Bits and pieces

The place where we are staying, Hurume Baptist Center (actually isn't owned by Baptist anymore but they haven't done anything about replacing the sign), is also home to the Spring Valley Girls Secondary School. Secondary is basically high school so there are 150 girls from the age of 14 to 17 living and going to school here. They are hilarious to watch - and listen to. Nothing is spoken below a shout and no one is too far away to talk to. No inside voices. There are usually two or three of them wandering around together ('the wolf pack') laughing and saying "Wewe!" (you) in a tone similar to how we would say "you crazy!" except that it's a bit more high pitched and shouted. Even though they act like young girls, laughing and goofing off, they look older, more responsible. They've probably been taking care of their younger siblings since they were old enough to walk. Many families in Iringa are set up so Father is working (or at least away from the house), Mother is working around the house and/or running a small duka (shop) outside the house, and the kids are taking care of each other- the other day I passed a girl no older than 4 or 5 and she had her younger sibling, who looked like a newborn, slung across her back.
The girls at the Spring Valley School are in charge of things like cleaning the common dining area or hauling buckets of water from the rain barrel to their bathrooms. They walk across the grass, chattering away, with buckets full of water balanced on their heads. I want to learn to do that too! It's so practical- once you figure out balance and finally trust yourself. Once in a while we'll hear them when they're in their classrooms singing (especially after dinner) or cracking up about something. And recently they’ve taken to dressing in jumpsuits, singing, and running one grueling lap around the compound, the frontrunners lying on the ground every 20 yards to wait for the stragglers who like to speedwalk. It's fun to have them around- they're a constant source of entertainment. In the afternoons they have a break and visit Bibi Candy's duka. Candy doesn't have too much stuff in there - packets of cookies or juice - but sometimes she'll be making chips and eggs and in the mornings she fries up bunches of maandazi. Maandazi are like doughnut holes but larger and not sweet. Well, there is a little sweetness but mostly it's just a crispy outside covering a warm doughy center. I think about my mom every time I have them because I know how much she loves doughnuts, or just bread in general:) They are so good and the ones here are the best I've tasted so far. At 5 cents apiece it's easy to buy a bunch but hard to finish them all…and then feel sick. Munching on maandazi is a great way to break up the morning Swahili lessons- which are going really well. I've been in class for 18 days and I've learned a ton. I think that by the next Tuesday, when we’re off to Rufiji, I'll have a grasp on the language and it'll only get better in Mtanza. I'm glad that I've taken this course, even if just to get the basics before going somewhere I won't be able to speak English. Learning a language is interesting- you'll go through the day's lesson and understand what you're being taught and then you try to practice on your own and realize you don't have the vocabulary to complete a decent sentence. So far my sentences have been Swahili littered with English nouns (and half the time if you throw an 'e' on the end, it'll be the Swahili equivalent, especially if it’s a new technology of some sort). It's also fun to finally be able to catch part of a Kiswahili conversation and understand the gist of what they're talking about.

Hurume Baptist Center is about a mile from the town center and the road goes through houses and small shops. Daladalas race down the road throwing up dust (or mud as was the case for the first three weeks of the month, when it didn’t stop raining) and laying on the horn. Coming from town, they often cut the engine and coast, holding onto the overworked door to make sure it doesn’t fall into the gutter…or onto a child carrying a baby. There are two little calves that are always picketed on the side of the road- one white and brown, and the other the reddish brown. Nick has decided that he wants to adopt the reddish brown one because she's the prettiest cow he's ever seen. And I agree with him, she is a pretty cow, but I think we should start with a dog first! Once we get closer to town, the groups of kids start giggling and if one is brave enough they'll yell 'Wazungu', meaning 'white people' (or something of the sort – we’ve also heard it derives from something meaning “person who wanders overseeing plantation workers i.e. slaves) and then all the rest of them will chime in. They don't just say it once, either. It turns into a kind of song and can continue long after you've passed. I think it's funny, and kind of cute. If it gets annoying (with older children or, yes, adult men) Nick will sometimes ask, ‘Nini?’ (What?) or respond, 'Wafrica' (Africans). The older ones look confused, and the little ones usually get really quiet and then start cracking up. Or you just greet them in Kiswahili and they get confused that you know the language and hush up. Sometimes we'll get a 'Good aftanoon, SIR' (and it could really be morning or evening but it doesn't matter) or a 'Teacha!'. Many of the younger kids will greet us with 'Shikamoo' which is a respectful greeting reserved for your elders and is responded to with 'Marahaba'. I don't really know what the translation is- I don't think there is an English equivalent. I like saying 'Shikamoo' to the older people, especially the women, because their faces light up and it's as though you've unlocked a door. They are surprised that you know the word, much less use it—and it feels that because you have, you become respected, as well.

The market in Iringa is constantly bustling and there are tables and tables of fruits, vegetables, and dried fish. A while back we went to buy ingredients for guacamole. After talking to my dad about his upcoming week in Mexico, I had a sudden urge for Mexican food. Avocados are just now in season and they are huge- the size of a softball, maybe a bit larger. We were able to find ripe avocados, tomatoes, onion, and limes. Perfect! Just smushed it up and added a bit of salt and it went wonderfully with our dinner. My craving was curbed- although now a margarita is sounding pretty darn good, too...

Recently we went on a safari to Ruaha National Park! It was so cool. It’s the rainy season so the park was lusciously green. We were told that during the dry season (after May) there is no grass and most of the trees drop their leaves. That’s best time to look for large animals because they all congregate around the river or watering holes. Still, this time, we saw tons of zebra, giraffes, elephants (even a teeny tiny baby one), kudu, hippos, and lions. The bird watching was amazing too. So many different species- and all so colorful- it was hard to keep your attention on any one thing. Ruaha is the largest national park in Tanzania and has mountains as well as flatter grassland areas. The river is fast flowing and muddy- it actually flows into the Rufiji River, where we are going to be in two weeks. There’s been so much rain here the past couple weeks that the Ruaha River was overflowing its banks and parts of the road had already been washed out. These things aren’t expected until next month so it’s kind of catching everyone by surprise.

On our evening drive, we went up one road looking for lions and were standing up out of the pop-top roof when we came around a corner and not 10 feet from the side of the road was a female lion lying on the grass. The driver didn’t see her but because the road was a bit sunken down, the lion seemed to be almost eye level with me but all I could do was point and say ‘Ahhhh, stop!’. She didn’t even move once we sidled up next to her. Her golden eyes just watched us and any time someone made a move her eyes would get even larger and she would lift her head. Even though I had expected some of the animals to be habituated to cars and humans, I really didn’t expect this. Because of her lack of concern, we think that she might have been hurt (we did notice a small wound on her shoulder) or just plain exhausted from a hunt. We spent quite a while around her and as we were leaving, Nick saw two lion cubs peaking over a rock behind the mom so of course we slammed on the brakes and sat watching the cubs. They were young enough to still be curious of us and kept watching us as they played and posed on nearby rocks!

The park is also home to about 100 wild dogs who are further from the main safari-ing area… maybe we’ll be able to go back and see if we can find them. Nick’s on a mission. We stayed in green metal bandas right next to the river and were woken up at night by passing hippos. We met the misty morning early for a sunrise game drive. The colors were amazing and we came upon bunches of baby lions. There were no parents in sight. One set of cubs was playing on the rocks and a second group of five was lined up on a flat rock intently watching us. We got quite close to these five too and at first they were curious and then slowly, one by one, put their heads down and closed their eyes (see picture). There were zebras all over the place and most of the time they were around giraffes or eland antelope. Our guide told us that the giraffe was chosen as the Tanzanian mascot because ‘they are polite’. Even though they look odd with their long necks and plump eyelashes, they are so graceful. We frightened a couple hippos who quickly took off toward the river, their little legs carrying massive bodies and heads. We pulled beside a retired male lion next to the river who began to roar when we were out of sight. All in all, Ruaha is an amazing place and highly recommended—and we only saw a tiny eastern sliver of the park. Our Land Rover broke down on the way back. The fuel filter was leaking, and so we sat at an angle on a hill for a while waiting for a goop to harden to the filter so that diesel could make it to the engine. One of our safari guys, David, hitched a ride to the next town to arrange for a taxi, and just when he got there about an hour later, the car fired up and we proceeded to travel top-speed to make up time and acquire mobile service to call David. So it goes on these roads…



Even if you were out of Tanzania or didn’t have access to a radio, newspaper, or television this month, you would be tipped off to the fact that President Bush visited here by some special garments found in town. Some women are walking the streets clad head to toe in special -edition ugly beige plaid fabric with George’s big head and silly grin haloed prominently on their butts by Tanzanian and American flags and Kiswahili and English messages of welcome. I tried to buy a shirt made out of this fabric, but was DENIED by one of the hundreds of seamstresses in Iringa, who said that she’s saving it to make herself clothes. I will find some in Dar. Guaranteed. And I will ultimately spill something on it at a party back in the states. President Bush should have been a goodwill ambassador to Africa. He loves it here—the dancing, the photo-ops, the Kiswahili greetings (he said “Vipi mambo” to a crowd in Arusha, assuring five hundred articles about it in the next two weeks and refreshing his positive African legacy). He has given a lot of money to Africa – though many are still quick to ask where that money is directed and how it is spent – and most seem to like him, except for those recently detained for plotting to blow something up (e.g. him) during his visit. And you can always find a guy or two at a bar who loves him for being so quick to fight. I don’t know exactly what to say about U.S.- Africa relations. There’s a lot of potential for investments in better infrastructure and public capacity, lots of resources to sustainably develop to fund education and health initiatives. And, at least in relatively stable countries like Tanzania, we’re likely to see quite a bit more attention of countries other than China (who is everywhere, buying up everything). Then again, Kenya was, up until December, a relatively stable country, and though some things are finally being signed in Nairobi, investors are surely doubting the long-term security of their investments and hitting the road. Either way, defining our collective role in Africa is a tough thing to do.

More when we get back from the first month in Mtanza! Best wishes to everyone. Oh, and we have news that just isn’t bloggable…we’re sure it’ll find its way to you soon.