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
1 comment:
Hi Tait,
I'm a student of Ms. Howard and I've been reading some of your posts and I think it's great that your keeping us updated with your trip. I have always wanted to visit Africa and it seems like you're enjoying it. Keep on updating us about your trip.
~Eric
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