It's the Small Things

 

 

"When you travel, remember that a foreign country is not designed to make you comfortable.  It is designed to make its own people comfortable."  Clifton Fadiman

I don’t have to take the daladala to the orphanage that I’m volunteering for on this last leg of my journey.  It’s a relatively short walk, but who knows what I'll run into. 

This is my path.  I've run into cows, goats, chickens or all three on my way to the orphanage.  You can't tell here, but it's straight uphill from where I'm staying.

It’s not that very far from the orphanage I was volunteering at before the safari to the one I’m at now, but structurally the two are worlds apart.  Let me give you a snapshot of my typical day here:  in the morning, I “teach” a class of 16 kids between the ages of 3 ½ and 5 ½.  Most are toilet trained, some not so much.  We pray that there’s no rain for the afternoons.  If there is rain, I’m in a room full of kids between the ages of 1 ½ months and 5 ½ years.  Yes, they are all in the same room. 

The first thing the kids do in the morning is brush their teeth.  It's hard to get a good perspective of this in a photo because the room is so small.  All 16 are crowded into the bathroom and spit into a squat toilet.  You don't have to fight with them to brush since they consider the toothpaste to be pipi (candy).  They want to do it again and again.

Folks back home would have heart failure if they saw some of the antics that take place in a normal day here.  Yesterday Baracka decided to climb up on the cupboards (this is allowed and, in fact, the mamas use the countertop as a place for the older children at times to contain the chaos), but he decided to walk the ledge behind the cupboards!  Remember all floors here are concrete (including those in the home where I’m staying).  Then, Filipo decided to pile all the cushions on one chair in the “sitting area” and play Tarzan while flying onto the floor.  I can’t say that I am calm while all this is going on, but I noticed today that I wasn’t yelling “acha” (quit that) every two minutes as I did for the first couple of days.

Baracka.  He gets into all kinds of trouble, but I believe it's because he is really smart and is bored.  Although he gets into mischief most of the time, yesterday he was content to sit on my lap as the others played.  He is a Maasai - the only in the orphanage.

Another Hospital Experience

Yes, I had to go with two little ones to the hospital again, but this time it’s not the hospital experience itself that I want to remember, but one little guy:  Ebenezer (Benni).

Somehow Benni got a chunk taken out of his big toe.  No one seems to know how or when it happened, but the gash was the length and depth of his toe; the whole piece was just gone.  It had been uncovered and there was no sign that any kind of antiseptic had been used on it.

I took him into the examining room and the doctor ordered dressing and antibiotics.  The nurse had to debride the injury because it was so old.  She pulled on a string and asked me if it was from stitches.  Of course, it wasn’t.  She pulled on the string and out came all 2 plus inches of it, along with other pieces of dirt.  After she reopened the wound, she poured alcohol and iodine over Benni’s toe a number of times.  It was swimming in the stuff.

The reason I am retelling this story is that Benni didn’t flinch.  He held my hand and didn’t move through the whole ordeal.  I couldn’t help but wonder how does a 5 year old not move a muscle while undergoing such a treatment? It had to be a learned response taught by the many things he has felt and seen in his young life.

 

Ebenezer (Benni). I don't know how I managed to get a pic of him not smiling.  He usually is. 

(The other little one that went along to the hospital was Glory.  She had a “rash” all over her head and it has spread down her back since I arrived.  Diagnosis:  a fungus, which the doctor said was very contagious….)

Glory.  She is really shy when you first meet her, but has a great smile once she knows you.  Her father is the daytime guard at the volunteer complex.  The foundation supporting the orphanage has just given Baba Glory a microloan to open a shoe repair "shop."  He has his stand in front of the complex.

The Universal Solution

One of the mama’s sandals fell apart and she was hobbling around using one of the children’s flip flops.  I decided we should try taping it together with the duct tape I had brought.  I wish I had a picture of all the children and mamas gathered around me as I tried to put it back together.  Now they are using duct tape to attach alphabet cards to the wall, along with everything else.  But here’s the best:  Franky, who is nearly 4, is almost never without his thumb in his mouth.  Emerte bandaged his entire thumb up with duct tape to keep him from sucking it!  But it worked – he never put his thumb in his mouth while the tape was on.

Franky

Emerte - she emigrated from Rwanda ("teacha")

Managing 26 Kids
I'm embarrassed when I look back on my reaction to how the kids were dressed when I first got here.  I remember thinking how hard is it to get girls' clothing on girls, boys' clothing on boys, and shoes that match?

But I soon learned that when you have this:

You tend to get this:

 

And this week I found myself putting mismatched shoes on Neema:

Lining up for their haircut, but you should have seen me flinch when the razor came out to trim their cuticles.

Pics of some of the kids

Faraja.

Irene-look at those cheeks-she's such a happy little thing (as are most all of the kids)

 

 

Isaac - he always has a smile on his face.  He'll sing "asante, asante" (thanks you) over and over.

Baracka (he's the third Baracka we have).  Don't you like the haircut? He has a twin sister.  We have two sets of twins currently.

Shujaa (meaning Hero).  He is a sweetheart.  He sat by me feeding a doll for almost an hour.  I was caring for the infants while the older kids were playing outside.

 









  

 

Toto, We’re Not in Sakina Anymore!

“If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay at home.”  James Michener

I have decided to write about the last leg of my journey prior to journalling the safari itself since it will take me quite a while to go through the thousands of photos from the safari and it may not happen until after I return home.  Suffice it to say that we had an incredible time.  Safari Infinity helped me plan a safari that provided a great mix of cultural experiences with the many exceptional game drives.  (My advice to those planning their trip:  do not skip the cultural activities!)  We stayed at fantastic places and met some unforgettable people, including Kelly, our guide and, as I have said, our friend.  He proved to be the ideal match for us.  I will be working on a proper trip report as my stay here continues, but I’d like to write about my final volunteering stay while I am still here. 

I knew this part of my journey would be different than my stay with Mama Liz, but I didn’t know just how different.   I thought I was staying in USA River (it’s pronounced “oosa”, not U.S.A. River, as I initially thought), but I am in the village of Nkoaranga, which is about 5 km from the main road on Mount Meru. There is a tarmac road leading into the village, but dirt roads and lanes otherwise.  There are no Sakina bars or grocers, only shop fronts with the same items repeated over and over with much that is unavailable, including the Internet.  Phone service is out much of the time, as is electricity.

I am at a home stay again with a wonderful family:  Baba Gertrude (Jeremiah), Mama Gertrude (Tumaini, meaning Hope), Gertrude (5yo) and Gad (pronounced “Gaddy”) (2yo).  For those unfamiliar with Tanzanian ways, it is common for the mother and father to be known by the name of one of their children, usually the first born.  I know that they are prosperous by village and Tanzanian standards, but the gulf between them and what I am familiar with couldn't be greater.  

Gertrude & Gad

First Experiences

I have been here only a few days, but from the start, the family has treated me as part of their family.  On the first day, Baba Gertrude took me for walk so that I could learn, as he terms it, their “environment.”  We have one quite pregnant cow, Daisy, bee hives, and about 10 chickens (30 recently died from some disease).  They have some banana trees on a fairly large piece of property for the village, but Mama Gertrude cooks on 3 open fired burners, only had one knife before I got here, and Gad had only one small toy.  When I helped Gertrude with her homework the first night, she was writing with a pencil that was no more than one inch long. 

Despite their limited resources, Gertrude goes to private school because, as Baba Gertrude explained to me, education means everything.  But they can’t afford transport so Gertrude waits for the older students to finish their day; consequently, she leaves well before 6:00AM and returns at 5:30PM. 

Baba Gertrude was raised by a single mother and only went as far as the equivalent of 7^th grade.  He has only recently met his father.  His mother came to meet “their guest” on my arrival and I’ve been to her home.  One of the Sundays that I am here, we are going to visit Mama Gertrude’s family so that I can know them.   They have really welcomed me into their family and are doing everything to make me feel included in every part of it – it really is very special.

Stories from my First Saturday

Mama Gertrude invited me to accompany her to visit a cousin, who had given birth to a daughter about a month ago.  She asked my opinion on what to take as a gift.  I hadn’t a clue (her response whenever I say “I don’t know” is always “it is you and me and we must decide”), but when we went to the grocer I realized how clueless I really was.  She asked whether she should get sugar or noodles (we got both).  We also got laundry detergent. 

We took a “taxi” down the mountain, which was a car, smaller than a Prius, with the back seat’s back removed.  It would never have been permitted on the roads back home.  Like the daladala, it doesn’t go until full.  In this case, we had 10 persons, including the driver, in the car and, believe it or not, the fellow behind me had a rooster under his arm!

 

When we arrived at the cousin’s, a series of folks came in and out of the room to welcome us.  I don’t know who they all were (and after we left, I found that Mama Gertrude didn’t either).  For a period, the two of us were left in the room alone and then her uncle came in to ask what type of soda I wanted.  Again, I hadn’t a clue what to say, but ended up saying a Fanta.  As it turned out, I could have said anything since someone was sent down the mountain to get it.  So we were served French toast and Fanta.  (Some reading this will know that French toast is one of my favorites.  It’s not served with syrup here, but is really quite good even at 3:00PM).

Of the many folks I met at the home, there was one I particularly want to remember:  Damien.  He was in the third grade and a wonderful young man.  He had a friend over.  When Damien came into the room, he came over and greeted me.  His friend followed and muttered something.  Damien scolded him and told me “he has not greeted you properly.”  The three of us ended up watching TV together as the others chatted.  Picture this for a disconnect:  watching Nigerian Idol, eating French toast and drinking Fanta, while someone sang a Cyndi Lauper song.

When Mama Gertrude and I left, Damien was in another room.  He ran out onto the porch as we reached the gate and yelled “Chris, Chris, good-bye.”  If only I could always remember the way he said “Chris,” he sort of rolled the “r.”  While trying to live in the moment here, I find that I wish I could always have a tape recorder, as well as a camera with me.  (BTW, I asked Mama Gertrude who Damien was after we left and she had no idea).

This is the DVD store front & butcher across the street from us (I'll have to get a better picture)

Views from the street

Children from "next door" (their home has no electricity or running water)

These pics aren't very good - not sure why.  I'll get some more.  I don't want to delay posting this any longer.  As it is, I wrote it a week ago, but just now got enough of a signal to post it.

An Incredible 10 Days! (May 12, 2014)

(This entry was written about May 12, but I discovered today (July 12) that the pics had disappeared.  When I went in to try and fix it, the date of the entry went to July.  I'm not good at this blogging thing and I didn't know how to fix it so I'm putting it with the June entry so they stay in some kind of order.  I've tried to fix the pics as well as I could without redoing the whole darned thing.  I wasn't able to save the comments, but I read them.  Thanks.  And sorry for this confusion.  Perhaps after a few more trips I'll get this blogging thing down).

My First View of Tanzania

I can't think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything.  Suddenly you are five years old again.  You can't read anything, you have only the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can't reliably cross the street without endangering your life.  Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.  Bill Bryson

This pretty well sums up these last 10 days!  I won't do a day by day description, but will try and impart some of my feelings and experiences.

Flight and Arrival:  Ethiopian Airlines ended up being a great experience (6 course meal, including Ethiopian fare.  It was very good), but I was lucky enough to be flying business due to FF miles.  On arrival at Kilimanjaro, I was asked for a YF certificate.  I told the gentleman I was coming from the US and he waved me on.  (I did have a YF waiver).

I arrived at my homestay.  It hasn't turned out exactly as I envisioned - a bit more dorm-like than I had hoped.  Obviously unlike the homes of a vast majority of the Tanzanian population.







In the yard

The Mama won't let me take her picture - she said "I look rough" when I asked, but has promised me a picture before I leave.  She refuses to call me Chris - it's Christine.

It's not easy to take photos here.  I will try and get a few of my area before I leave, but until then, I'll describe the area.  We are on a main road.  Within what would be two American blocks, we have a cement "factory" making cinder blocks by the side of the road; an iron repair shop - they are repairing ornate gates, bringing them back to their original condition; and a Maasai gentleman, who repairs bicycles 7 days a week under a tree.  (He told me his success rate is "50-50," but having seen his work I think he was being modest).  (He and a guard up the street have been trying to teach me a new Swahili word everyday).  Two car "washes," they use the water from the stream beside our house.  The cars sparkle when they are done.  Goats and dogs are around.  The bar next door is said to have some of the best barbequed chicken in the area.  In the early afternoon, the chickens are still in their cages in front.  (One day my roommate and I went for a beer.  They quit using the "hatchet" while we were there).  There are a couple of barber shops.  One does manicures and pedicures - dare I try? There's much, much more.  Both the cement factory and iron repair shop are along the side of the road out of little holes in the wall so to speak. There is always music.  It may be from a mosque or one of the other many churches we have in the area or just someone playing music.  For those familiar with Arusha I am in the Sakina area.

First few days:  Well, the saying that "This Is Africa" (TIA) came to life on my first day.  We were scheduled to have orientation, but someone forgot.  It did allow additional time to adjust.

Daladalas:  It's hard to explain this transport.  A daladala is a 16 person van that always has room for one more.  I think the fullest one I've been on had 26 people on it, not including two babies, a chair, and bushels of vegetables from the market.  I take two dalas to get to my placement.  The total time varies between 75 minutes to 2 hours - just depending - at a total cost of 62.5 cents each way.  They are extremely competitive to get riders.  I have had two kondas (conductors) pulling at me, one from each side, arguing between themselves on which dala I was going to use.  They do not run on a schedule, but you never have to wait very long for one to arrive.  They blow their horns and pound on the side the entire ride.  Sometimes there is music playing inside.  One time I got on and said to myself that is nice music.  Trouble was they played the same song the entire hour!

Some of my Daladala Experiences: 

First day as we were trying to board, I felt something and looked down to see a man unzipping the pocket of my purse.  I slapped his hand and he took off.  (I don't carry anything of value.  He would have been disappointed with some crackers.)

One of the daladalas I was on cut off another.  Well, the second didn't look kindly on this, sped up, passed us and then promptly backed into our fender, yelling all the way.

On another occasion there was another accident between the one I was on and another.  This one was more serious, resulting in the occupants of both vehicles standing along the side of the road as the drivers negotiated a settlement.

Yesterday I was coming home and a very old Maasai Mama was on the dala.  She talked a mile a minute to me, always with a broad toothless smile.  A woman next to me translated part of it for me and said the Mama liked me and thought I was beautiful  She was beautiful.  I hope to never forget her face.

Most of the time I think we mzungos (white persons) provide a bit of comic relief to the locals.

The People:  The people are beautiful and most are delighted to say hello.  They go out of their way to try to be helpful even though we haven't a clue what the other is saying.

Simon of EASTCO has gone out of his way to help me and make me feel welcome.  He and Bernard took me around and pointed out things in my neighborhood.  I was also lucky enough to have dinner another day at Simon's home with his "family."  I had the best cooking thus far on my stay:  homemade pita, fried bananas, banana and beef stew, and pancakes with ice cream. 

My Placement:  Now, to the best part of my trip thus far.  As most of you know, I came to work with infants.  I was placed with Cradle of Love orphanage.  When I arrived the infants were quarantined due to an infection that was spreading so I spent my first day with the "Crawlers."  I fell in love with them and never left.

All except one were abandoned.  Here are some of them:





Wheatness



:

Godbless-he was found in a storm drain

Gift (pronounced Gifty):  my special man



Vanessa, followed by Edgar and Charlie.  Queen Esther is last, the youngest of the Crawlers.





There aren't any pictures yet of me with the brood.  Most of the time it is because I look a little "rough."  One day I went around the corner and Gifty was trying to get to me.  Somehow his crib opened and he fell on the tile floor.  I was covered with blood after running to get him.  He had cut his lip and gum open and cracked a tooth.  Another day Godbless was given some medicine for a cough.  He promptly ran to me (I was sitting on the floor) and vomited on me from shoulder to ankle.  Poor little guy.  But later he was giving me his belly laugh.

It's remarkable how pleasant these little ones are.  I brought them some bubbles and they thought it was magic. 

The nannies try their utmost for the kids.  Their techniques don't jive with some of ours, but they care about what they are doing.  If nothing else, I know that I am being a help to them.

I come home exhausted every day, which is why I have been slow writing on the blog, but it's all okay. 

Oh, and there is a family of monkeys outside of our window.  One of these days I hope to have a camera handy and not have kids crawling over me so I can get a picture.



I Haven't Vanished! (May 19, 2014)

Trying to keep the blog up has been a series of miscues.   I expected some issues in attempting a blog from here, but thought they would be as a result of my limited technical ability, not the case.  First, my computer ran into major issues the week before safari.  Thanks to Kelly, our guide for the safari and a real friend, I got it up and running the day that Dick arrived, but programs were lost and it needs further repair when I get home.   Then the issue was lack of Internet connection and time while on safari.  This forced me to keep some notes the old-fashioned way.  We are now back from safari, Dick has returned home, and I’m at my second home stay.  Before I talk about either the safari or the final leg of my journey, I’ll update what happened the last week of my first volunteer experience with the Crawlers.

“You either get the point of Africa or you don’t.  What draws you back year after year is that it’s like seeing the world with its lid off.”  A.A.Gill

This was written on the last day of my TVE (Tanzania Volunteer Experience) home stay.  It’s organized by some of the experiences or thoughts of the week.  I’m trying hard to live in the moment while here.  The result is I could go on and on about little things that have happened, I’ve just chosen a few.

Welcomes:  The Tanzanian people are some of the most welcoming people you could ever meet.  No matter where you are or who you meet the first word out of their mouth nine times out of ten is Karibu.  Karibu means “you are welcome.”  But two of my welcomes this week brought tears to my eyes.

On Monday, as I came down the path to the room housing my little Crawlers, the nannies happened to be on the porch.  When they saw me, they cheered and ran to hug me.  I know there are those that doubt the contribution that volunteers make in this world, but I know that no matter how small, I have helped the nannies.  They really love the little ones and were able to spend additional time with them while I was there. 

Asia-One of my favorites

On Tuesday, when I arrived the kids were in their table chairs waiting to be fed.  As I came in the room, without encouragement from anyone , they all started pounding on the table.  They each had grins and bright eyes.  How can you help not feeling happy and lucky for the opportunity of being there?

Just as I want to remember the welcomes, I want to remember the feelings I had as I left my Crawlers on the final day.  Even now, typing this several weeks later, remembering brings tears to my eyes.  I intend to go back to see my group, but the reality is that I will probably go and not be able to find out what happened to one of them.  Leaving them and not knowing where or how they will end up is difficult.  I have to hope and pray that the smiles and confidence I see in each of them helps them along their way.

Death:  Mama Liz (my first house mother) had two experiences with death while I was with her.  The first was of a cousin, 23 years old, who was hit by a tractor trailer as he crossed the highway.  And then on my last Saturday with Mama Liz, five persons were killed in a car crash not far from Mama Liz’s home  (three of the same family).  She was close friends to all of them.  Mama Liz’s reaction to the deaths in both cases:  “This is life.”  Life here is not experienced as we do in western cultures.  They seem to celebrate each moment, perhaps because the end can come so suddenly and frequently here.

New Abandonments:  A baby was found at the gate of the orphanage.  She had already died.  It is unknown whether she died of natural causes or from exposure during the night.

A little one, who was named Hawa, was left with the orphanage.   She is the first Muslim at the orphanage.  She was so distraught initially, but by Friday she was smiling at me.  I just wonder how they can adapt so quickly.

Hawa on Arrival



Hawa after 2 Days (there was a remarkable difference)

Healthcare:  On Monday I went with one of the nannies to take Godbless and Gifty to the “hospital.”  We had to take the daladala, each of us carrying one of the babies.  There certainly were some puzzled looks at this muzungo carrying Godbless.

We had to stop by a stationer’s to buy a composition pad for each baby before we could go to the hospital.  These simple pads are supposed to be taken on each medical appointment (precursor to central recordkeeping?).  The problem in the case of an orphanage and I imagine in regular homes is that the pad can’t be found in the rush to get medical care, so a new one is bought for each visit.

When we arrived at the hospital there was an open area with at least 30 persons there.  To me there seemed to be no order.  Although I never could figure out the system, somehow it worked.  I was sitting there for about 45 minutes and without warning the nanny yelled for me to go in, “you must speak for Godbless.”  This was the first I heard that I would take him in alone.  But in I ran with him.  I met with the doctor and told him the symptoms, nervous the entire time that I would forget or didn’t know something important (I hadn’t seen him for about 36 hours before we rushed out of the orphanage).  Although Goddy was hot, no temperature was taken.  A blood test and urine culture were ordered (malaria was suspected, as is the case in almost all instances of general illness).

I then went with Godbless to the laboratory.  There I met with a nurse – picture a drill sergeant.  She took a blood sample and then told me to get a urine sample.  I asked her how.  Remember Goddy is less than a year and not toilet trained.  She screamed at me “if you are afraid to get it!”  I kept saying that I’m not afraid just tell me how.  This back and forth continued until she finally screamed for the other nanny to come in.  After some back and forth between the two of them in Swahili, it was decided that we would get the urine sample back at the orphanage and bring it the next day.  The nurse then tried to snatch the specimen container back from me.  I wouldn’t give it up, explaining there was nothing to put it in at the orphanage.  To say she was angry is a bit of an understatement, and if it hadn’t been under such stress it would have been a comical scene:  her yelling at me and me not having a clue what she was saying and me answering right back.  The nanny finally interceded and told her that I wasn’t  going to give the container back until I returned with the urine.

I am told that this system works and though I was never able to figure things out, we did leave with papers and got some medicine at the pharmacy.  It never was determined what Godbless and Gifty had, but when I left the orphanage, they were almost back to their wonderful selves.

Shopping:  On one of our shopping excursions we had to go to the pharmacy for a list of things needed in another orphanage.  When we got there the pharmacist didn’t have what was on the list.  The next thing we knew, he was getting out from behind his desk and leading us down several back alleys (I am not exaggerating this, they were “back alleys.”)  Finally we were on another main street and he led us to another pharmacy.  He stayed with us until we got sorted out with the new pharmacist what we needed and then led us back to the first pharmacy.  It was such an incredible experience and though I can’t paint a great picture of it, I do want to remember it.

Another Daladala story:  On one of my last rides back to Mama Liz’s I got on a packed dala.  I got a seat in the first row.  (Frequently the local folks would point out one of the better seats to me when I got on or after someone exited.  They might be uncomfortable themselves, but they recognized how foreign this experience was to me and it was natural for many of them to go out of their way to make me more comfortable).  A few stops after I got on, a young man got on with three 5-gallon buckets filled with what looked like sand or cement mix.  He stood by the door with his stacked buckets.  A few stops later in comes a gentleman with a rooster in a plastic bag.  How I wish I had a film of what happened through the next series of stops.  At each one, the gentleman with the rooster, and the fellow with the buckets, including the buckets, had to get off the dala to let others exit and enter. We were almost to town when the konda got off and left.  He went behind a car because he had “to go.”  Afterwards, he got back on the dala and we proceeded.  Problem was he forgot to put the cement buckets back on the dala and we had to stop again while they ran back to retrieve the buckets.

I could go on and on with my experiences while with the first orphanage and staying in Sakina, but here are some photos of that part of my stay because it’s impossible to recreate it all although I hope I remember each and every one.





Edgar's Bibi (Grandma) Comes to Visit



Mount Meru from Front Yard of Mama Liz's



From Window of Orphanage

Terrible Pic of Me with some Wonderful Kids