most resembled the values of togetherness you saw in Manga.
I came to US for education without my parents' or government support, as none was in position to help. But teachers and my parents' guidance made all the difference in the world. Walimu walikuwa wakali sana enzi hizo, that was in the ninety's. Bongo is now just being swamped by capitalist ideals, everyone for him/herself, that trend is evidently in the cities. Our politicians have abandoned the ideals of Nyerere CCM, embracing the foreign investment mostly for their own benefit and not for the people. No excuses though, you have to forbid that behaviour in part of your students, at least they have to understand where you stand on that issue, 'Mwalimu Tait mkali huyo' lol, and please talk to head teacher about your concerns. You certainly are making a difference some days are tough, but don't throw your hands in the air and give up, continue making a difference even if it is just that one kid."

From my bud Chris:
"...in Hermann Hesse's "Siddhartha", Siddhartha says that when setting out to achieve a goal, his path is like a stone in the river. He seeks the goal as the stone seeks the bottom of a river, his straightest path possible. Thing is, the waters can be treacherous and they may carry and toss you a bit before you hit that spot. But there is no doubt, once the calm waters appear, you will have found your place. So find your bliss and like you said, do what you gotta do to feel fulfilled and happy. This doesn't mean an automatic divergence from everyone on a selfish path; it means that paths will converge and people will go together when they follow their bliss. Maybe I got too much Joseph Campbell in me, but I think that can apply at any point in anyone's life."

And Lisa:
"On topic of people not being held accountable for their behavior (stealing, dishonesty) Kofi Annan recently said in Kenya that it's just not ok that things like this happen every few years (though not on this scale before) and no one is ever prosecuted or brought into account...yes, I lift my eyes to the mountains with you."

And from lovely RPCV Kate Raum, the one and only:
"I've just read your blogs (mine and friend Jen's which is amazing - you should check out - titled "i just wanted to know": http://jenintanzania.blogspot.com). You both are such eloquent, honest writers. You capture the spirit of Tanzania and the emotional tug-of-war of Peace Corps volunteer life perfectly. I love that you are taking your third years and successfully expanding on what you learned in the first two. I am proud and envious. I'm in awe that I was ever in the same place, experiencing the same things. I miss Tanzania so much right now it hurts.

Being home hasn't been easy, but I can tell you if you ever decide to come back, this is how I view my service now that I'm here: I am intensely proud to be a Peace Corps volunteer. Reading your blogs and recently rereading my own letters home makes me stand a little taller and realize that what we did and what you're doing really IS amazing, really IS noble. I remember all those feelings: why am I here, is it worth it. The answer is absolutely without a doubt YES. If for nothing else, for ourselves. Yes, I desperately miss Mama Sauli, baby Kate is growing up without me there to watch, and it's incredibly difficult to be living a life where my Peace Corps friends aren't readily available. But I am so grateful to have those experiences at all. I have the memories, I have a part of me that's sacred, and I know that, while I wasn't saving street kids' lives and teaching them valuable technical skills:), I have experienced life and the power of the human spirit. So Tait, if you can't take anything else from your endeavors at the moment, at least you have that. It is so important."

Here's to that one kid, Abraham, and to experiencing the beauty of the human spirit, Kate. So true! Thanks for you all's encouragement. Tupes.

Reflections

2008-02-02T04:00:00.000-08:00

*My kids getting ready for the Kili 5K on March 2! We're stretching here, about to go out for our weekly Wednesday jog. Run Leyeyo run...*

I’m officially entering my 6th month in the big city of A’town and while missing Manga, my old village, doesn’t sting as much, I still miss that life dearly.

I recently received the following phone message from my friend, Kate, who replaced me at my site, which sums up my longing perfectly, succinctly:

“I just bucket-showered with fresh rainwater by a crank lantern overlooking the sky spackled with moonlight. I ate an entirely homemade dinner with a fresh, salted avocado for dessert to frogs and crickets serenading. I’m now reading a book by candlelight with Nyota (my old dog I so graciously passed down to her – okay, she may say otherwise; Nyota’s a bit on the hyper side...until 8 pm and then, she’s absolutely lovely) cuddling at the bed’s end...how will I ever live in America again?”

Precisely. And sometimes I ask myself, how can I be living in Arusha? No, I enjoy Arusha, but jamani, do I miss that life, that beautiful life!

Some differences I’ve noted so far between Northern and Southern TZ:
• Tanzanians own cars up here! And they have business cards
• Chai or a cup of tea costs 500 TSH (50 cents), which is more than double the price down south. Most fruits and vegetables are double or triple the cost from Makambako's soko
• No stars are visible :( I miss village stars
• Street slang is a whole new language I gotta learn (“Voda fasta!” “Longer longa”!)
• I am late here (my village meetings started roughly 2 hours later than announced; so where as I was accustomed to a 2 hour late factor; it’s now 15 minutes tops! I was left last week by my boss for being 3 minutes late. No joke)
• My neighbors are almost all United Nations staff from countries like the Congo, Kenya, Burkina Faso, etc. and are not so down for cooking ugali in their kitchens with me :)
• There’s no more need to start boiling bath water 2 hours in advance – now a hot shower is a flip of a switch! Hot water heaters are a beautiful thing
• Locals eat meat daily here whereas in Manga meat-eating was a treat reserved for special holidays like Christmas and weddings. Full stop.

To clarify, this Northern region (Arusha and Kilimanjaro) is where the top 2% of Tanzanians reside, from a financial and education standpoint. Some days I feel like I’m in a different country.

*Falls just outside of Moshi in Uru village - a great day trip*

On the upside, Arusha offers many advantages such as: a varied social life (Kumbe! What’s that? say all the PCV’s in the house :) my ‘old social life’ - if you can call it that - consisted of a monthly rendezvous at the Chani hotel in my banking town and bike ride overnights at Amanda’s, my closest neighbor’s, site – not complaining here as those were good times; just please note the word “varied”), amazing weekend options in gorgeous natural surroundings like hiking Mt. Longido, Mt. Meru, visiting natural springs and even wine tastings, like last week at a local lodge set along a river, and being intellectually challenged at work and in general, surrounded by a more educated group of Tanzanians. The latter may be what I most appreciate. It's certainly a nice step for my career if I am serious about pursuing International Development, in addition to crucial for my thesis research (the electricity and ubiquitous access to the internet helps, too).

*On the top of Mt. Longido near the Kenyan border with Samantha, good friend and co-worker*

My new life in the big city – and more specifically in my new house (with running hot water and electricity) - also translates into having more guests (mostly Peace Corps), which is of course enjoyable, but means a heck of a lot less reading and writing time by candlelight, which I cherished in Manga. So to those of you noticing a slump in the writing department, that’s why. Pole. And if I’m not hanging out with my guests, I may be eating out with friends or people I work with – again, this is new for me. Most of my nights are now filled. Ahh, urban life vs. village life – what a difference! I’m experiencing a new side of Tanzania and despite my whining, I am grateful for all that it’s teaching me.

*On the hike to the falls - with new friends Pearl and Adam*

On a more personal level, I’ve definitely been tried of late by an overarching lack of integrity at my school and around town. It’s something I’ve noticed since the early days in TZ, but that I was able to deal with because it was on a smaller, less noticeable level in the village (aside from the rapings/forced sex of girls by male teachers and older men). Honesty and ‘being true’ is something I’ve realized I value to the extent that it pains me when others don’t – to the point that I take it personally. For instance, I have a hard time forgiving the kids I’m giving my ALL to every day when they steal bike parts, food or what have you from school. Essentially, they are robbing themselves. They are stealing the items which would have gone to their own betterment (i.e. the bike parts would have fixed a bike they in turn would have sold, the profit of which would cover their own teachers’ salaries, as well as the breakfast and lunch they receive every day)...but clearly, they’re not thinking this way.

The more I’ve sat and ruminated on this frustration, the more I’ve realized that Tanzanian people are never taught integrity as a quality to value really; therefore, somehow they are not to blame for this behavior. I know this may sound crazy to some, but it’s true. There’s no such thing as an honor code (sorry for all you Westminster alums out there:); cheating is rampant in schools. Teachers have even been known to help their students cheat because it augments their reputation, as well as the school’s which in turn, secures their job, their monthly paychecks.

Moreover, there are very few, if any, consequences for cheating and lying. It’s overlooked by most and forgiven...and thus, the next day, it continues. The vicious cycle persists in homes, schools, businesses and in society at large which is clearly a major cause for the country’s high HIV/AIDS prevalance. Faithfulness to one partner is so rare, the practice is practically scoffed at. Few Tanzanians believe that a man or a woman could possibly remain with one person forever.

Stealing, lying and cutting corners is a way of life for most here – as it is for many living in extreme poverty; “being dishonest” (moral relativism eh?) may mean their child eats more than 1 meal per day or that they can afford secondary education: meeting basic needs, in other words. Can I blame a mother for stealing food to feed her starving child or the orphaned boy who steals an item (like fly wheels from our bike shop, say, because this is what actually occurred last month at school) he can sell in town to buy himself some shoes?

Sure, these dishonest ones may claim they’re Christian or Muslim, but they seem to overlook the simplest of commandments like not stealing or committing adultery. Even the most religious, educated, professional (government workers, for example), and seemingly dependable of Tanzanians take great freedom in these departments – so much so that it makes it difficult to live and work here. Who can I trust?

And what am I to do? Do I respond as many expatriates do who have spent years in country and view this downfall as merely “a cost of living” in Tanzania? Should I forgive my kids for stealing...again? When is enough enough? Should I give in to bribery and see it as “just the way it is”? I have a hard time doing this morally. I guess I need to choose my battles and find that line - that thin line of when I should take a stand and when I should just let it go and forgive...that, and focus on all the positives aspects which outweigh this negative part of life in Tanzania. I may have come to country an optimist, an idealist, but I'm growing into more of a "realist optimist," it seems; losing some naivite isn't all that bad...

A close friend asked me recently if I ever get tired and want to throw in the towl. Yes, I do, especially on days when my most precious values are challenged, when my kids don't seem to care or appreciate my efforts, or when I see hopelessness in their eyes. Those are tough days.

I have a similar sentiment coming face to face with a street kid downtown glazed over, high on glue - without an ounce of hope in his body, not a soul caring for him in the world. Or when I visit students' homes and find 10 people are sleeping in a 1 room shack, often flooded by rains and muck...the mom HIV positive...her 18 year old son already the father of a child and his girlfriend preparing to deliver again soon. And they're eating one meal a day, if they're lucky. Or interviewing potential students, youth ranging from 18 to 21 years of age (as I did this last Thursday), who are still sitting at home without a thing to do, jobless since they graduated from 7th grade 5 years or more ago. Just sitting. Waiting. Deciding who's the most vulnerable for our next intake of students is laughable, really. Who's not vulnerable? Sometimes I wonder, where is God?

And I get tired more often when I'm not taking care of myself, doing what I need to do to stay balanced. It may come across as selfish, but this is what I've discovered is the secret to not burning out and becoming totally overwhelmed by the injustices of life here as a Peace Corps volunteer, as a person living and serving abroad...and perhaps for life in general: the more we take care of ourselves, the more we can take care of others.

*Magnificent Mt. Meru. Reminds me who's boss. Yupo*

Upcoming Memory Books Seminar

2008-01-25T06:13:00.000-08:00

*Our Women's panel stars: Nurse/Comedian Margaret Olumbe, Nurse Winifrida and Mama Mosha, head facilitator and founder of local NGO, Women in Action (WIA)*

Girls Empowerment Seminar #1 successfully completed this month at school (Jan 11-13) with over 100 kids participating. Phew. It was a handful, but well worth it, as seminars usually are. The highlight was definitely the Women's panel on the last day where 2 Tanzanian nurses, full of spunk and attitude, shared with our kids on a plethora of issues from AIDS testing to masturbation. The older mama and special guest, oozing with confidence, even danced and sang for the crowd on request; she brought the house down with her humor and genuine concern for young people. Also, shukrani za dhati to fellow PCV Jen "New York" Harding for starring on the panel. Even wazungu represent!

*Students doing a skit on sharing housework responsibilities between boys and girls, mother and father - part of the learning from the segment on gender roles and equality. Our guests, even "New York", look(s) quite frightened in the background. They're just acting!*

The theme for Peace corps-sponsored seminar #2 was just agreed upon: Memory Books for Orphans and Vulnerable Kids. We're hoping to implement this at the end of February. And I'm crossing my fingers more PCV's will be able to assist me in the endeavor (especially since many of us were trained on this method last year in Iringa with our counterparts). The more the merrier.

*Game time outside with all 100 participants - that was interesting*

Perhaps you're wondering, what in the heck is a "memory book"? It's an innovative new technique of psychosocial support for vulnerable youth. For more on memory books, go to http://info.worldbank.org/etools/docs/library/162495/sector/memorybook.htm:

Another tool for communication is the Memory Book, which was recently introduced in Zimbabwe. Originating in Uganda, the memory book is a journal of facts and memories for children who are facing loss or separation from a parent, including divorce, any terminal illness or adoption, and it is appropriate for any culture or background. If children are separated from their parents, memories and identity tend to fade. The Memory Book is an attempt to keep the memories alive and strengthens the child’s sense of belonging.

The parent or caregiver fills in information and personal stories under different headings, including “My favourite memories of you,” “Your health,” “Information about your father,” “Family traditions and special events,” and “The family tree.” As the introduction of the book states, it helps “children to understand the past and move on to a more secure future.” It is a photocopiable resource, which makes it affordable and easy to distribute to parents and carers.

There are various ways of completing the memory book. The parent can complete it and then go through it with the child or the child can help in its completion. An important aspect of the book is that the child has the opportunity to ask questions about its history and future. If the parent wishes, the book can include input from other family members, photographs and other memories to remind the children of life before the separation from their family.

The Memory Book is a tool to help the parent and the child to deal with the past, present and future of the child. As it is common for orphaned children to be moved into a different area, the book serves as a reminder of their roots so they do not lose their sense of belonging. Disclosing the parents’ HIV status is not the main goal of the book, but it does allow the opportunity to talk about HIV and facilitates disclosure to other family members.

The book is also beneficial with regard to HIV prevention, because the children witness and understand the ordeal the parent is going through and do not want to repeat it. Mothers in Zimbabwe who have learned about the Memory Book from the Positive Women’s Network say it made them aware of their children’s fears about the future. By discussing the book, they were able to talk about who the child can turn to with questions and problems, and their children could be part of the decision on where they will live after the bereavement, both of which empower the children by giving them choices. Talking about death ahead of time affords the children the opportunity to test the decision of where to live over the holidays to see if it would actually work.

Talking to children about death and dying is difficult for all parties involved. It brings out sensitive issues that the parent may not be ready to deal with. For example, one mother was filling out the Memory Book when she came to the page on the history of the father and said, “How do I tell my child about his father if I don’t even know who he is?” This and other similar problems indicate a need for additional counseling for parents while working on the book or of adapting the book format.

“By talking to your children about the future and teaching them how to take care of themselves, you create empowered orphans who can live on their own even if they’re 8.It is important to teach children that life isn’t always rosy, but that they are able to deal with the most difficult situations.”

Chipo Mbanje, Positive Women’s Network, Zimbabwe

*My boys having fun, borrowed my camera :)*

And some inspiration from Bono from his book/speech "On the move":

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives. GOD IS WITH US IF WE ARE WITH THEM."

"If you remove the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger and speaking wickedness, and if you give yourself to the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness and your gloom will become like midday and the Lord will continually guide you and satisfy your desire in scorched places" - Isaiah 58:9-11

*Lunchtime at Seminar*

A-town

2007-12-24T01:09:00.000-08:00

In a ploy to have friends come visit me before I complete my service this coming Fall 2008, please read the following review of the magical place known as A-town, the local's term for Arusha. I recently learned that Arusha is also the Hindi name for "the rising sun":

Arusha is a city of northern Tanzania surrounded by some of Africa's most famous landscapes and national parks. Beautifully situated below Mount Meru (pictured above - a brilliant 3 day climb to the top) on the eastern edge of the eastern branch of the Great Rift Valley, it has a pleasant climate and is close to Serengeti, Ngorongoro Crater, Lake Manyara, Olduvai Gorge, Tarangire National Park, and Mount Kilimanjaro, as well as having its own Arusha National Park on Mount Meru. Arusha is the capital of the Arusha Region and has a population of 270,485 (2002 census).

Despite its closeness to the equator, Arusha's elevation of 1400 m (4600 ft - just like Highlands, NC:) on the southern slopes of Mount Meru, keeps temperatures down and alleviates humidity. Cool dry air is prevalent for much of the year. The temperature ranges between 55 and 86 degrees Fahrenheit with an average around 77. It has distinct wet and dry seasons, and experiences an eastern prevailing wind from the Indian Ocean, a couple of hundred miles east.

Arusha is considered to be one of the best African cities when it comes to great weather and tourism combined. I SAY. Need you hear more?

Arusha's clock tower is supposedly situated at the midpoint between Cairo and Cape Town, therefore representing the halfway point between the two termini of the old British Empire in Africa. The clock tower is currently adorned by the logo of the Coca-Cola Company (Atlanta oyay!). Arusha was also the setting for the 1962 film Hatari! directed by Howard Hawks and starring John Wayne.

Clearly, Arusha is reputed as being one of the most pleasant cities in the world, due its exquisite weather, location, beautiful countryside and lively music scene, notably Tanzanian hip-hop. Mostly performed in Swahili, with various genres influenced by African American music, locally known as Bongo Flava. A good example of this genre is the band X Plastaz, with singers like Bushoke, Mr.Blue, TID, etc.

The wonderous city of Arusha is quite known for its vibrant night life, with outstanding live reggae shows and local night clubs. There's rumor that even Joshua Radin may be coming soon to play at Via Via, a local bohemian cafe set back in the woods...

Kweli.

For those of you more interested friends, please note that Arusha is conveniently served by Kilimanjaro International Airport (KIA) for international travellers, a mere 60 km east, approximately halfway to Moshi. You could walk that! (Okay, maybe only crazy Peace Corps volunteers would...) The airport provides international and domestic flights (if you wanted to fly into Dar es Salaam, say, and then fly up here - also a possibility). The most recommended flight from the US - KLM via Amsterdam. You'll be in Arusha before you can say the word: jamani!

Keep me in mind this New Year, friends - it's your last chance to come visit me in TZ (my PC contract ends around Sept 2008)! Take advantage of your local tour guide, i.e. moi. Whether you be photographer, passionate about orpan care/support, climbing Kili, visiting the plains of the Serengeti, or adventuring in general, karibuni sana.

One of my star students, Neema, kneeling in front of the energy-efficient stove she built outside her bedroom window. I've been hanging out with her a lot this holiday; her place is a mere 10 minute walk from mine. She's a single orphan, living with her mom in quite a tough home environment, as her mom provides the neighborhood with local brew, called mbege, or banana beer, at 25 cents/cup. Essentially, this girl lives in a bar with a kanga (local cloth) serving as the only barrier to her bedroom from the living room full of (drunk) clients. As with so many young girls and women here, I am in awe of her resilience.

"What is the purpose of life, but to make it less difficult for each other?"
-G.Eliot

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He/she to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his/her eyes are closed." -Einstein

To much wonder in 2008...

Selected HIV/AIDS photos from PC contest and Fema mag spot

2007-12-21T04:46:00.000-08:00

http://www.peacecorps.gov/multimediapages/photos/index.cfm?gallery=worldaidsday

The second shot in this collection of winning photos is of my kids in Manga during our HIV/AIDS Soccer Camp this past March in Manga (see March blog entry). Thanks again to my village leaders, Onesmo, and rockstar PCV Emma Jones for their help in making that seminar a reality. The kids loved it. Clearly.

The other pictures chosen are amazing and it's inspiring to see such honorable work going on all over the world to fight against this deadly disease, to empower those affected and infected to live positively and to equip, encourage young people with the skills to protect themselves. It makes me feel less alone knowing that so many other people are striving to do the same work, sharing the same vision...

Also, Fema magazine recently highlighted a picture from the same HIV/AIDS Soccer Camp in their November/December 2007 issue (http://www.chezasalama.com):

UwAjIBIkAjI kwA MABALOZI wA FEMINA HIP
Balozi wa Femina HIP, Onesmo Lyandala katikati aliyevaa
suruali akiwa na wanafunzi wa shule za msingi katika kijiji
cha Manga mara baada ya kumalizika kwa semina ya
siku tatu ya mafunzo ya kujikinga na maambukizi ya Virusi
vya Ukimwi kupitia michezo. Semina hiyo iliandaliwa
na kuendeshwa na Balozi huyo kwa kushirikiana na Emma
Jones wa Peace Corps na kushirikisha wanafunzi 60. Huo
ni mpango aliojiwekea Onesmo katika kuwaelimisha vijana
juu ya masuala mbalimbali kuhusu afya, ujinsia, mahusiano
pamoja na mitindo bora ya maisha, VVU na Ukimwi. Good!
Mabalozi wengine tupeni taarifa zenu, bila shaka mnafanya
kazi nzuri pia.

The best part is that the blurb above in Swa gives PCV Emma Jones all the credit for leading the camp. Truth be told, it was a joint effot. No one can argue that Emma Jones is a star, lakini. Cheers to you, EJ. And rock on Manga village. If they only knew about all the publicity they're getting!

Tupo pamoja.

In honor of my Uncle Scott Davidson...

Rwanda Genocide Tribunals and Thanksgiving

2007-11-28T05:28:00.000-08:00

Tribunals are ongoing here in Arusha at the Africa International Conference Center (AICC). The International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) was established by the Security Council of the United Nations to prosecute persons responsible for genocide and other serious violations of international humanitarian law committed in the territory of Rwanda between January - December, 1994. After a mere 15 minute ride from my house, one can enter the halls of the monstrous AICC compound after showing identification and sit it on one of the live trials of those accused of genocide involvement. Amazing, really. As I keep being reminded, "I'm no longer in Kansas (i.e. Manga, kijijini) anymore"....

Some of my PC friends joined me there for 2 consecutive days after our Thanksgiving celebration in Singida (a town SW of Arusha - shout out to Kate Raum and Abdallah, babu wetu!). After observing a non-eventful case on Monday, we returned the following day for a judgement of a gentleman named "Simba." It was an appeal of a case that had begun back in 2002 following his arrest in 2001 in Senegal. This man was accused of involvement as a miliary colonel. He was indeed found guilty as charged and sentenced to 25 years imprisonment before our eyes.

What I enjoyed most was the diversity of lawyers, judges, guards and other workers in the courtroom, from all over the world, from every continent; for example, the trial chamber judges hail from Saint Kitts, Pakistan, Tanzania, Norway, Fiji, Madagascar, Russia, Argentina and Sri Lanka. Moreover, I was able to listen to the case with headphones offering French, English or KiRwanda. It's a phenomenal example of people uniting against impunity. My only complaint: inefficiency. In the 10 years since the tribunal's initiation, over $1 billion dollars have been spent with only 33convictions resulting. Enough said. And we wonder why life is so expensive in Arusha...or why many locals have the impression that all wazungu are rich. A lot of that has to do with the United Nations' presence, which most Tanzanians I've spoken with, resent greatly.

Singida, our locale for Thanksgiving festivities, surprised me - there IS water, first of all (most Tanzanians claim that Singida is a dustbowl, starving for H20). In fact, it boats a beautiful lake, Lake Singida, whose circumference my dada, Saraben, and I decided to challenge. We failed. Let me preface our journey with the fact that we were informed by residents (yes, by people who live there) that the walk around the lake's edge would only require a 2 and a half hour committment. This was clearly false. After 2 long hours, we quenched our thirst at a local mission with some Catholic nuns (Kate - the water was full of sand, might I add - I have been enlightened and am even more empathetic to the way you spent 2005-07:), puzzled with our lack of progress. But we kept on marching. We PCVs don't give up easily. When we reached a segment of rocks protruding into the lake but not quite far enough to allow us to cross, we realized we may have bitten off a bit more than we could chew; it appeared as if we had roughly 5 more hours of strenuous walking had we continued at this point. Hence, time to re-evaluate. Our pow wow offered the following options:
1-Return to the nuns and beg them for a ride back to town, which they may or may not be able to provide, especially with gas prices as astronomical as they are currently
2-Keep on walking and hope to return to our host, who lives on the lake, by dark??? Maybe (a plethora of question marks and optimism here)
3-Try to find a fisherman who could paddle the carved-out-of-tree-trunk canoes that we'd noticed lakeside to the opposite side of the lake for a small fee

*The one and only, Saraben, and me doing "the Saraben face" (I'm trying to tu)*

As you could probably guess, we went for option #3. And it makes for a great story. I will paint an abridged version - we kindly begged some kids for the nearest fisherman/paddler. They ran to get them. They came to greet us. We talked. We shmoozed in Swahili. We agreed on the price tag of $4 for the supposed hour ride. They then walked (...slowly) to procure the biggest canoe, one which they claimed could accomodate 6 people. When it finally arrived 40 or so minutes later, we jumped in, Saraben donning a nice Pocahontas look with her feather and bronzed skin. Then, we entertained ourselves with camp songs as we prayed that there really weren't any crocodiles as someone had teased. We struggled to judge where the house was that we had stayed in for the last 2 days - harder than you might think when the sun's in your face. Once we located the house, we were in good spirits and starting singing louder, hoping our friends might get a peek of our adventurous return. No luck however - we ended up having to text a friend to come and meet us at the shore. He was a lucky man - the first to take in our soaking wet wowowos (behinds). The best part - we didn't change clothes. All night.

I am quite keen on how this life, this work requires you to go with the flow. It's compulsary. There's no way around it - one must be flexible and embrace the unknown, adventure. There's never any knowing what each day brings here and I LOVE THAT.

*My boys after our first soccer match. Note to self:they like having uniforms - they insisted on keeping them on for Talent Show and subsequent dance party at school*

Tumaini Porter Training - first summit of Kilimanjaro - latest update: 23 out of 26 summitted all the way to Uhuru Peak! I'm leaving tomorrow morning to meet my kids at the gate after their 7 day experience on the magnificent mountain. 15 boys and 10 girls participated and were required to carry at least 18 KG for training purposes. They will each be paid $10/day for future ascents as porters - the highest rate offered in Tanzania for portering, thanks to our partner, Rift Cross Safaris. We're currently working on developing a long-term training program so that the most proven porters have opportunities to continue on to professional guiding school.

*My boys with a local car mechanic guest speaker*

Happy December and World AIDS Day to all. Let us remember all who are infected and affected...

"The larger an area of light, the greater the circumference of darkness that surrounds it" -Einstein

Karibu Mark Green, US Ambassador to TZ

2007-11-26T06:39:00.000-08:00

*This visit is great exposure for Tumaini and Global Alliance, our NGO; more importantly, my bike students are now famous :). I can't wait to show them this picture. From left to right: Boniface Kimboka, Tumaini Center's Director, Mark Green, US Ambassador, Neema, Iddy, Ally, Alex, God, Shaibu, Ibra, Leyeyo, Azizi and me

Press Release (as seen at http://tanzania.usembassy.gov)
U.S. Ambassador Visits Peace Corps Volunteer Providing Life Skills to Students at Tumaini Orphan Vocational Training Center in Arusha
November 20, 2007

U.S. Ambassador to Tanzania Mark Green visited the Tumaini Orphan Vocational Training Center in Arusha on Friday, November 16, 2007. He sat in a health class taught by a third-year Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV). Since 2006, Tumaini has partnered with the U.S. Peace Corps to host a PCV with prior experience to lead Life Skills. The training makes the center’s youth more aware of HIV/AIDS transmission and prevention coupled with the essential competencies for leading healthy, productive lives, such as communication, decision-making and relationship skills.

Founded in 2000 in Arusha, the Tumaini Vocational Training Center is one of the many programs of the Global Alliance for Africa (GAA), an NGO based in Chicago, Illinois, USA. It is dedicated to providing support and care to children who have been orphaned by HIV/AIDS. Its mission is to provide capacity building to orphans and vulnerable children (OVC) so that the youth may enter the formal economic sector and realize their potential, actualizing their own personal, social and economic advancement.

The Tumaini Vocational Centre strives to provide orphaned and vulnerable children (OVC) in Tanzania access to vocational training, life skills training, and psychosocial support. The center provides specific vocational training in: bicycle mechanics, bicycle maintenance and repair, welding, computer training, secretarial skills, and foreign language courses in English, French and Spanish.

Tumaini's niche focuses on serving as a self-sustaining bike center empowering vulnerable youth of Arusha. In addition to teaching Life Skills, the Peace Corps Volunteer coordinates with the bike shop manager, assisting with bike sales, accounting and marketing in the surrounding community. All income from selling the refurbished bicycles goes towards off-setting school fees for the children.

With financial support from the U.S. President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), the PCV aspires to organize a series of Life Skills seminars pairing Life Skills sessions with community bike rides. The purpose is to provide education in an interactive, creative way, while simultaneously enhancing recognition of the bike center. Furthermore, the bike rides will provide Tumaini’s youth with a healthy outlet to avoid risky activities, behavior. The hope is that more youth will engage in bike riding for fun, in addition to practical use.

Further Background on Tumaini Center in Arusha

There are over 200 students, ranging in ages from 16-24, that receive instruction at Tumaini Orphan Vocational Training Center, and the number continues to increase each year. The Tumaini Center is committed to the educational development of OVC (ninety percent of the students are orphans) and youth who - due to the impact of HIV/AIDS - lack the resources to attend primary and secondary school in Tanzania. The strategic goal of Tumaini's educational programs is to provide capacity building to youth so that they can enter the formal economic sector (e.g., to work as mechanics, secretaries and/or tour guides).

In the future, Tumaini plans to expand, offering tourism, business and hotel management courses. Links are being made with local safari and climbing outfitters in order to offer mountain trekking training and job placement. If sufficient financial backing is realized, an on-site hotel may be built, offering the students hands-on learning in the hotel business.

finally some UPS to balance the downs of late

2007-10-16T03:07:00.000-07:00

*Visit to my favorite bibi (grandmother) in Manga, Bibi Rahema.Yupp.She's standing.I'm kneeling*

*Debora and family with me at CCBRT Rehabilitative Center in Dar. This was prior to her cleft lip reconstructive surgery. Deborah is a 15 year old girl from the village of Ibatu, a two hour bike ride into the bush from Manga*
*Debora post-surgery healed and happy with her family (mom, brother, sister, uncle), visiting me, Kate (new volunteer in Manga - center) and nurse Atu in Manga last weekend. A miracle*

This surgery was not associated with the Peace Corps in any way, but was by far one of, if not, the most rewarding side project(s) I've ever been involved with - the work of friends of friends. Needless to say, it remains to be the most worthy vacation day I've ever spent in Dar es Salaam! This would not have been possible without the helping hands of Atu Kilasi of Manga dispensary, Jill Stanley of CCBRT, Lisa Peters, Dada Lucy and the Crane family. Thanks for the visits, cake, clothing donations, books and love you showered on Deb during her stay in Dar. Shukrani!
*New world map by Chasaki of Njombe completed at CHASAWAYA Orphan Vocational Center*
*My student Soitoti, his brother and new wife at their wedding this past Sunday. Look happy!* *Soitoti's mom and sisters with me showing off their zawadi (gift), a Maasai gourde, for the new bride and groom*

More photos from return trip to Manga, recent Memory Books Seminar in Iringa, teaching at Tumaini and burgeoning appropriate technology program (wind power), Mkombozi mobile school and hike to local waterfalls with friends at this Snapfish link:
http://www1.snapfish.com/share/p=312161192537415739/l=313246518/g=13602658/cobrandOid=1000001/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

Lastly, in memory of the beloved Julius Nyerere (Nyerere Day was this past Sunday, Oct 14), Tanzania's first president, I thought I'd end with one of his most memorable quotes:
"We the people would like to light a candle and put it on the top of Kilimanjaro that would shine beyond our borders, giving hope where there is despair, love where there is hate, and dignity where there is humiliation"

"Action expresses priorities"
-Gandhi

My kids

2007-09-17T06:19:00.000-07:00

Pictured here are my new students at Tumaini Center - all orphans - displaying their collages, our Lesson #1 - meant to serve as an identity and empowerment exercise. I asked them to select and paste pictures to exhibit who they are now and/or to reveal who they want to be (goal-setting is one of the most paramount life skills!)

*Godfrey - wants to be a Mechanic*

*Leyeyo - wants to be a Welder*

*Alex - wants to be a Welder*

*Neema (my only girl - a rockstar, this one) - wants to be a Secretary or Businesswoman*

*Ally - wants to be a Mechanic*

*Iddy - wants to be a Mechanic or own a Garage for Auto Mechanics*

*Ibra - wants to be a Welder*

*Azizi - wants to be a Mechanic*

*Samantha, our NGO's Assistant Director, visiting from Chicago, joining us for our monthly Talent Show. She oh so gracefully walked on her hands while I juggled. Talent, pure talent...:)*

*Soitoti, Samantha and me at the Talent Show. Soitoti is one of my best students, a Maasai, and is set on teaching me Kimaasai. We had our first lesson last week - Metti Inyoo Torono Tukul means "There are no worries, no problems"*

I hate to be so downtrodden and depressing in my blog entries of late, but we had yet another student pass away last week – this time, a suicide. Merely eighteen years old, she was known as Anita. Her friends tell me she was living with her grandmother and grandfather, who beat her incessantly. She decided to take her own life with poison.

With these three recent student deaths, particularly the last one being a suicide, I have felt so helpless, confounded with the question: How does one instill hope in another? As a result, I texted several of my fellow PCV’s the same question to collect their thoughts as they certainly face similar struggles. Here were some of the responses I received (and I welcome your contributions):

•“It helps to identify something they are proud of, passionate about to live for”
•“By always having hope oneself and by loving unconditionally, especially children”
•“Guess all you can do is believe in them strongly and hope that will be contagious”
•“Oh man, to instill hope in another! It’s hard enough to instill hope for ourselves!”
•“Seems like the answer should be, ‘show them there’s something worth living for’ but that’s so obtuse, impractical…”
Word. Thanks friends.

This sentiment of helplessness was only exacerbated yesterday, Sunday afternoon, when following a really uplifting service at Vineyard Church, I wandered to the downtown post office to check for mail. On my way, I uncovered what seems to be the hangout for Arusha street kids (at long last – had been searching for it actually). Emerging from a staircase leading into sleeping quarters of some kind, a group of these ruffians encircled me seemingly high and messed up, sniffing the infamous glue that keeps them platonic, free of worry and pain (*I highly recommend the French produced documentary Darwin’s Nightmare, filmed in Tanzania, which touches on glue-sniffing and its production near Lake Victoria. Note: this film has been banned in TZ due to its apparent bias - you should see it to decide yourself*). They were partially hiding these plastic bottles in their shirts, but would bend their heads down intermittently for a sniff. Shocked but curious, I wanted to explore, know more, but just wobbled down the street, stiff and saddened by the scene. I didn’t want to believe what I had viewed in the documentary was really true and there it was, in my face. These same kids I will now see every time I go to the Posta - kids I wish I knew and could helpbut can I? Should I?

I was rocked. Utter helplessness rushed over me as I jumped on the daladala back to Njiro, my neighborhood consisting mostly of wealthy Indians, Africans and Europeans, most of whom are working for the United Nations, living in mansions, employing handfuls of Tanzanians for mere landscaping and spending money kama maji (like water). I felt like an absolute shmuck, in every sense of the word. The dichotomy of my two contradictory roles living here as an American Peace Corps volunteer slapped me upside the head again. I feel like I’m constantly struggling to balance my two selves – 1. as a mzungu, a foreigner or mtajiri, rich person and 2. as an ‘integrated’ (at least, I hope so) volunteer, living and working with Tanzanians, striving to be on their level. Although this was a struggle in the village, it’s more poignant here in Arusha where the difference between the classes, between rich and poor is so evident.

Welcome to my life. I like to call it the Teeter Totter. I guess it’s fitting for someone nicknamed Tater Tot, eh? And so, I continue to teeter here between highs and lows, between being the well-off one and the pseudo-Tanzanian, which is exhausting, yes, but a lot can be learned from this tension, both internal and external. I am a Gemini, so I guess this balancing act should come naturally, somehow.

Below, that other self - being silly with Peace Corps friends on a weekend (from left, Megan, me, Jen and Pami). Megan and Pami were "baptising" Jen and me to the Northern region of TZ with mitumba trucker hats as we both recently began our extensions up here, transferring from the South.

Week # 1

2007-08-31T06:19:00.000-07:00

My first week of teaching at Tumaini Orphan Vocational Training Center is under my belt...well, not really a full week as one day, Tuesday, classes were cancelled and the entire school spent the day mourning the loss of our second student’s death in the last month. Her name was Bahati (meaning "luck," ironically) – a healthy, smart 16 yearold girl, who was under the fog of malaria and apparently overdosed on the meds. Her family found her not breathi in her bed the following day after taking the prophylaxis - the treatment recommended by the hospital, might I add. There are so many seemingly pointless deaths here; it never ceases to amaze and sadden me. It’s no wonder that Tanzanians are so much more willing to hand things over to God – they have no control. Everything is mungu akipenda or "God-willing." They are forced to be passive, so submissive to His will. But is it God’s will to allow this young sister to pass so early? These are the questions without answers. There are so many of them here...

Now, I don’t mean to make light of Tanzanians faith in God; it’s admirable, but at times, it seems like they could and should fight more, taking some of the situation into their own hands, pursuing help earlier, for instance. In fact, a language instructor named Peter, who trains our new volunteers every summer, also died merely a few weeks ago. While training this past June and July, he continued to lose weight dramatically, his tone became ashy, and his energy left him. Despite all of these factors, no one did anything. His fellow Tanzanian peers remained paralyzed and there was very little, if any, action taken in order to procure professional help, to check on his status. Finally, someone insisted he go to the hospital in the capital, Dar. It was only until their persistence that he received proper care, but clearly, it was too late. He died there after a few weeks. Could this have been avoided? We’ll never know, but it is a cultural phenomenon, endemic to Tanzania and perhaps other countries where medical care is less than sufficient. There seems to be a sense of helplessness, a sense of letting go that’s to an extreme.

We, on the other hand, in the Western world, have control over our death – or at least, think we do. There are certainly less deaths with medical clinics on every corner, health education taught in schools from an early age and we boast a startling ratio of doctors per person. Doctors are sued if they misdiagnose or mistreat a patient; thus an overdose of malaria medication would be unheard of (not to mention that actually contracting malaria would be unheard of, but you catch my drift :).

I couldn’t help but compare this girl’s death and funeral with my grandmother’s just a few weeks ago, which I attended in Atlanta, where we sat in an air-conditioned room in neat rows. The casket was set and centered before us, decorated with a floral arrangement preordered by our family. In Tanzania, a land where being in the moment rules, we circled the abyss into which her coffin was lowered. Huddled tightly, onlookers were sandwiched between buried youth on both sides – one having passed the week before, the same age as I. The dirt towered above, piled high, making Bahati’s loss all the more real and raw. Her physical body would soon be covered by dirt and there it would remain in the ground (“…until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken for dust you are and to dust you will return” – Genesis 3:19).

After the minister’s words, brawny boys dressed in street clothes shoveled the same dirt over her coffin until a dense mound was formed. People took turns leveling it so as to prepare for the minister’s imprint of a cross, which he made using a pipe. Then, slowly, one by one, her loved ones stepped forward to decorate the mound with flowers, even with the stems of the already used roses, thus sticking in mere stems, now headless. What remained made quite a picture – a harmonious combination of natural elements, people’s hands, words and songs.

The Tanzanian minister kept stressing that death is an unavoidable fact of life. We will all die. Let’s face it, he said. He hoped her passing would wake up the youth attending her burial service so that they may live carefully, deliberately. He even addressed AIDS as stealing so many of the young kids today, even though this clearly wasn’t the case for Bahati. There was an overarching sense of “well, this is how it is; let’s learn from it and move on.” As the Swahili proverb goes (with which I was once “comforted” by a Tanzanian friend when my cousin died), “Maji yakimwagika hayazoleki,” meaning water that’s fallen can no longer be gathered. Let it go, in other words.

It seemed rather callous to state the latter as her mother, sisters, and aunts wailed in sorrow behind me. Cuddled on the ground in the dirt, dressed in white now turned ivory, these women could not contain their grief (Cultural note: the burial day is the only day where Tanzanians are culturally permitted to release their sorrow; afterwards, it’s not perceived as appropriate. Resultingly, they REALLY let it all go). The chorus sang about the angels welcoming her to heaven, about her Father waiting for her entrance. Men, women and young students’ voices came together magically as they always seem to do here. I had never felt such tender sadness and beauty simultaneously. I looked up and there was Mt. Meru unveiled in its glory – a rock in the midst of this unexplainable loss. Calming me, its glow reminded me not to question the Creator…and to be at peace knowing that both Bahati and my grandmother are in a better place, the same place.

At Gramabea’s service, her passing was referred to in a more gentle, indirect manner. It was her time, her season. Her spirit would now be present with her parents, my cousins and above all, she would be at peace, finally released from her struggle with Parkinson’s. This disease dealt her great pain in her later years, but with the power of medicine, she remained healthy, active and sharp as ever. Unlike Bahati, she was able to live her life until it was no longer physically possible. Modern medicine and skilled doctors kept her with us and we were blessed to have her and her wisdom with us for so long.

In the US, we don’t want to face death so head on, do we? It’s as if we tip toe around it. Afraid of dying, we resist talking about it, thinking about it and take great measures to prolong the day of moving on from our physical bodies. I think we should be bolder, more confrontational with this inevitable fact of life. We can learn from Tanzanian...in part.

Peace from A-town,
Tait

PS:To post this blog, I jumped on a daladala (a small minivan and main mode of transport here) from my house to enter town. The going price is 300 Shillings or about 30 cents. When the driver tried to charge me more (due to my beautiful white skin), I refused, saying in Swahili, "I work here, my friend." Jokingly, he responded, "Are you Mpare?" - Mpare is a person from the Pare tribe living near Kilimanjaro known to be stingy and tight with their money. The whole daladala erupted in laughter. Glad I can make people laugh...what it's all about!

in memory of gramabea king...

2007-08-08T17:00:00.001-07:00

BEA CHURCH KING Bea Church King, age 87, died at her home on August 2, 2007. She was born in Dalhart, Texas, the daughter of Magdalen Stone and Herman Church. She spent her high school years in Denton, Texas where she met her husband of 63 years, John Dudley King, her high school sweetheart. She graduated from Texas Women's College and lived in New York City for one year, working as a commercial artist. Bea and Dudley married in 1944 and lived for a short time in Galveston, Texas while Dudley was completing his medical school studies. The couple moved to Atlanta in 1948 and settled in the Buckhead area to raise their family. People often commented on the wonderful, devoted relationship she and Dudley had. They traveled the world together and thoroughly enjoyed their growing family and countless friends. They included their children and spouses on many enjoyable and memorable trips. Bea was quite a lady with a wonderful sense of humor, a great sense of style and a remarkable memory, able to recall details of events, friendships and trips from years past. Bea and Dudley spent their latter years on a beautiful farm 30 miles north of Atlanta in a home she designed, before moving back into town to be closer to their children as their health began to decline. Bea was a devoted and loving mother and grandmother to her five children: Dudley King, Jr., Christy Davidson, Thad King, Marsh King, and Rob King; 17 grandchildren: Dudley King, III, Lindsey Pitts, Michael King, Stephanie Lemke, Tait Davidson, King Davidson, Hunter King, Virginia McCune, Denton King, Chase King, Dalton King, Brice King, Blake King, Wilson King, Abbie Finlayson, Carter King, and Parker King; and 14 great-grandchildren. Bea will be greatly missed and is survived by her husband, five children, four daughters-in-law and many grandchildren and great grandchildren. She also appreciated and loved her wonderful caregivers, Beverly Danvers for the past 5 years, Corraine Bent for the past 3 years, Hellen Wandeto, Rena Blakeney and Sonia Williams.

Tumaini (Hope)

2007-07-29T02:50:00.000-07:00

“Go to the people – live with them, learn from them, love them. Start with what they know. Build with what they have. But the best leaders, when the work is done, the task accomplished, the people will say, ‘we have done this ourselves.’”
-Lao Tsu (700 BC)

*Current state of Girls' Boarding Facility, Mahongole Secondary School. Bado kidogo...*

Goodbyes in my village were - in a word - bittersweet. It was heart-wrenching to close the door on my life in Manga, my simple, beautiful life without water and electricity, without all those things I thought I needed (like fruit, for starters), surrounded by the most sincerely loving people I may ever come across katika maisha yangu.

Not only did I say goodbye to an entire village that I loved deeply and that loved me back ten-fold, but I also had to say goodbye to the person I was in that village. Will I ever have the opportunity to be that person, to have that role again? Will I ever be able to live at the same level with people in a small, rural village in the 5th poorest country in the world, as I did in Manga, Tanzania? Being “Furaha,” being a village health teacher who had to bike 20 km for mere groceries, being the only white person for miles and feeling one with the Wabena people of the Southern Highlands, is a role I have embraced and cherished and will never forget “mpaka milele” (until eternity). That role, that life, will be left in Manga, but will live on in my memory.

*giving goodbye speech at front table*

My fondest kumbukumbu (memory) during the week of goodbyes occurred at my official village goodbye party when my favorite bibi (grandmother) 'Kowzin' processed forward to the head table (pictured above) where I was sitting underneath our flag unfurled (sweetly hung upside down:)-perhaps I could've been a better ambassador from the USA, eti?) whilst a herd of my mama's group accompanied her, singing about upendo (love) in Kibena. Holding a basket she wove, packed full of lemons and avocados, she reminisced about the love I showed her and the villagers of Manga...and about my love for her lemon and avocado tree, the lone fruit trees in the village (prior to our avocado planting). Every time I biked by her house, she would call me in, insisting I take a bag full home. I would climb her tree while she hit the fruits down with a bamboo pole (a much more effective method, I soon discovered). These are the moments that are simply unforgettable, forever singed in my mind, my heart. Her song meant the world to me. She concluded with the most perfect Swahili proverb: "Mountains do not meet, but people do."

Ndachene ndiwhilapa ihitundu shenduvile sindi henga hata!

Now, I must move on; I must change and adapt…again. I feel like my 20s have consisted of just this – changing, packing and unpacking. Strangely enough, it’s a process I enjoy and thrive in, somehow. I like playing the “chameleon,” as my Counterpart Kaduma dubbed me. I like to be challenged and to be forced to conform to life in different environments with people of various backgrounds. If there is no challenge, I find myself restless, wanting more, looking for things to be difficult in a way, as sick as that may sound.

And here I sit, in a wireless internet cafe, having moved to Arusha yesterday, a place where convenience is ubiquitous, a place where toilet paper is predictable in every restroom, where English is actually spoken - and well, where tribes are as diverse as the town’s restaurant menus (What? They serve more than rice and beans?): the Waarusha, Wameru, Wachagga and of course, the infamous Wamaasai. Gentleness, however, is not the name of the game as it was in Manga, among the Wabena. There’ll be no curtsying here, Tait (I keep forgetting, finding myself piga-ing magoti and feeling like a fool). But hey, this is city life, and it may not be that bad not having to pack small wads of toilet paper into my bra anymore.

*Tumaini Vocational Training Center (blue bike barn on left)*

So why am I here in Arusha? I am blessed enough to have been approved for a 3rd year extension with the Peace Corps to work for Tumaini, an educational center meaning hope (pictured above). Tumaini is a vocational training center and school for orphans and vulnerable children (OVC). Its parent NGO is called Global Alliance for Africa (GAA), with its main fundraising office based in Chicago. Established in 1996, GAA has 16 African partners and over 1,500 orphans and vulnerable children involved in its programming efforts to date.

Their mission is to foster self-reliance among youth and community development on a grassroots level. Thus, all of their staff is Tanzanian (aside from me) with major decisions made in consultation with the American staff in Chicago (for more details, see: www.globalallianceafrica.org). Tumaini provides not only vocational training, but also English, Spanish, French and Math classes so as to prepare Tanzanian youth for tourism and secretarial industries. Furthermore, they cooperate with several partner agencies and small community-based organizations (CBOs) in Arusha, such as Women in Action (WIA), Msamaria, Huruma Children’s Trust, Sisters of Canossa, and Edmund Rice Secondary School. These partners serve as feeders to Tumaini center, identifying and assisting orphaned youth. I’m really looking forward to meeting them in the next month in order to assess the potential for joint projects, seminars, etc.

During this next year, my primary responsibility is to serve as a Life Skills teacher for Tumaini’s 20 or so orphans or vulnerable children, along with assisting with their bike program. Core to the center’s vocational programs, Tumaini’s bicycle maintenance and repair program is the essence of sustainability, providing the majority of the 12 current staff salaries (including teachers, cooks and a grounds man). What occurs is second hand bikes are shipped in a large container to Tumaini, whose children (along with staff guidance) fix up these bikes and sell them to the public with rather large price tags, particularly for Tanzania (bike prices range from $50-100+). Spare (au “spea” kwa Kiswahili:) parts are also sold for additional profit. We’re expecting such a shipment in October; all are anxiously awaiting its arrival.

*The current staff at Tumaini, holding gifts, bidding Patrick (previous Peace Corps volunteer) goodbye*

The center’s aim is that this specific vocational training coupled with life skills (better decision making, communication and relationship skills) will provide these children (ranging from 13-20 years old) with a safe, structured environment, allowing them to more effectively integrate socially, communicate with others and build self-esteem. Our hope is that these youth will realize their potential, contribute to their personal, social and economic advancement, as well as engage in the local community. With half of new HIV/AIDS infections occurring among 15-24 year olds worldwide, enhanced education and vocational skills can be life saving and mitigate the devastating impact of HIV/AIDS on a larger scale. Moreover, providing these kids with greater access to education and income generation is a primary means to alleviating poverty.

Technically, this means I will continue to receive the Peace Corps salary, slightly enhanced, taking into consideration cost of living in an urban center (bumped up from $6/day to $9/day). I realize it will be quite challenging spending less than $9/day due to all the temptations this city offers – a movie theater within walking distance of my house, food/drinks to stay cool in my refrigerator, balsamic vinegar and all the other countless luxury items that vanished from the realm of possibility over the last two years. Perhaps I’ll just never leave my house and the school campus…okay, that may be extreme, but to compromise, I’ll probably make limited trips downtown, visiting the market for fruits and vegetables, checking email and then returning. I may even venture by bike and strap any groceries on my bike carrier for old time’s sake. An added benefit would thus be Tanzanians not perceiving me as the mzungu tourist heading to the Serengeti on safari, but rather as a resident. I know fighting that association will be a battle, and perhaps one which will never be won…

Needless to say, I’m relieved to be in my new home and to initiate the settling in process, all that it entails. As you can imagine, the last two weeks of farewell parties, hectic packing and moving haven’t been so conducive to reflection during this stage of great transition, of liminality. But indeed, here I am at this threshold. And it’s places like these that we grow. As hard as moving on from Manga was and is, I choose growth.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
-Isaiah 40:31

In hope,
Tait

Latest photos from Newala and Goodbyes in Manga:
http://www1.snapfish.com/share/p=226301185804758958/l=285864888/g=13602658/cobrandOid=1000001/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

Newala Out of School Youth Workshop

2007-07-28T07:27:00.000-07:00

Newala. What and where is that you may ask? It's arguably the greatest town of the Deep South, boasting a breathtaking panoramic view of the Ruvuma River, the natural border between Southern Tanzania and Mozambique. One of the 5 districts of the Mtwara Region of Tanzania, the Newala District has a population of around 200,000, with most of the inhabitants originating from the Makonde tribe.
Any further inquiries on life there? Karibu: http://jenintanzania.blogspot.com.
Jen was our mwenyeji (resident) and hostess for the week stay in Newala, her Peace Corps site for the last 2 years. This June, she organized a 6 day Seminar for local street kids and kindly welcomed a few of her fellow Peace Corps friends (me, Maya, Stevu and Jason) to join in the festivities. Clearly, it was all work and NO play...Okay, not really. We had a great time, but teaching 25 street kids-all boys I might add-was no game. It was quite an eye-opening experience for me, for all of us.

*Who woulda thunk to steal the chalk from our classroom and paint their face? This kid did. Mjanja!*

*Teaching...err, trying to teach the boys to build a human pyramid*

*The seminar's directors, Jen and her counterpart, Bakari, lying by the signboards painted by the kids themselves expressing their right and desire to be better supported in the community. The aim was to give these kids a voice, unity. They even initiated their own group called KIWAMINE or Kikundi cha Watoto wa Mitaani wa Newala, "the Street Kids of Newala Group." Now unified and recognized by the District leaders and residents of Newala, hopefully these kids will now feel more empowered and have greater access to both internal (TZ) and external assistance*

Just another day in Newala...at Jen's favorite gas station, eating lunch. Jamila is the star on the bottom left. One word to describe Jamila? Angel. This girl is one of the kindest, most tender kids I've met in country. It's no wonder everyone that meets her falls in love with her. For more on Jamila's story, see Jen's blog. It's worth reading and quite telling of the unfortunate, yet inevitable circumstances so many Tanzanian youth find themselves in - orphaned, lacking positive role models and with a future that's questionable at best. Thankfully, Jen (and her generous friends at home) are changing all that.

Latest photos from Newala and Goodbyes in Manga:
http://www1.snapfish.com/share/p=226301185804758958/l=285864888/g=13602658/cobrandOid=1000001/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

recent incident-loss of our country director :(

2007-06-14T06:11:00.000-07:00

I wanted my friends and family to be aware of this unfortunate incident here in Tanzania-our beloved Country Director was expelled recently. The following is a letter that we developed as volunteers in reaction in hopes to garner support and to request an investigation of the matter. Please read and pass on to whomever you wish, especially if you're friends with Condi :):

We are US Peace Corps volunteers serving in the United Republic of Tanzania. We are writing this letter because the US Ambassador's recent involvement in Peace Corps Tanzania has outraged us and inspired us to seek answers from our elected officials back home. Tanzania's United States Ambassador, Michael Retzer, recently chose to curtail the country clearance of our Peace Corps Country Director, Christine Djondo, after she refused to resign her position and leave voluntarily. The Ambassador illegitimately removed Ms. Djondo from her position for defending the rights of Peace Corps. We as Peace Corps Volunteers in Tanzania are appalled that a public official used his office to coerce a federal employee into advancing his political agenda. This is a formal expression of our opposition to Ambassador Retzer's decision, and we request an investigation of this matter.

While the United States government supervises the Peace Corps, the program was specifically designed to keep us volunteers separate from US Embassies and their political affiliations. Disregarding this precaution, Ambassador Michael Retzer pressured our Country Director to merge the operations of Peace Corps/ Tanzania and the US Embassy by co-locating the President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) office at the Embassy. Furthermore, he wanted to combine the Embassy's and the Peace Corps' Motor Pools and Health units in order to reduce the budget of the United States Mission. In these situations, Ambassador Retzer allowed Ms. Djondo no opportunity for compromise.

Peace Corps has remained independent since its inception in 1961 and it is indisputable that the Ambassador's demands infringed upon its sovereignty as a unique and autonomous organization. Furthermore, by disrespecting Peace Corps' independence in relation to the hiring and firing of staff members, some of Ambassador Retzer's plans may be considered in contempt of the Peace Corps Act (Section 2509A).

A United States Ambassador does not have the power to fire a Peace Corps Country Director: only the Director of the US Peace Corps in Washington has the entitlement to appoint or dismiss a Country Director. Consequently, Ambassador Retzer's only means to remove Ms. Djondo was to take the drastic step of revoking her country clearance. The Ambassador claimed to have little confidence in Director Djondo's leadership ability and therefore made this decision in order to "save" our program.

Ambassador Retzer's agenda for PC/Tanzania could have had a devastating effect on our safety, our relationships in our communities, and on our morale as independent volunteers. We firmly believe Ms. Djondo made the right decision in resisting his intimidation. Ms. Djondo worked diligently to effectively and safely direct our program and continually demonstrated excellent leadership. We thank her for adamantly defending Peace Corps' independence, for consistently upholding the ideals stated in the Peace Corps Act, and for tirelessly supporting the needs of her volunteers despite political pressures that ultimately forced her to leave the country.

On June 8, 2007, the date designated by Ambassador Retzer, Ms. Djondo and her family left Tanzania for Washington DC where she will retain a position at Peace Corps Headquarters. We believe Ms. Djondo has been punished by Ambassador Retzer for defending the security of Peace Corps Volunteers. We are writing today to express our disbelief and indignation at Mr. Retzer's audacious behavior as a public official.

As current and former Peace Corps Volunteers and citizens of the United States of America, we kindly request investigation into his potential misuse of power.

Sincerely,

Renee Stork (California)
Jennifer Harding (New York)
Tait Davidson (Georgia)
Matthew Meyer (Vermont)
Jason Maglaughlin (South Carolina)
Megan Erickson (Washington)

*On Behalf of Peace Corps Volunteers – Tanzania

orphan research in igoma

2007-05-22T07:37:00.000-07:00

I was fortunate to visit my friend Renee's village in Njombe before she finished her 2 years service this last May. She was a model to all of us in the region for her stellar work on behalf of OVC (Orphans and Vulnerable Children). In fact, I recently included these pictures and her experiences, stories in a presentation to the new training class of Health and Environment volunteers. Above is the orphan dinner we put on for the 30+ vulnerable kids identified in her village. Two of them are HIV+ and Renee unfortunately had to inform them of their status; no one else in the village had to courage to step up to the plate. She insisted, insisting that it was their right to know their status, to understand why they were taking medicine every day.

This was the runt of the group - adorable. He followed Renee around every where like a puppy dog.

This is a shot of the mentorship program Renee and her village leaders coordinated with local fundis (crafstmen). They volunteer teach the OVC at least three times per month, sacrificing their time in order to empower these kids - their sons, daughters, or their friends' sons and daughters. It's a worthwhile investment for these kids will be the Tanzania of tomorrow. Renee was blessed that her leaders and local villagers realized this fact. So many others are in denial, unwilling to take responsibility, to take ACTION.

Renee with her girls. Girls empowerment was a major focus for Renee, as it is for so many of us female PCVs.

This is the real hero, Ade (center), the Village Executive Officer of Renee's village. I have never witnessed a man so committed, driven and compassionate. He is a champion for these kids and for the Permaculture movement (That's 6 stalks of corn on the stalk behind him. Check that out Peter Jenson!). He has made OVC care and support of such paramount importance in the region, it's absurd. I wish there were more Tanzanian leaders like this man. He doesn't just talk the talk. He walks it.

lake nyasa (malawi)

2007-05-22T07:23:00.001-07:00

muda unakimbia

2007-04-16T06:27:00.000-07:00

time has been a flying, so in order to show instead of talk so much about what's been happening in the village, karibuni hizi:

http://www1.snapfish.com/share/p=445221177310859973/l=262911424/g=13602658/cobrandOid=1000001/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

the last few months have consisted of:
*interviewing orphans in both my village and makambako along with their caretakers, *hanging with my favorite dada lillian (beverly-see picture in album) who is forced to walk/jog 1 hour+ every day to/from school and dreams to be a radio announcer *coordinating with my mama's group to help them reach their goal of buying their own corn-grinding machine (which would grind the ubiquitous ugali flour eaten 3 times/day in average family) with profits to feed back into their SACA lending group and partially to benefit orphans in the village (to buy a select number school sweaters/uniform)
*making my first journey to neighboring mbeya where coffee is a plenty (clearly seen in picture with my friend chris on a coffee farm)
*visiting my friend megan in nearby, but drastically different madibira
*encouraging the form 1 and 2 girls of manga to stick with their studies especially during the latest exam period
*patiently progressing with the hostel construction there at the secondary school. patience patience-the moral of the story of living and surviving here. thank you to all the generous donors and supporters of this project at home. as you can see in the pictures above, we are not too far from a finished product. as they say in swahili, pole pole ndiyo mwendo, haba na haba hujaza kibaba, roma hakujengwa siku moja and bandu bandu inaisha gogo - all proverbs to express the sage saying, "slowly but surely." indeed.

*a documentary called "born into brothels" inspired me to give the orphans i'm interviewing their own disposable cameras (many thanks to my dad for mailing them!). the goal is for their 27 pictures to capture everyday life-at home, school, on the streets, and in the community. once developed, each child will receive a copy for their own memories (most kids here don't own pictures of themselves, their families, but are desired greatly, as you can imagine). the best pictures will also be integrated into my thesis presentation.

*counting down to may 6-10th, our close of service (COS) conference under mt. meru, near arusha. crazy. as i said, how time has flown...it's time to say goodbye:(, at least to our fellow pcv's, most of whom are returning to the US this may, june or july. where did these 2 years go?

peace,
tait

Extensions Announced

2007-03-28T09:17:00.000-07:00

Here's me with my "besti" as we like to call it here-Jen Harding, the one and only, hailing from Brooklyn. Some of you may have checked out her blog (linked below-http://jenintanzania.blogspot.com), or heard me mention her name back during training where we were in the same Swahili language small group. Kumbe, now we're 2 of the 4 volunteers from our class who want to extend, adding an additional year to our service. Are we more hard core than the rest? Who knows, but we've survived, we love it here and we both have a passion for orphans/vulnerable kids. Fortunately, the gods were good to us as we both landed positions with organizations working with this group. We're psyched! Come visit. We'd love to show you our new worlds. Electricity? Is it possible? Inawezekana. I won't believe it til I see it...

Where I'll be for my 3rd year:
Global Alliance-Arusha Tumaini Program
www.globalallianceafrica.org

"You must be the change you want to see in the world."

Avocado project 2006 and beyond...

2007-03-28T07:57:00.000-07:00

Narrative on my SPA Parachichi (Avocado) Project
(I just thought I'd post this here for fun. I had to submit this to my Peace Corps Supervisor, pictured with me above on my friend Kowzen's farm):

In my small, corn-farming village, there is not a fruit tree as far as the eye can see. In fact, this was the first thing my Supervisor, Virginia Kainamula, remarked upon during her first visit to Manga. I too certainly feel this absence of fruit; I have to bike 20 kilometers to Makambako’s market even for a banana!

Fortunately, soon after arriving in the Njombe district, I discovered an NGO called Enterprise Works, specializing in assisting local farmers to plant trees, specifically fruit trees. Funded by USAID, this organization was established by a returned Peace Corps volunteer, ironically enough. I knocked on their office door in Njombe, met their staff, explained the situation in my village, and we were soon planning their introductory trip to Manga.

They came, they saw, they assessed—our soil, climate and elevation with a handheld GPS. From this assessment, their field officer devised a list of seedling varietals, which would be conducive in our environment, particularly at our high elevation of 1609 meters (5277 feet). Above all, he recommended avocados since they would perform the best and serve to be the most marketable. Moreover, they could sell us the seedlings for a discounted price and deliver them directly to us in their truck-gasoline paid for by USAID! Wonderful, I thought. It was almost too good to be true.

With Virginia’s guidance, I wrote a SPA grant inviting the Enterprise Works Field Officer to our village for a series of educational seminars on the preparation, planting and proper care of seedlings. With local leaders’ assistance, I invited all primary students, their parents, and other interested villagers to attend. The grant also included giving each student-all 576 of them-their very own avocado seedling to plant at their home, plus 25 additional ones to circle the school grounds.

The stated purpose of the project was to increase the amount of fruit grown locally so as to enhance the nutritional intake of villagers, especially among village youth, decreasing the number of villagers visiting the dispensary, as well as to provide income generation. In one of the sessions led by Enterprise Works, they explained how after 3-4 years, their tree could produce up to 800 fruits per year; and if each of these fruits was sold in Makambako for 200 TSH, the going rate, they would profit 160,000 TSH. There would be no more complaining about school fees or tuition then!

The Field Officer came as promised, facilitating these seminars and simultaneously, selling the village leaders and S.A.C.C.O.S. micro-lending group on the benefits of fruit trees. While the students and their families gained knowledge, the desire for growing fruit trees grew exponentially-so much so that villagers created their own order list to purchase seedlings. It was convenient that the S.A.C.C.O.S. members happened to be the most self-starting in the community and those with highest disposable income. They were truly the impetus for this movement. When all was said and done, these individuals, as well as other Manga residents, signed up to buy over 400 seedlings! I was amazed and excited for what this would mean for the future of Manga.

In late December, just after the rains began, Enterprise Works arrived with their first seedling drop-off. After 3 separate trips with over 300 seedlings in their truck bed, they fulfilled our order. That day, nearly 600 students and over 400 villagers planted their seedlings at their respective homes. Kowzen, “my grandfather” of the village and expert farmer, bought over 30 seedlings to essentially create an avocado farm. Manga had changed overnight.

Thankfully, we were blessed this year with heavy rains for our 1000+ new trees. If conditions continue to work in our favor, Manga residents of all ages should eat their first local avocado in 2010, boosting nutrition on a large scale. As they begin to eat more balanced, vitamin-enriched meals, we hope illnesses like colds, coughs, and flu will diminish, thus alleviating the burden at the local dispensary.

Additionally, if they choose, villagers will have the capacity to sell these fruits in Makambako’s market, augmenting their household incomes, so that affording school tuition for their young ones isn’t such a struggle. As a result, more village youth will have the opportunity to continue onto Secondary School, costing a mere 20,000 TSH per year ($20/year).

I pray the “fruits” of this project will be seen, tasted and felt for years to come. I often dream of returning to Manga in 10 years to see kids strolling along the village road, snacking on avocados instead of corn. Anything’s possible.

*Picture above of me and Virginia Kainamula on Kowzen’s avocado farm and below of me with some of the villagers who purchased the seedlings on their own

HIV/AIDS Soccer Camp and Women's Day

2007-03-12T22:50:00.000-07:00

TUPO PAMOJA! (My theme cheer-"We are together")

"Sport has the power to change the world, the power to inspire, the power to unite people in a way that little else can. It speaks to people in a language they understand. Sport can create hope where there was once despair. It's an instrument for peace, even more powerful than governments. It breaks down racial barriers. It laughs in the face of all kinds of discrimination..." -Nelson Mandela

I would add that sport also has the power to bridge the gap between women and men, girls and boys. Girls can play, too. It was powerful for these girls; they were ecstatic to be included in all the soccer matches-something never done. They are usually separated, moved to a smaller side field to play netball only. Soccer is for boys here. But not in our camp. It was for everyone...

Sitting with Emma, my dog, and boxes of soccer balls her church generously mailed from North Carolina. When we presented the balls to the Headmaster for the school's use, I thought he was going to cry:)Thank you Pullen! Thank you Cheryl! Thank you Gretchen! Manga is grateful. SANA.

Life Skills led by Onesmo, our Femina rep and facilitator extraordinaire, me and Emma Jones, Health PCV-Katesh

The women's day career panel was also a success, with 2 women from town taxi-ing up to the beautiful Mahongole Secondary. Happiness, a banker at Makambako's NMB bank, talked about her role model, her father, and his unceasing support of her educational pursuits-something all too rare in this culture.

The other speaker was my counterpart, Kaduma, the star of Makambako (pictured above). I have never met a woman as empowered as she is. The girls felt this too. She shared about her personal experiences being pressured by men to have sex, to accept sexual favors for money or school supplies, etc. She stressed never to fall into such traps-omnipresent for girls. She encouraged them to keep on keeping on, not losing sight of their goals for the future. Furthermore, she emphasized the importance of not keeping things inside, but to express to others how you're feeling, what your struggles may be; perhaps then others may be able to help you, especially your female teachers (don't feel like you have to go to the male faculty).

The girls' (students) questions amazed me:
1.What do I do if I really want to study, but my parents just want to marry me off for a dowry and have already initiated arrangements to do so?
2.What do I do when I'm required to pay the Form#2 (Sophomore) exam fee and don't have the money to take it and/or my dad/parental guardian is unable to afford it or is not interested in supporting me to do so?
3.What if I go to a teacher for help and he demands sexual favors in return?

Can you imagine asking such ?s in the US? I got the chills even thinking about being burdened with such concerns. Why are we so blessed back in the States as girls, women? I'm grateful and more inspired to empower girls here...

Dancing with the girls

Love and hope,
Tait