running into 2006

*this is what I call creative farming-putting your baby under a little cloth for protection from the sun...just another day in manga (note tuscany landscape)*

I felt such a rush of freedom and joy this morning as I ran down a path not so trodden. What a view I had of the mountain ridge and acacia trees in the distance as I jogged along this skinny trail, passing goats, cows and chickens. I’ve enjoyed searching out new trails the past few weeks as I’ve been training for the February 26th Kilimanjaro Half-Marathon (the race starts in Moshi town and weaves through mountain villages and coffee farms under Kili). My runs usually cause at least a handful of village children to cry, as I may be the first mzungu (white person) some of them have ever seen. They don’t yet realize I’m human just like they are. The crying eruptions usually occur on the small trails where passersby don’t pass, as opposed to on the “main” dirt road where people bike and walk at all hours of the day either away from/towards the junction (where one can take the one vehicle leaving/arriving Manga), which also eventually leads into Makambako town (18 km east). On this “main” road, men bike by with huge loads of ulanzi (the bamboo wine I mentioned last time) that they sell in Makambako, while women are usually seen with buckets on their heads, heading towards/back from the river for water. Ah yes, gender roles.

Water’s been a serious problem of late. Rain is THE topic of conversation. “When will it come…I heard not until March…we will beg of God. Big and powerful God…” is a typical exchange I have at least five times a day. Needless to say, we’re all waiting patiently for the rains. People are beginning to worry as they subsist entirely on farming here, aside from the twelve teachers and medical staff. But even they are growing corn at their homes in small plots, as well as greens, etc. to feed their families.



Just yesterday, I asked my neighbor, Lida (above on left with adorable daughter Siana sporting new Xmas Big Bird sweatshirt), where I could find some greens to cook because I hadn’t had any for many days. She always knows just where to find food items, like which bibi (grandma) is selling what today, passing where, etc. However, for the first time, she was stumped because greens really aren’t growing at all these days because of the lack of rain. So, off we went, to a woman’s house to pick some of her wild greens in her yard. This special green is called matembele and is quite tasty sautéed with a little oil, garlic and onions. It’s essentially the leaves of the potato plant. And Voila our Sunday lunch: ugali (corn flour boiled in water), matembele and beans – a feast.

I had a strange thing happen last week as a stranger from a village miles away came to my house begging for help. His parents live here in Manga; so I guess he’d heard through them about the new white girl in town--thought he’d give it a try, and I can’t say I blame him. Ends up he wants to study mechanics and doesn’t have the money. What upset me was that he lied to Sara at my house, saying he came because “I have a problem with Furaha.” There was no problem—I had never seen him before in my life. Anyway, I informed him that I couldn’t help him and that I’m not here to give people money; rather, I’m a village health volunteer (I wanted to explain furthermore that mechanics has nothing to do with health, but...). He left, disappointed. A persistent fellow, he reappeared two days later, at around 7:30 pm, making all of my neighbors outraged. “What are you doing at this hour, visiting Furaha?” they said (along with the guard, who watches over my house, the nurses’ homes, as well as the health center). So we all stood there outside my house (even though he wanted to come inside--I refused) as he brought out a zawadi or gift – a bag of potatoes -- that his parents had farmed. He left saying he hoped I’d call him at the phone number he left.

My village leaders were not happy to learn about this incident (even advised me not to eat those potatoes-they may be poisoned, they said. Hmmm). They want me to give them information on happenings such as this earlier next time and I agree completely. I think they’re worried I’m going to be robbed like my neighbor, Becky (another PCV). It’s nice feeling protected, although I have to admit I feel a bit smothered at times. Everyone – not just government leaders – want to know where I’ve been (when I travel), where I’m going, what I’m doing ALL the time. People get upset if you don’t “bid them goodbye” (the direct translation of the verb, kuaga – yes, there is a word for this practice, so you see how embedded it is in the culture here), or in other words, let them know you’re leaving to go to---, to do---, for--- reason. I despise this practice—makes me feel suffocated. I feel much more comfortable just informing my neighbors, the two wonderful nurses, where/what I’m doing. I hope they will realize that in order to feel free and happy here, they need to adjust to my independent (American?) spirit.

It couldn’t be more different from the US where you can be a completely independent person, flying from one place to the next, without anyone caring where you’ve been or what you’re doing. I often miss being anonymous. I am like a mini-movie star here, which can be fun at times, but it becomes tiresome. I’m always being watched. Now, this of course, could have a positive side. Maybe my friends here in Manga may take up exercising or drinking more water after watching me, but we’ll see…wishful thinking perhaps?

*cookin bananas in arusha!*

Speaking of traveling, some of you may be wondering how Christmas was. Well, I decided to cut out Zanzibar as it just seemed like too much to pack into one trip, but I did reach Arusha, which was great. Being with my friend, Frida, and her warm family (and cute nieces who loved playing w/my hair) under Mt. Meru was such a treat. I’ll never forget taking the bumpy ride up to greet her bibi and babu. Frida’s family taught me how to greet them in Kimaasai, their local dialect (they are Maasai, but not the kind that wear red, or drink cow blood, but their ancestors did). This made for a big laugh. We had a good time decorating their tree (the first Christmas tree I’d seen), drinking a lot of chai ya maziwa (milky chai with fresh milk from their cows). The people living up north around Arusha (Wachagga/Wamaasai) are known for drinking a lot of milk, and eating a lot of cow meat and bananas. And that we did on Christmas Eve night. We ate a soup of banana and cow meat. Needless to say, I sorely missed the King Family traditional Christmas Eve. It was truly my first time since arriving here 6 months ago to truly feel homesick. Frida’s family couldn’t have been nicer, but there’s nothing like being with your kin and those comforts of home.



*nice in-depth look at a cow slaughter.yum!just one of the reasons why i'm a vegetarian!*

Christmas morning we woke for chai, boiled eggs and bread w/ butter. Thank you thank you Marilyn Borst, who had mailed me a Peachtree Presbyterian Christmas DVD--it saved me that morning. I played this DVD on Frida’s laptop to show her family what we do for Christmas. I got teary-eyed watching my church choir sing the traditional songs—something my family goes to see every Christmas Eve. It was nice to share a bit of our culture with my Tanzanian friends. Although at times I think we overdo Christmas in America, I realized I need a few basics—a Christmas tree and good ole Christmas songs. Lazima!

*frida and her sweet mom in the middle after church confirmation ceremony*

After chai, the whole Tomito family and I went to the Lutheran church where her niece, Clara, was to receive her confirmation certificate. These girls and boys were dressed to the nines! It was as if they were all going to get married, wearing make-up, tailored dresses and suits, and the finest jewelry. I had never seen anything like it. I was laughing to myself thinking about how little we do for confirmation in the US. I don’t even remember the ceremony. Maybe my Mom took me to Wendy’s afterwards?

*Frida's cute neice all dressed up, Clara*

Not this family. After the ceremony, all the confirmed kids got into cars to parade around Arusha town. We ended at the Uncle’s home for a huge shindig of eating, dancing, and of course, gift-giving. I think I drank 10 sodas. They were force-feeding/drinking me the whole time I was there which was so sweet. I laughed too, when one other white girl entered the party. When we saw each other, we both felt like we had to talk—such an odd phenomenon. And all the Tanzanians kept asking me, have you met your “sister” over there? She ended up being a very cool girl--from New England, and had married a Maasai she had met in America in school.

The following day, on the 26th, I bid farewell to the gracious Tomitos and headed into Arusha town. My friend, Kate, who’s a health volunteer from my training class, living in Singida, met me that night as she was passing through for her holiday travels. We had a wonderful time splurging on a good dinner out at a beautiful coffee plantation on the outskirts of town. We felt like such Peace Corps volunteers showing up on the 20 cent daladala (packed town van), as opposed to by taxi as all the other guests had arrived. We definitely looked out of place – a little dirty from gallanting around town all day, wearing clothes that hadn’t been washed nor pressed (ever), and sporting Chaco’s as our fine footwear. But how fun it was chatting it up with the Tanzanian staff in Swahili (all the guests were floored), having nice wine, and real grilled chicken! Heaven. All this—incredible ambience, a nice bottle of South African wine, grilled chicken and pesto pasta for the two of us for $30. And this was a HUGE splurge for us (remember we make $6/day). Nice deal, huh?

But the night was still young. As we moved on for banana splits (had to) at Arusha’s finest ice cream parlor, Moody’s, we ran into three other PCVs, Erik, Sean and Eileen. We had a great time catching up, trading stories, and talking until the wee hours. The next day, Kate left on the 6 am bus , but Erik and I decided to try and hike under Mt. Meru. So, we got on a daladala headed direction: mountain (after trying to visit the Tribunal building; apparently it’s closed for tours until the end of January—will have to return!).

*in arusha, “the Geneva of East Africa," at the Tribunal building*

Erik, another Master’s International student (meaning he also has to write a thesis, but his will center around forestry) had already visited the Forestry school under Meru where you are required to check in as a visitor. After way too much bureaucracy, we began our hike. This would be one of the most glorious days I’ve had here in Tanzania. First of all, the scenery was breathtaking—of the mountain, the gorge below, the diverse plant life, and birds soaring above. My favorite part though was passing the locals—all Maasai, so of course, I had to pull out my Kimaasai greetings. There were mamas and kids, all working in the fields, or carrying heavy loads of logs/water on their heads, walking to/from/near the trail. We even saw one boy about 50 m up a tree, cutting down branches for firewood. We made friends with Msee, a young boy taking care of his many brothers and sisters. He told us he might as well be an orphan because his dad was drunk all the time. There are so many resilient children like Msee here. It never ceases to amaze me. We shared our biscuits and water with him and enjoyed the view.



Around 4 pm, even though neither of us wanted to stop, we decided it’d be prudent to turn back. On our return, mamas kept whispering behind our backs, saying watachalewa or they’re going to be way too late to head back now. But we did, just as the sun was beginning to set. As we hiked back, the light reflecting off the mountain and the hills was like the icing on this cake of a day. The cherry on top was catching a free ride in a Jeep all the way into Arusha town. It was too good to be true.

The bus trip home was not quite as dreamy—never slept as we went out the night before, but I left the hotel with my bags at 4:30 am to catch 5 am bus going south, waited at the junction 6 hours later for 3 hours (where they said there’d be a bus straight back to Makambako – there wasn’t) until I saw a bus heading to Iringa (about 3 hours farther north than Makambako) and jumped on it. I was one of two people they let jump on there. Ffffew. I was afraid I’d have to sleep in that armpit junction town. Our bus arrived Iringa around 8:30 pm, where I luckily met up with other PCVs stuck in similar situations, so we were all able to split rooms together. The next morning, we headed to the infamous French toast “Hasty Tasty” for breakfast, and off I went for Makambako. That night, I stayed with the headmaster of the secondary school where I teach. It was really nice getting to know him and his wife better—solid people. They were so excited to learn how to cook pasta, so that was a treat to share. I left the next morning on my bike for home. Home at last. And boy was I ready for the quiet of Manga, and to see my sweet neighbors.

*the new health bulletin board at my primary school-about cleanliness and nutrition-in swahili.thanks to hil for colored paper!*

Since I’ve returned, I’ve been visiting the school headmasters, making a health bulletin board, preparing for the new school year (the primary school started Jan. 9 and secondary Jan. 16), and working on preparing a new schedule. I also had the opportunity to announce to my village leaders that with the help of friends from home (thank you all of you – you know who you are!), I would like to sponsor all the girls who passed secondary entrance exam, to continue with their studies until Form 4. In other words, these Manga girls will now be able to study for 4 straight years, tuition covered. They will cover uniform and other costs on their own. Everyone is ecstatic. I made sure to emphasize that this is NOT my money, but money from friends from home. The last thing I want them to think is that I have a lot of money. Peace Corps aims for us to live and work as the villagers do, so directly funding people is not looked highly upon because of perception. Having community contribution is preferred in all the work we do, but I’m hoping this will help boost my girls’ empowerment efforts.

These girls really have it rough. Educating girls just isn’t supported socially, especially among men, who dominate most aspects of Tanzanian life. Now, thanks to the generosity of my friends and family, these girls’ secondary education is guaranteed, which is a rarity. If you look at the lists of secondary students, 60 girls usually begin in Form 1 and then, that total number of girls begins to fade away. Four years later, the boys are all still there, but surprise-only 10 girls remain. This is due to many factors: pressure to return home to do housework (as perhaps more children are born, etc. but as their brothers or male counterparts continue with schooling), pregnancy (if you’re found to be pregnant, no more school for you; this is so unfair as the boys who impregnated them receive no punishment), sudden lack of funds, or parents’ plain refusal to support their daughters’ education. Needless to say, this was an exciting announcement and thanks again to those of you who made this possible. Manga is grateful.

Village leaders subsequently called a meeting of the girls and their parents, as well as the Ward Executive Officer. All the village leaders made a short speech of appreciation, following by my official announcement of the sponsorship. I had written about a 2-page speech in Kiswahili listing all the reasons why I find support of girls’ education to be crucial, touched up by my neighbor just before I left. Reading that speech that day felt so purpose-driven. So many fortunate events and outstanding people in my past had brought me to this very moment of girls empowerment—Palm Beach County T-ball, Tophat soccer, Westminster teachers, coaches, Camp Merrie-Woode counselors, and encouraging friends. Through them, I feel like I’ve been molded to do just this and I’m incredibly grateful. Being here, I often wonder why I deserved such an empowering childhood. American girls should feel blessed—their opportunities are remarkable.



It was sweet what the Manga leaders and parents said about my presence and what this gift would bring their girls. “Who knows?” one said, “maybe through communicating with your sponsor, you will have the opportunity to study in America one day.” One leader expounded that God created this day before all of us arrived on earth and that I was like their ‘angel sent by God.’ Although I clearly don’t deserve to be called an ‘angel,’ I was touched. To conclude the meeting, the parents shared 10 reasons why educating their girls is a positive thing. It was quite a moving ceremony. Last, we took this picture outside the meeting hall:


*girls top from left to right: Sophia, Aloizia, Diana, Upendo, Skolastika, Hongera, Zella; bottom from left to right: Leniki, Rahema, Joyce, Oliva, Shakuru, Nuru (not pictured: Venanzia, Devota, and Maria-pictured in next below)*

Two days later, the girls were invited to my house to write letters to their official sponsor. They each wrote about their families, interests, and dreams for the future. Their hobbies included activities such as carrying water from the river, collecting firewood, and farming tomatoes—just like mine when I was little. Right. Some did say they enjoyed reading and running but I think it was because those were my two personal examples. However, the next day, four of the girls showed up at my house to join my on my morning jog! This might just have to become a regular Sunday morning activity. They had a good time, and we were able to chat about their excitement about school starting the following day.

Their dreams for the future were to become a teacher (majority), a doctor, and a nun. That one for nun made my day. It’s probably that most want to become a teacher because that’s one of the few professions they’ve ever seen. There’s not much else here other than farming, so how would they know what career opportunities are out there! I’m already thinking about planning some sort of career day, to take these girls into town and have them shadow women in the workplace.

*a little pyramid in my backyard with the girls*

After they wrote their letters, they each got a soda--a huge treat here. Later, we danced, made a human pyramid, sang and traded songs from each of our cultures. While they sang church songs in perfect harmony, I ended up singing a lot of Merrie-woode songs and “Rise and Shine and Give God your Glory Glory.” It’s better than the “Row Row Row Your Boat” I performed with some friends at the primary school! What were we thinking?

Amanda, a fellow PCV and my closest neighbor arrived from her village, so we decided to venture on down to the funeral service going on down the path. Upon arrival, one of my good village friends, Josef, grabbed us and insisted that we greet the funeral-go-ers and also share some knowledge from our respective fields (me being health and Amanda being environment). Okay, we said. We were both in a happy-go-lucky mood, and walked confidently into to the midst of over 100 villagers eating ugali with their hands and older ones drinking pombe. Kids started to gather at our feet, while others just stared intently at the two new guests. We immediately broke into the Kibena greetings, Kamwene, Nogage?(Hi, how is everyone?) Smiles and cheers erupted among the crowd, and we were now welcome.

Josef then announced for everyone to quiet down so we could address the crowd. Amanda and I looked at each other, smiling. What are we doing? The best plan I have for moments like these (and they do arise often; at village weddings, funerals, fund-raising harambes, I am always asked to speak/perform something) is to just make a fool of myself, and dance/sing/speak like nobody’s watching…and that we did. I egged Amanda on to sing “Rise and Shine” with me for the second time that day. We were both laughing so hard we couldn’t even look at each other. Following this, she gave a lesson on the benefits of using chicken dung for fertilizer (vs. cow/goat) and I tried to encourage family planning/reducing the number of children so that each child could be educated/fed/clothed well. Just another day in the life of being a Peace Corps Volunteer. Love it! (hence a perfect example of feeling like a movie star-can be fun sometimes)

I’ve been flattered lately by certain old, wise men coming to my house, or approaching me about the “A-B-C” (A being Abstinence, B-Be Faithful to ONE Partner, and C-Condom) prevention lesson I gave on World AIDS Day, last December 1. “What should I do then if I have three wives,” one asked me sternly…“should I leave them and just choose one?” I advised this old mzee not to leave them as he had already birthed children with them, but that he should try to be tested in town for his sake and theirs. However, motivating villagers to go to be tested is a challenge. What for, they think. And then what will I do say I test positive? This same man returned a few days later to my house to “just learn” he said. We walked over to my world map on the wall in my main room and I showed him where Tanzania was, where I come from (see that star there-Atlanta), where Europe is (most people have at least heard of England, Germany, and maybe France), as well as the location of the oceans. He was mesmerized. It’s moments like these that I cherish.

Some of you have wondered if I live in/near a tribe. Yes, indeed. The people of Manga (and all around this area) are Wabena, which is why they speak Kibena (the dialect I mentioned I was learning when I first arrived). They have distinct Wabena characteristics like the Maasai (who speak KiMaasai) have their own attributes, such as jumping and drinking curdled milk and blood. However, Wabena people are known for their dancing to drums, doing a special butt shake that you have to see to believe (kids of both sexes start learning it early), as well as being incredibly hospitable, giving gifts like you wouldn’t believe to any visitor. And I can vouch for all of the above.

Here are some additional stories you all may get a kick out of:

• Nurses’ stories are always entertaining; they said recently one girl burned man w/ hot h20 b/c he had kicked her mom the day before. Also, there was a woman w/ a still birth who they couldn’t help—had to advise her to go to a real hospital. Consequently, this poor woman had to jump on a bike to continue 20 K to reach Makambako to then catch another ride (worth several months savings). Needless to say, there are no emergency trucks here-and certainly no 911 to call. When there is an emergency, villagers come a knocking at my two neighbors’ (the nurses’) doors-at any hour of the night, they are welcome.
• I get milk delivered 3 times/week from a boy a village away but lately it’s been spoiling in the heat. Every time I receive it, I have to boil it vigorously in the morning and at night. It usually stays fresh for a couple days-no fridge! It’s nice learning how to live without.
• I’ve refused to support one car whose driver took a girl home apparently (the rumor in the village). I can’t support this behavior if I’m here to empower girls! This kind-of thing happens all the time with drivers—they have money and are constantly moving from place to place, able to take advantage of young girls. Horrible.
• I counted 11 rats come out of my neighbor’s kitchen as we ate lunch on Sunday. Apparently, they’re attracted to corn, so you can imagine how many there are running around Manga! This by the way was right after one of her 25 chickens was found killing a snake. It’s like a zoo!
• Cooking spaghetti for friends. Imagine watching someone eat spaghetti in awe for the first time—so entertaining.

*nyota, my cute pup says thank you brother kingo for the UNC collar. my villagers don't understand it, or know what it is, but i gosh darn love it. go heels!*

I want to express my appreciation to all of you who sent Christmas cards, especially with pictures (Thomas,’ Hawkins,’ Stricklands,’ Borst Family, Alston and Ben Wise, Dyers,’ and Robin with her new husband, Mark!). And mom, thanks for the Santa Claus and stocking. It made my house more spirit-filled. However, describing who Santa is and how he comes on Christmas Eve was a bit of a struggle. I made a lot of villagers really confused. Ohhh, the things you never question in the States!

Happy New Year to all-take care,
Tait