TANZANIA

Tanzania: A Retrospection

2010-04-14T18:11:00.001+03:00

What a difference a year can make.

The months and days of the past year have passed in a flurry of activity, filled with important decisions and a myriad of changes, falling today on April 13, 2010. As I looked at the calendar this morning - ironically while drafting an email regarding The Carpenter’s Kids - I realized that today marked the one year anniversary of my homecoming from Tanzania. Though I recognized several weeks ago that the date was looming, the sudden reflection of those 365 days that passed so quickly and yet seemed years away left me awash with emotion. I felt deep nostalgia for the experience that was growing ever distant, pride for all I have accomplished in this year, and both joy and sadness for the triumphs and hardships I have encountered along the way. I was also bombarded with all the emotion that filled me on that day one year ago; the sound of my heartbeat in my ears and the nervous flutter in my stomach as the hours remaining until my long-awaited reunion gradually ticked by.

Several times today I looked at the clock, subconsciously noting my destination at that time one year ago as I flew from Amsterdam to Atlanta, finally touching ground on American soil around 1pm in the afternoon. I had imagined, awaited, and counted down to that day for much of my time in Tanzania, always longing for and missing the people I left behind, eager to once again be reunited and resume the intertwining of our lives. I had never been the type of person to get homesick, always relishing in the opportunity to get out and experience new things, even as a child scoffing at those whose cries for home had them being picked up from overnight slumber parties at an early hour. Though I had imagined eight months would be significantly more difficult than summer camp and the independent college life, I was in no way prepared for the ache I felt to return home.

Reflection of those feelings fills me with a combination of regret and sadness, wishing that I had paid less attention to the countdown of days, instead unabashedly delving into Dodoma life. Though I did greatly enjoy my time in Tanzania and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I now realize I was constantly distracted by the idea of home. I wonder now how my experience would have been different had I really let go, allowing my roots to be firmly planted in the rich, red, earth of eastern Africa.

Though those eight months were challenging, I can look back now, one year later, and truly appreciate all I was able to see, do, and learn. Retrospection is an interesting concept, often allowing you to gloss over the imperfections, remembering only the facets seemingly without flaw. I often have days like these, spent remembering and missing the shy smiles of our Carpenter’s Kids, the broken Kiswahili and English chatter in the office, and the wonderful relationships I formed and people I met along the way. Times like today, however, take me back to the raw emotion of those days, the frustrations Liz and I encountered with handling the office politics of two very different cultures, the constant and seemingly inescapable heat, the unreliable internet connection, and always the nagging longing for home. Though it might be nice to ward off these thoughts, remembering only all that was good and joyous, I am grateful for the ability to look back on my experience from both perspectives. I believe that in doing so I have been able to grow and learn, noting things I would do differently if given the chance.

Recently Bishop Mhogolo and Brian Atkins visited Grace Church, Gainesville, one of many stops along their travels to promote the work of The Carpenter’s Kids. It was almost surreal to encounter them here, as if a bit of Dodoma had been dropped right on my doorstep. While Bishop Mhogolo spoke during the education hour, a slideshow of my photos was projected behind him, depicting Tanzania’s gorgeous landscapes, the exotic animals I had encountered on various trips to Mikumi, and the striking faces of sweet Carpenter’s Kids and loving guardians. Though I have given several presentations of my own at parishes across the diocese since returning home, delving through my 10,000 photos in the attempt to find images to match my words, it was not until that day that I sat undistracted, letting the memories of Tanzania come rushing in. I was taken aback by the feelings of sudden nostalgia and an intense longing to return. It is hard to believe that one year has gone by, and I almost feel as if my grasp on the experience is slipping away with the days on the calendar. I long to go back there, to soak up the culture and to uncover the part of my heart that will always be buried in that place. I am so grateful and appreciative of the time I spent there, the people who brought joy and happiness into each day, and the lessons learned along the way. I will never forget them.

On May 1, merely weeks after returning home, my phone rang early in the morning, the caller ID displaying a strange number I did not recognize. My first instinct told me it was bad news, and yet I silenced the call, convincing myself it was a wrong number. Soon after a voicemail appeared, and upon replaying the message I heard Liz’s familiar voice, sharing the tragic news that one of our fellow missionaries had died. Saskia, a 28-year-old speech and language therapist from Holland, had been in Tanzania for nearly three years. She worked at a deaf school outside of Dodoma and was only weeks away from returning home. While riding her bike home one evening she was hit by a taxi, sustaining serious head injuries. She was rushed to the hospital, where Callum and Noel quickly met her. She died soon after, as others who had heard the news rushed to the hospital. I was instantly shocked, trying to grasp that this amazing, vivacious, girl I had bid goodbye at my farewell party only weeks before, was gone. Saskia was truly wonderful, always so optimistic and constantly with a smile on her face. I was also angry at the driver of the car who hit her, having witnessed the reckless driving habits on Dodoma’s streets. It was hard to imagine something of this magnitude occurring within Dodoma, and I truly felt for all those who were there during such a tragic time. I think of Saskia often, and it saddens me to think of all the life she wasn’t done living, and all the people who will miss out on knowing her. We were all so fortunate to be touched by her presence, and I have no doubt that she is missed every day.

Upon returning home last April I began restoring relationships, visiting friends, and catching up on all that had gone on in my absence. In many ways it felt like I had never been away, and I was thankful for that. My friends and family were for the most part unchanged, no drastic events had occurred since my departure, and I was almost able to slip right back into the rhythm of daily life. After Skype phone calls and hours upon hours of gmail chatting while I was away, I had mended a broken relationship, returning to put away my doubts and fall unheeded into deep, true love. The possibility of this new beginning and curiosity for what could lie ahead constituted much of the eagerness I harbored for returning home, and thus I couldn’t have been happier to have my wishes so seamlessly fulfilled.

I had been told by visitors to Tanzania that upon returning home I would experience a case of culture shock, and I had attempted to prepare myself. I was immediately struck by the sheer amount of resources and the aura of wealth that could be sensed at every corner, noting all that we take for granted and all that is wasted without a second thought. I spent some time working back at my old boutique, where the cost of one sundress was equivalent to the average yearly income in Tanzania. A year later I still find myself checking price tags and being repulsed by their numbers, when at one time I would have ignored them, thinking more of how I just couldn’t live without another pair of $150 jeans. “Need” versus “want” has taken on new significance in my life, and I try to always be grateful for even the smallest of blessings.

After much job searching, many “great resume, but no positions available” email responses, and much thought, I decided to return to school in August 2009 with a week to spare before the semester began. Though the medical field had always interested me, I deviated from the path during my freshman year at UGA, instead cultivating my creative side with a major in interior design. The economic situation combined with my brief exposure to the healthcare system of Tanzania led me to my decision to pursue a career in nursing. Eight months later I have nearly completed all of my prerequisite courses and have been accepted to the Medical College of Georgia’s Master of Science in Nursing program. I will spend sixteen months in Augusta, Georgia, and I am excited for a new chapter to begin. I can’t help but feel as if the past two semesters have been merely an intermission, a period of mundane sandwiched between the main events. I know that great things lie ahead, and I am curious to see what’s in store.

The past year has seen many changes, some good and some bad. I have made some momentous life choices, setting a path for the future and running towards it full force. I have found love and lost it, spending the last several months healing the wounds and searching for optimism. The Carpenter’s Kids has grown significantly, welcoming even more children into the loving arms of the Dodoma family. I have recognized the importance of family, of friends, and of finding a passion for something you love. I have realized that I miss Tanzania, and after counting down to my departure I now anticipate a return. I have learned that I, too, have grown and changed, and that living in the moment is often more important than constantly looking forward for what is to come.

Yes, what a difference a year can make.

The Beginning of the End

2009-03-28T17:39:00.004+03:00

It’s been nearly two months since I last posted an update, and it’s hard to believe that my time in Tanzania is now drawing to a close. One week from today I will be on a bus, making the journey from Dodoma to Dar es Salaam for the final time in my 8 month stay in Tanzania. These last few weeks have flown by, and the fact that I really am leaving hasn’t quite hit me yet. Yesterday was my final day in The Carpenter’s Kids office, and my anxiety about leaving the small, crowded, and sweltering office that I have enjoyed so much during my time here induced an onset of fever and infection! Though I am merely joking about anxiety causing these symptoms, I did indeed come down with something yesterday, and a 103 degree fever, a pounding headache, and an aching body made for quite a miserable last day. After urgings from my colleagues I finally went downstairs to Mackay House Medical Center for a Malaria test. A finger prick and a fifteen minute wait later, I discovered that I thankfully do not have Malaria. My test did reveal, however, that I was suffering from a case of Leukocytosis, or in laymen’s terms, an elevated white blood cell count. Though my fever stuck around for long enough this morning to keep me home from my last Carpenter’s Kids distribution, I think the extra rest has done some good. My fever is slowly dropping, and I hope to be back to normal soon.

The last couple of months have been fairly uneventful, which explains my lack of any recent postings. Work has continued as normal, and newsletters, emails, and putting together a Dodoma-based website for the program have filled my days. Parish distributions resumed at the beginning of March, and it was wonderful to be back in the villages and interacting with the children and their families. This last month or so has been spent tying up loose ends and training my replacement, New Zealander Scott Wheeler, who will be taking over my responsibilities at the beginning of the month. He been an avid learner and has amazing patience in dealing with my perfectionism and attention to detail, and I’m sure he’ll be relieved not to have me checking over his shoulder after I’m gone! (Photo: Showing Scott the ropes!) He already gets along great with the rest of the team, and he, Callum, and Noel make quite a dynamic trio. Poor Liz will be the only female in the office upon my departure, a fact which I don’t think she is too thrilled about. She frequently says that I really am not allowed to leave, swearing that she’s going to perform a raid on my house to steal my passport or inform the U.S. Embassy that I shouldn’t be allowed to leave Tanzania! Thus far, my passport is still in my possession….or so I think!

Other exciting news on The Carpenter’s Kids front is that my home parish of Grace Episcopal Church has joined the program! I received a call from my dad a few weeks ago after his reading of our most recent issue of the newsletter. He had learned that one parish in which the program had been implemented was not yet linked and expressed an interest in becoming their link parish. Myself and the rest of the staff were thrilled to hear the news, and Grace Church is now linked with Chifutuka, becoming the first parish in the Diocese of Atlanta to establish a link. Chifutuka joined the program in September of last year, and I was able to attend the distribution. I even mentioned the visit in a blog entry, as the children seemed as if they had never in their lives seen a mzungu. To this day I have not visited another parish like it, so it’s wonderful to be linked with a parish that I so clearly remember. Though I have always had plans to come back to visit Tanzania again in the future, the fact that I now have a link parish to visit makes the prospect even more exciting.

Though it was sad to see Maaike and Lianne leave Tanzania at the beginning of February, it was not long before others arrived on our compound to fill the void they left. Two young British girls named Charlotte and Leila arrived in early February, both of whom are 19. They graduated from high school in July and are taking a gap year before attending university in the fall, and their 11-week stay in Dodoma is just a start to their travels. After flying out of Dar es Salaam the same day as I do and returning home for nine days, they then depart on a three-month long traveling tour of Southeast Asia, Australia, New Zealand, Hawaii, and San Francisco. It sounds like an amazing trip and one that I am very jealous of! They have proved to be great company and a lot of fun, and they seem much older than their 19 years. We have spent many a night watching movies at Leane’s and hanging out on weekends. They have been teaching at CAMS during their time here, and their age has made them quite popular with the kids. The three of us will spend a few days in Dar es Salaam together next weekend before leaving Tanzania, and it will be nice to have their company in my final days. (Photo: Charlotte, Linda, & Leila)

Linda, another Brit in her late 20s, and Corietta, and 18-year-old from Holland have also moved into our compound and are teaching at CAMS. Linda is planning to stay for 2 years, while Corietta’s stay is about three months. Though I haven’t really had the opportunity to get to know Corietta in the few weeks she has been here, I am continually impressed by these young girls coming to Tanzania. Being here has been a definite challenge for me at 22, and I can’t imagine doing the same thing when I was 18! Maybe there’s just something about us Americans!

Though I haven’t really had so say any goodbyes yet, my first official goodbye party was held this past Thursday. Magi had arranged earlier in the week for a few people to go to her house for dinner as an informal farewell, but little did I know that there were more intricate plans developing! Magi, Callum, and I had spent all day in a village on Thursday observing a community health education program, and our late return to Dodoma meant that Magi would have little time to prepare. She made the executive decision that we would just go to the hotel instead, and said that she would return to pick me and Leane up a little while later. At 6:30, Magi, Laura, Callum, and Liz came to pick up Leane and I at our compound, and we headed into town. I was confused when we drove past the hotel and stopped outside of Rose’s Café, which was closed. Magi asked if I had ever eaten at the hotel next to Rose’s, and said she thought we’d give it a try, adding that last time only three people got sick! Despite her jesting, Magi headed down a side alley next to Rose’s. As we turned a corner I saw there was a long table set up outside and spotted Pastor Noah sitting at the table. The entire Carpenter’s Kids staff was there (even Willy, whose wife had a baby less than 24 hours before – which Liz and I named!), in addition to Sandy and Martin McCann. Not long thereafter, Bishop Mhogolo and his wife Irene arrived, Irene having just returned from a month in the U.S. the night before. Rose and her mom (the chef) had stayed open especially for the party, and they served us a huge meal of rice, naan bread, and either fish, beef, or chicken curry. This was followed by a cake that Rose had made, and I insisted that Liz indulge me by letting me perform a Tanzanian tradition. It is typical for the guest of honor at a party to feed cake to their guests, and everyone got a laugh out of Liz and I doing this! Magi served as MC for the night, reading off kind notes she had gathered from Carpenter’s Kids staff and friends in New York, Atlanta, and even a note from my parents. Liz bought several “Send Off” cards that were signed by the staff, and they also presented me with two kangas (pieces of traditional fabric). The whole night was a huge surprise, and I was very impressed they were able to keep it under wraps! I couldn’t imagine a better way to say goodbye than with my Carpenter’s Kids family, and the night was truly wonderful. (Photos: all the attendees & Magi and I with Rose and Mama Rose)

Other than a fun day-trip to Cetawico (an Italian-run winery about an hour outside of town) in February, a few more climbs up Lion Rock with Charlotte, Leila, and Linda, and usual work business, not much else has been happening in exciting Dodoma! My last couple weeks have been spent hanging out with Scott and Josh, an American from Michigan who works for the Mennonite Church here. Scott’s wife had to return to New Zealand for a few months, and he moved in next door to me upon her departure. He also bought himself a motorcycle (or “pikipiki” as they are called here), and quickly made friends with Josh, who also has a bike. Since then there has been a permanent mechanic shop outside of my door, and every afternoon the boys are outside working on their bikes. (See photo!) Spending so much time with them has also meant that I have the opportunity to ride around with them from time to time, and one Sunday afternoon we went on a four-hour ride through the beautiful Tanzanian countryside. We’ve also adapted quite a convenient routine for our evenings, as Scott and I will combine resources to make dinner, which either Josh or I usually cook. It’s been a bit of an adjustment to go from spending so much time with girls to being constantly surrounded by Scott and Josh, but we’ve had a great time!

As my departure grows ever nearer, I find myself with mixed emotions about going home. Excitement at seeing friends and family, joy for the wonderful experience I’ve been so fortunate to have, sadness at leaving so many great friends behind, and uncertainty for what lies ahead. It will be difficult to say goodbye to everyone this week, and I’m not sure that I know how. I feel I’ve grown up so much over these past 8 months, and I know that I’ve become a stronger person. This time has been challenging, enriching, heart-wrenching, and amazing all at the same time, and I’m so thankful that I had the opportunity to come here. As I told my friends and colleagues at my going away dinner, The Carpenter’s Kids and Tanzania have made themselves a permanent place in my heart, and I will not ever forget them. I have no doubt that I will return here in the future, and I hope that time isn’t too far away. My thousands of photos and blog entries will help me to remember the details that I may forget over time, but I will never forget the kindness and hospitality of the Tanzanian people, the smiles and laughs of our Carpenter’s Kids, or the stunning beauty and rugged appeal of this place. I will leave here with a full heart and fond memories of all I have done and seen, and with the knowledge that I have been forever changed.

Sarah's Holiday Vacation, Part 2: Doug & Judi Visit Tanzania!

2009-02-02T16:49:00.005+03:00

After parting ways with Maaike and Lianne in Stonetown, Liz and I took the ferry back to Dar es Salaam. We arrived at our intended hotel to find that they had no record of our reservation, and thus we searched the phonebook to find another place to stay. We decided to go to the Peacock Hotel, which is where many visitors to Dodoma stay upon their arrival in Dar. We knew it was above the price range we would normally spend, but once we entered the marbled lobby and saw our pleasant, air conditioned room we decided it was worth the cost! After a few hours of relaxing, Liz and I made our way to the airport about 11pm to pick up my parents. We waited outside, anxiously watching the arrivals screen to determine whether or not their flight had arrived. After about an hour of waiting we finally spotted them inside gathering their bags and making their way towards us. Needless to say, there were a few tears shed by my mom and I and some chuckling from Dad and Liz as they ridiculed us, but it was definitely a happy reunion for all! We gathered their bags and made our way to the waiting taxi for the ride back to the hotel, where we spent a few minutes catching up before I left them to get some rest after their long travels. I was glad they had arrived, and aside from a few missing earrings and an iPod that were stolen out of their checked luggage, they arrived safe, sound, and happy to be in Africa.

The next few days were spent in Dar es Salaam, and Dad probably got in a little more shopping than he bargained for! We visited Slipway, the modern Western-style shopping center, and enjoyed browsing through the stores. We also made our way through the intricate maze of craft sellers set up outside the main shopping center, picking up things here and there along the way. Leane, who was also in Dar after dropping off her son at the airport, met us for lunch, and it was nice to introduce my parents to my surrogate “mama”! The rest of our days in Dar were filled with a visit to Tinga Tinga alley to order a few more pairs of sandals from Clement, a trip to the National Museum, and of course visiting all the churches within the city center for dad. On New Year’s Eve (also Mom’s Birthday), we attended a celebration held by our hotel. Upon entering the room we were all given coconuts with straws and led to our table. A huge buffet of starters, main courses, and desserts were served, and we ate while watching the entertainment for the evening. Traditional Tanzanian dancers, a comic show, a balancing act, a fire-eater, and a live band performed throughout the night, right up to the countdown to midnight. As the New Year arrived, everyone in the room moved around, saying “Mwaka Mpya” (“Happy New Year”) and exchanging hand shakes. It was wonderful to be able to bring in the New Year with my parents, and we all realized what a special day it was.

The following day the four of us boarded yet another Scandinavia bus for the trip to Dodoma. Though I had warned my parents that it was not the most enjoyable of trips, they were seemingly surprised to find it wasn’t as bad as I made it out to be! (In my defense, I will admit that it was one of the more pleasant journeys I have made thus far.) My parents were both curious to see what Dodoma was like, especially after Dad read in the Lonely Planet guidebook that “There’s little reason to come to Dodoma, but if you find yourself here it’s not a bad place to spend a day or two. With it’s grandiose street layout and the imposing architecture of many church and government buildings – all sharply contrasting with the slow-paced reality of daily life – it’s easy to get the feeling that the town is dressed in clothes that are several sizes too big.” Despite these not-so-glamorous ravings, I was nevertheless excited to show them the place I’ve called home for the past 6 months. After arriving in Dodoma that evening, we dropped Liz at her compound and made our way up the road to my humble little home. Leane had continued her travels after meeting us in Dar es Salaam, and thus she had offered her apartment for my parents to stay in. Not only did this save us the expense of booking rooms at the Dodoma Hotel, but it also meant that my parents were only a few steps away, which proved to be extremely convenient. Since my house was devoid of anything to eat, we made our way to the Dodoma Hotel for dinner. On the way we passed a group of children wandering down the street, and they were all eager to greet us. I watched as each one of them waited their turn to shake my parents’ hands, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful for these sweet little children! It was a touching moment, and one which made me realize how happy I was to share my new adventures with them. For once I didn’t have my camera on hand, which I very much regretted! After returning home that evening, we all turned in early from the exhaustion of our long day and to rest up for the tour of Dodoma that was to come.

After we finally got ourselves up, dressed, and ready for the day, lunchtime was quickly approaching. I took this opportunity to introduce my parents to Rose’s Café and the wonderful Indian cooking that I’ve come to love during my time here. After enjoying yet another great meal, we set off to explore Dodoma. I pointed out Mackay House, the home of The Carpenter’s Kids office, walked them down One Way Street, lined on both sides with shops filled with a variety of goods pouring into the streets, and led them through the acrid scents of the Dodoma market. We filled up on produce for the beginnings of a home-cooked meal, after which we stopped by Super Dealer to stock up on the rest. Mnaze, the owner of the store, gave us a complimentary bottle of wine in celebration of my parents’ visit and we headed back home, our arms full of the day’s purchases. The three of us shared a nice dinner before crowding around my laptop to watch one of the new dvds they brought with them, and it was nice to be able to relax and enjoy their company.

The following morning I decided my parents needed to get the grand view of Dodoma, and thus we set off to climb Lion Rock. After reaching the hotel in town and spending five minutes trying to explain to a taxi driver where we wanted to go, I decided in my stubbornness that they were charging us too much. Thus, we set out on foot, thinking that we would just get in a bit more exercise by walking the whole way. I began to lead us towards Lion Rock which was visible in the distance, but after about 45 minutes of walking we realized that I had, in fact, taken the wrong road. We then had to hunt down a taxi and spend the next 10 minutes pointing to the hill in the distance, once again trying to explain where it was we wanted to go. Obviously, Tanzanians do not frequently ask for taxis to go to Lion Rock! So, finally, over an hour after leaving home, we arrived at the foot of Lion Rock and began to wind out way up the steep path. We stopped at various points along the way to take in the view, and finally made it to the summit. After enjoying the view at the top and fearing sunburn if we stayed much longer, we climbed back down and set off down the road in search of another taxi. We stopped in town to treat ourselves to ice cream, picked up some to take home, and walked for another 30 minutes before finally arriving back at the compound. Needless to say, we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around my house, our legs aching from all the walking we had done that day!

The following day was Sunday, and Pastor Noah had invited us to attend his church service at Chadulu. Liz accompanied my parents and me to the unfinished church building on the edge of town, and Dad vested up to participate in leading the service with Pastor Noah. The two of them made quite a distinct pair, and their height meant they towered above much of the congregation. Liz, Mom, and I each followed a reading in Swahili with one in English for the first and second readings and The Gospel, and Pastor Noah pointed out a few areas throughout the service which Dad was meant to read in Swahili. Though he had been practicing a few basic words here and there, some of the sentences were a bit much to handle and left him wondering whether he was even understood! (He thus spent the next few days trying to master these phrases.) Eventually it was time for us to introduce ourselves, and Pastor Noah helped translate my parents’ speeches. The congregation was extremely warm and welcoming, and my parents were presented with Masai robes as gifts. My dad had not come empty-handed, and he presented Pastor Noah with a vestment stole brought from the U.S. After Pastor Noah and my dad served communion to the congregation, blessed a youth choir entering in a competition, and several of the parish’s musical groups performed, the service was brought to a close. I always enjoy watching my father at work, but there was something special about watching him join with Pastor Noah to lead the service. After the service ended, Dad and Pastor Noah were surrounded by parishioners and children, and Dad entertained them by beating out a rhythm on one of the homemade drums, reminiscent of his days spent as drum major at Riverwood High School in Atlanta. Before leaving we stood to welcome the mile-long reception line and hand shakes that are a vital part of every church service in Tanzania, and the whole experience would not have been complete without it!

On Tuesday, Pastor Noah planned a special visit for us to Ndebwe, one of The Carpenter’s Kids villages. Since there were no distributions during their visit for my parents to attend, Pastor Noah kindly offered to organize a visit so that they could experience the work of the program. After driving for over an hour we arrived at the parish church, amazed to find that several hundred people were there to welcome us. The Carpenter’s Kids, the program committee members, and the parish staff sat at the front of the church, followed by several singing groups, parents and guardians, congregation members, and members of the village itself. The turnout rivaled that of an actual CK distribution, and I couldn’t believe that all these people had showed up on a Tuesday morning just to welcome us. The church was filled with people, and those that couldn’t fit inside peered in the windows from outside. We sat at the front of the church as The Carpenter’s Kids and other singing groups performed, and then listened intently as the parish priest gave a touching speech. The depth of emotion in his words meant that the three of us were soon holding back tears, and the speaker himself claimed that he must stop speaking for fear that he himself would begin to weep. In an email home Dad told of our visit:

“Today, we visited a village church about an hour outside of the city. As you can imagine, it's not typical for there to be a church gathering on a Tuesday morning, but some 300 people of every age filled the church (also with walls but no roof yet) simply to welcome Sarah, Judi and me. Their amazing welcome and the wonderful words of the parish priest brought tears to our eyes: "Our American friends have come a great distance and at great expense to show their concern and care for our children. Don't you believe anyone who says unkind and untrue things about Americans. We can't go to America; none of us can afford it. But today we have seen America. Today we have tested America. And we have discovered that Americans are not only our friends, but also our brothers and sisters." Obviously, today is one that Judi, Sarah and I will never forget.”

It was, indeed, a day that I will never forget. Though visiting the village parishes is a frequent occurrence working for the program, weekend after weekend of visits had jaded my appreciation of how special they are. Being in Ndebwe with my parents, however, meant that it was like visiting one for the very first time, and I was glad that my eyes had once again been opened to appreciate my time and experiences in Tanzania. After distributing some soap that Pastor Noah had brought along for The Carpenter’s Kids and extending our sincere thanks to everyone that had come out to welcome us, the parish priest and committee members served us lunch. This was further proof of how welcoming these people really are; we had come with no purpose other than to visit their parish and yet they went out of their way to welcome us and to make us feel at home. Our hearts were full as we said our goodbyes and headed back to Dodoma, and we shared the realization that what we had just experienced was something we would cherish forever.

That evening, Pastor Noah invited us to have dinner with his family at his home. I baked a cake and we took along ice cream as a contribution to the wonderful meal which Pastor Noah’s wife, Mollen, had prepared. My parents, Liz, me, two of Pastor Noah’s daughters and his live-in grand daughter, Lisa, also joined us, and we enjoyed eating and sharing differing aspects of the U.S. and Tanzania. At one point Pastor Noah thanked my parents for allowing me (and Liz) to come to Tanzania to work with him. I found myself deeply touched by kind words for the second time that day, as he told them, “You have planted the seed, but we are bearing the fruits.” At that moment I couldn’t have been more thankful for my parents and the wonderful upbringing they have provided me with for the last 22 years. If not for them I wouldn’t be here, and their visit had continually reinforced what a special time these eight months would be in my life. After eating more than we could bear and preparing to say our goodbyes, Pastor Noah asked us to wait for one more minute. He disappeared into the back of the house and returned, asking my parents to stand. My dad was presented with a fully beaded warrior’s stick which was about 12” long and encased in a diagonal pattern of green and yellow beads. My mom was then wrapped in a two-piece traditional African outfit, embroidered all over with beautiful beadwork and sequins. Pastor Noah’s wife, Mollen, had made both of these gifts herself, and my parents and I were extremely touched by this show of generosity. We expressed our thanks and walked home, our hearts and minds overflowing by the extreme kindness we had been shown that day.

The next day started early and the three of us once again found ourselves on a bus at 6am to head for Mikumi National Park. The 6am departure time soon turned into 7, but eventually we were heading out of Dodoma and were on our way. About 5 hours later we were finally dropped off at the gates to our hotel, relieved to be out of the cramped bus. We spent the rest of the day relaxing in our rooms and preparing for yet another early morning the following day.

We set out with a driver at 6:30am for the 30 minute drive into Mikumi, and the open-aired old Land Cruiser – though extremely slow – afforded many views of wildlife before we even entered the park. I expressed to our guide that I had been to Mikumi twice before without seeing any lions, and thus he made it his goal for the day to search for them. After winding through the park and seeing all the normal assortment of animals – elephants, giraffes, water buffaloes, hippos, monkeys, zebra, warthogs – we finally heard news from a passing vehicle that lions were nearby. After a bit more searching we finally found them. Two male lions and one female lay dozing in the grass, surrounded by three vehicles full of tourists with cameras at-the-ready. One male and female finally grew tired of being so closely watched, and with a few disgruntled roars they headed off to find a more private sleeping spot. The goal of my trip had been accomplished long before lunch time, and we were lucky to have seen them. The afternoon proved to be a bit sparse in terms of animal sightings, as the heat keeps the animals hiding off in the shade. We arrived back at the hotel nearly twelve hours after leaving it that morning, and we came to the unanimous decision that a half-day’s drive would have been plenty! Nevertheless, we enjoyed our trip, and I told my parents they could check off the must-do when visiting Tanzania: the safari!

After yet another long and very cramped bus ride the next morning, we found ourselves back at the Peacock Hotel in Dar es Salaam. Our final days together were spent visiting the main shopping sights (again!) to pick up a few final souvenirs, and generally enjoying each others’ company. On our final night I took them to the rooftop bar of The Kilimanjaro Hotel, the classy place that Magi and I had discovered on a previous trip. We enjoyed a few drinks while reminiscing about the highlights of their visit, and with some reluctance we eventually returned to the hotel. Since their flight wasn’t until 11pm the following day, it was decided that I would leave on the bus back to Dodoma earlier in the day so they would know I made it home before getting on their flight. We took a taxi to the bus station and said our goodbyes, offering reassurances that I would see them less than 3 months later. As I waved out the window and the bus pulled out of sight, I was amazed that their two week visit had already come to an end. We fit an great deal of things into their time here, and I was confident that I had given them a pretty good taste of what Tanzania is like. I was so thankful they had come, and though it was hard not to want to climb in their suitcases and go home with them, I was glad for the opportunity to spend some time with them. Their visit allowed me to take a fresh look at this beautiful country and its wonderful people, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that.

-----------------------------------------

Three weeks have passed now since my parents returned home, and these few weeks have flown by. The past few weeks in the office have been spent catching up and preparing for the busy events of the coming year, most of which I will not be here to witness, a fact which Liz is not thrilled about! Maaike and Liaane have packed their bags and left Dodoma as well, but thankfully I didn’t have to say goodbye to them quite yet. I have rearranged my return flight schedule to accommodate a one week stay with them in Holland on my way home, and I am already looking forward to my visit. Many newcomers have arrived in Dodoma in the past week as well, and our compound alone has gained three new volunteers. Angela, from the UK, will be working as the principal at CAMS until the full-time one returns from a three-month visit to New Zealand, Linda is working as a teacher at CAMS for two years, and two 19-year-old girls named Leila and Charlotte from the UK are here to work as teacher’s aides for the next 10 weeks. I was excited to have a few new young girls to fill the void left by Maaike and Lianne, and they are already proving to be a lot of fun. In certain aspects it seems as though I arrived here only a few months ago, but as I am coming up on the six month mark I also realize all the wonderful things I have had the opportunity to experience thus far. I know the next ten weeks will be filled with more opportunities and new experiences, and before I know it I’ll be home, looking back on the eight months that seemed to go by so fast.

Sarah's Holiday Vacation, Part I: Zanzibar Island

2009-01-19T11:08:00.010+03:00

I’ve now been back in Dodoma for one week following a whirlwind – but very relaxing – three week vacation. Returning to the office after such a worry-free few weeks was a bit of a challenge, and overall I felt extremely unmotivated and unproductive. I have hopes that maybe the coming week will find me back in some form of “work mode” and that I’ll actually be able to accomplish a few things! First on the list of accomplishments for the week: writing this blog. The knowledge that I have so much to cover has been quite daunting, and therefore I’ve been avoiding the task for the past week. I will make every attempt to keep the intricate details of this tale to a minimum in hopes of avoiding a story of epic proportions, though I make no promises!

So, here goes….Part I: Zanzibar Island

On December 22, Liz and I boarded a 7am Scandinavia bus to make our all-time favorite trip from Dodoma to Dar es Salaam. Though the ride was hot and crowded (per usual), we made it to Dar and went straight to the ferry station to buy tickets for the trip to Zanzibar. Merely an hour or so after arriving in the busy city and forking over a little extra money for First Class tickets, we found ourselves relaxing in reclining chairs in the air-conditioned interior of the ferry, watching The Fugitive on screens above our heads. Obviously, we quickly decided that First Class was worth the extra money! After nearly three hours of cruising past sailboats, deserted islands, and sandbars surrounded by aqua-blue water, we came upon the historic port of Zanzibar Island: Stone Town. We took in what we could of the decrepit yet beautiful town in the fading light of the evening, and we went to bed that night exhausted but excited for the exploring we had ahead of us the following day.

After a nice breakfast on the rooftop of our hotel, Liz and I set out to take in Stone Town. I, of course, constantly had my camera in hand, and Liz quickly revised her saying that I usually have her stop every 5 steps for a photo op to every 3 steps! The town is essentially a photographer’s paradise, as unique architecture, beautiful carved wooden doors, and the amazing location on the coast make for great photos. The town is predominantly Muslim, and much of the architecture echoes this statistic, though hints of Creole, Italian, and Greek architecture show up periodically as well. Mosque minarets can be seen rising from the skyline all over town, their monosyllabic calls to prayer permeating the air throughout the day. Shoes of all colors and sizes scatter the steps as people everywhere abandon their tasks and enter the mosques to pray, a duty they will complete four other times throughout the day. Oblivious to this devout practice are the tourists from all over the world who crowd the streets, their only concern being what store they will go to next. Liz and I were quite amazed to see the number of Wazungu we encountered in Stone Town, and I have never before heard so many different languages spoken in one place. Although we hadn’t realized Zanzibar was such a tourist destination, we quickly grew acclimated to the oddity of blending in and we too meandered from shop to shop, overwhelmed by all there was to see and do. After shopping to our hearts’ delight – and amazed by the fact that we’d found several stores that accepted credit cards – we set out with map in hand in search of the Anglican Cathedral.

The Anglican Cathedral was built in 1877 over a former slave market site, and the altar of the church marks the location of a tree where slaves were beaten to determine their strength. The Cathedral also contains several references to Dr. David Livingstone, a Scottish missionary and explorer whom strongly advocated for the end of the slave trade on Zanzibar and in Eastern Africa. A crucifix made from the tree in Zambia that marks Dr. Livingstone’s burial site stands in the church. The Cathedral’s adjoining hostel, St. Monica’s, was built over several holding cells where up to 70 slaves were kept before being auctioned, and Liz and I were able to go into these dark and cramped spaces. Though a monument consisting of stone statues of bound slaves in a pit commemorates the slaves, the entirety of the large building is in itself a monument to the slave trade and those who worked to bring it to an end. It was interesting to hear about the history of the place and all that happened there.

Later that afternoon, Maaike, Lianne, Leane, Josiah, Jo, and Gwendlyn all arrived in Stone Town after their safari in Mikumi. The eight of us went to dinner together at a great restaurant called Livingstone’s with candlelit tables right in the sand, after which we walked to explore a typical Zanzibarian dinner locale. The entirety of a street was filled on both sides with tables covered in fresh seafood. Squid, fish, shrimp, octopus, and a variety of kebabs lay in piles on checkered tablecloths. The men behind each table were eager to offer you food as you passed, which they would then place on their grill and cook for you, complete with a side of chips (fries) or a variety of breads. Thankfully, we were all able to pass on the “delicacies” since we had just come from dinner, but it really was a remarkable sight! Though Leane said she has tested the fare before, I think I’d be a bit skeptical to try seafood that had been sitting out in the open air and sticky heat of the island!

The following day, Leane and her group continued on to the beach on the East side of the island, while Liz, Maaike, Liaane, and I stayed in Stone Town. The four of us decided to take a trip out to Changuu Island, also known as Prison Island. The island was originally used by Arab slave merchants to detain slaves, but it was later purchased by the British, who built what was meant to be a prison in 1890. Though the building was never used as a prison, it was used as a quarantine station for visitors entering Eastern Africa. The beautiful island also houses a community of giant tortoises, the first of which were presented as a gift to Zanzibar by Seychelles in the late 1800s. Excited by the sights in store, the four of us boarded a small dhow for the short trip to the island, the water surrounding us growing clearer and bluer the closer we got. After arriving and carefully making our way from the boat to the beach – Liz was not so lucky and ended up falling into the water, which she then had to wring out of her clothes once reaching dry land – we first explored the prison, which has apparently been restored to its original condition. The sunny yellow building doesn’t appear to be a prison aside from a few bars here and there, and the cerulean blue accents and terra cotta tiles on the roof certainly make it the prettiest prison I’ve ever seen! When I had taken my fill of photos, we crossed the small island to visit the tortoise sanctuary, not quite sure what to expect. After paying our entrance fee and being given a handful of leafy greens, we entered a wooded area which had paths winding through. The tortoises, which were gargantuan in size, meandered around and across the paths, approaching anyone they thought might give them food. Some of the larger ones stood several feet of the ground, and we all came to the conclusion that they were a bit scary! After making our way through the sanctuary and exhausting our supply of tortoise food, we made our way back to the beach to relax before heading back to Stone Town.

The rest of the afternoon was spent showing Maaike and Lianne all the great shopping locales that Liz and I had found the previous day, and later the four of us enjoyed a celebratory Christmas Eve dinner on the sand. We shared the feeling that it really didn’t feel like Christmas for us this year, and we compared stories of how our families would be spending the holidays back home. Though not quite the Christmas Eve any of us were accustomed to, we ate and drank and had a good time, sharing in the company of new friends and new experiences.

On Christmas morning we found ourselves back at the Anglican Cathedral where we attended an English service in the chapel. The chapel was crowded, the sermon a bit rocky, and the carols sung off tune with no accompanying instruments, but it was nevertheless nice to retain one of my holiday traditions by attending a service. After returning to the hotel and climbing into our taxi, we departed Stone Town and headed for Bwejuu Beach on the south eastern part of the island. On the way we stopped at Jozani Forest, home to the rare Red Colobus monkeys. Our guide took us into the forest where we were immediately aware of monkeys in the trees above us, and more appeared everywhere we looked. Aside from a close call with a baboon in Dodoma a few months ago, I had never before been this close to monkeys, and they were often perched less than a foot away. It was amazing to watch their behavior and mannerisms and see how closely their actions resembled humans. We watched as two monkeys carried on their typical grooming and also as a mother sat cuddling her tiny baby, who looked down at us inquisitively with his large, dark eyes. Though we were reluctant to leave the monkeys behind, I decided that there could be worse ways to spend Christmas day than visiting a forest full of monkeys, and we hadn’t even reached the beach yet!

After the long and hot journey, we finally arrived at Twisted Palm Bungalows, our beachfront home for the next four days. We were greeted by Laura, an Italian woman who manages the hotel with her husband. She and several porters helped us pull our luggage up a steep incline of rocky stone steps and led us to our bright green bungalow on top of a hill. The bungalow was a stand-alone structure complete with a front porch and straw thatched roof which had been divided down the middle to create two rooms. Maaike and I took one while Liz and Lianne settled into the other. Before long we found ourselves on the beach, lounging on the slightly uncomfortable wooden and rope beach beds. Though we were a bit disappointed by the cloudy conditions, we were nevertheless excited to have reached our destination.

The next few days continued in much the same manner. We’d meander down to the beachfront restaurant in time to catch the tail end of breakfast before parking ourselves on the beach for the remainder of the day. Though it has rarely rained for the nearly 6 months I’ve been in Africa, the rain decided that our week at the beach was a good time to come, and thus each day was interrupted by clouds and periodic rain storms.

Tired of sitting on the cloudy beach, Maaike, Lianne, and I signed ourselves up for a “Safari Blue”. The next morning we departed from the hotel in a van, our company being a young couple working in Namibia who was also staying at our hotel. After driving nearly all the way back across the island to Stone Town, we finally arrived two hours later at our beachfront destination. A clustering of large sailboats sat docked in the water about 100 yards away, and porters were busy carrying large coolers and supplies to the boats. Groups of tourists stood on the rocky beach, and we were a bit disappointed to find that our boat wouldn’t be traveling solo. The leaders of the safari gave brief introductions – in multiple languages – before splitting us into groups and leading us out through the water to the boats.

A group of about 16 of us piled into one boat, and we set off under menacing skies with the rest of the fleet. Our destination was an island where we would go snorkeling, but on the way we also did a bit of dolphin watching. When all the boats reached the island, we dropped anchor and headed to the shore, where we quickly went to collect our snorkeling equipment. We spent the next hour or so paddling through the water, amazed at all was living under the shallow water. Schools of thousands of tiny iridescent fish swam right around us, as others weaved their way conspicuously through the abundance of coral on the ocean floor. After sustaining a bit of sunburn and seeing all there was to see, we headed back to shore where our group leaders cracked open fresh coconuts for us to enjoy. As the clouds continued their descent, we were shuffled back to the boats to outrun the impending storm.

We soon reached our destination on a nearby island and once again made the long walk from the boats to the shore where rows of long picnic tables were set up. Each boat had their own row of tables, and the guides distributed beer and soft drinks before lining everyone up for lunch. Each person was given two plates, and as we moved down the line an assortment of fresh-cooked seafood, rice, and bread was heaped onto our plates. Though we didn’t think we could eat another bite after the huge meal, the guides then brought out a variety of tropical fruit for us to sample. Mango, papaya, pineapple, starfruit, breadfruit, and many others were passed down the table, followed by coffee and liqueur. We sat chatting for a while with our new Namibian friends, and soon discovered that their vacation was due to some unfortunate circumstances. A mere three months earlier their 18 month-old son died when he got tangled in a fence and was strangled. His nanny had left him and gone inside, and the tragedy occurred in her absence. The couple’s friends had all pitched in to send them on their trip. Maaike, Lianne, and I were all shocked to hear of their story, especially since it was such a recent occurrence, and we offered our sincere sympathies to them both. I can’t imagine having such a terrible thing happen, but I was glad to see they were making an attempt to enjoy themselves.

Eager to work off a bit of the bulge that had settled in our full stomachs, the three of us followed a small group to investigate a 700-year-old Baobab tree. The tree had fallen over at one point and continued to grow, creating an odd arrangement of branches and trunk. We enjoyed climbing on the tree and taking photos before heading back to the beach. By this time a game of beach volleyball was in full-swing, and Maaike and I were quick to join in. The two teams were representative of numerous countries, and despite the fact that the ball rarely made more than two passes over the net before falling to the ground, we all had a great time. Our game was interrupted as we were told it was time to once again board the boats, and we reluctantly said goodbye to our new friends. Our next destination was a mangrove lagoon, where a circle of rocks topped by mangrove trees enclosed a clear pool of water. We took the opportunity to dive out of the boats for a quick swim before the boat captain hoisted the sail and led us back to shore. We arrived back at our hotel a few hours later, exhausted but reeling from all the exciting things we had seen and done that day.

During our stay at Twisted Palms we became quite well-acquainted will the hotel staff, including the Maasai warriors who worked as guards. Maasai are tribesmen who typically live in the northern part of Tanzania. Our hotel, however, employed several Maasai warriors who had come to Zanzibar to earn money during the high season. Through surrounded by Western tourists, these guys attained the traditional garb of their tribe which consists of a shuka (a colorful piece of cloth), cow hide sandals, and often a leather belt. They also wear large beaded cuffs around their necks, arms, and legs, and carry wooden clubs and knifes. Though we at first were a bit intimidated by these guards, our concern turned to slight amusement when we noticed them wearing Western-style sunglasses and playing a game of soccer on the beach.

One night, the cook and servers at the restaurant invited us to go to a local club with them. Though we momentarily wondered whether our decision was a smart one, Maaike and I departed about 11pm with about four of the guys to make the dark walk to the club. We were relieved when we finally arrived, and were not surprised to find that we were the only Wazungu in the entire place. We stuck close by our friends’ sides, worried that we would be left behind, and watched as heated games of pool commenced before us. The outdoor venue was small and crowded, with a small bar behind a metal grate, a dance floor where people danced to the mixed tunes of African music, Bob Marley, and Western rap, and an area for the pool table. Though Maaike and I were able to avoid the dance floor, we were amused when Josiah, one of the guards at our hotel showed up. He stood out starkly in his Maasai garb, and he was always visible as his wooden club rose and fell in the crowd in beat with the music. A few hours later we left and made the walk back to our hotel, happy that we had gone “outside the box” and witnessed the night life of Zanzibar.

A couple nights later Maaike and I received another invitation to join in the fun when Josiah and another Maasai named Luca were going to a club at a nearby beach. We accepted and made the 30 minute taxi ride to a beachfront hotel, where an outdoor bar and dance floor were set up. We quickly realized, however, that Luca and Josiah had developed slight crushes on us, and after a couple hours of thwarting attempts to dance with us and finally convincing them that we needed to go home, we made the awkward drive back to Bwejuu. Though Maaike and I tried to climb in the back of the taxi together, Luca insisted that he sit next to her. I glanced back once or twice to see Maaike squeezed as close as she could get to the window, as Luca sat leaving barely any room between them. I – thankfully! – had the shier of the two, who kept a safe distance on the opposite side of the bench. After Josiah spotted a ring on my left hand and asked (seemingly shocked) if I was married, I decided to tell him I was engaged, which seemed to thwart any further advances. I could hear Maaike in the backseat regaling Luca with stories of her boyfriend back in Holland, which apparently had little effect. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we arrived back at our hotel. Maaike and I sat laughing so hard on our front porch that our stomachs were sore the next day, and we quickly revised calling the Maasai our “Rafikis” (friends) to the more appropriate term, “Rafreakies”. Needless to say, Liz and Lianne were quite amused by our story, and we made every attempt to avoid them as much as possible until leaving a few days later.

Zanzibar was quite the destination spot for Dodoma’s missionary community, and a large group of us was clustered on beaches no more than an hour apart. On one night during our stay, fourteen of us met at a central beach locale for a post-Christmas dinner. Callum and Laura, Scott and Nikki, Brandon, Leane, Josiah and many others composed our group, and it was great to meet and catch up with many of our friends that we hadn’t seen since leaving Dodoma. Upon seeing the photos of the evening, Miriam (who is living back in New Zealand and just announced her engagement!) remarked that the friends we have made here are ones we will remember forever. I think she is definitely right, and I am trying to cherish the time I have left with them. Maaike and Lianne, for instance, return to Holland in two weeks. Though I know they can’t wait to get home, it will be sad to see them go. I have hopes, however, that I will be able to make a stop in Holland on my way back to the States in April to visit them.

After a few relaxing days of lounging on the beach and sharing lots of laughs, we reluctantly packed our things and headed back to Stone Town. Liz, Maaike, Lianne, and I said our goodbyes and parted ways. While Maaike and Liaane were heading up to the northern coast for a few more days on the beach, Liz and I were heading back to Dar es Salaam to meet my parents at the airport that night. Though I was sad to be leaving the beautiful island, I couldn’t wait for my parents to arrive, and it was hard to believe that after five long months I would finally see them again.

To Be Continued…….

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas!

2008-12-13T18:32:00.009+03:00

I’m not quite sure how or when the holiday season made it’s stealthy approach, but all of a sudden it has shown up on my doorstep unannounced, bringing with it the signs that Christmas is right on it’s heels. I walk down the streets of Dodoma and see shops displaying artificial trees with colorful blinking lights and tacky, over-sized cards with images of jolly Santas and trite holiday greetings. The Christmas carols which have been playing from the bus station for months finally have relevance to the season, and the craft vendors offer cards painted with images of the nativity rather than those with giraffes and other wildlife. Despite all these signs, however, it doesn’t feel like Christmas. Perhaps it’s because it’s still a sweltering 90+ degrees, rather than the biting cold of December back home. Or perhaps it’s because I haven’t heard Mariah Carey and Nat King Cole belting out their holiday anthems on the radio for the last month and a half. Or maybe it’s simply because the holidays are a time for catching up with relatives and friends, and I know that for me, this tradition will have to wait until my return in April.

The holidays this year will be a time for celebrating with new friends and making new traditions, and I’m really looking forward to it. Last Sunday night marked the first official Christmas celebration of the season. Some of the missionaries in town and a few locals gathered for a combination going-away party for a Canadian couple and a singing of Christmas carols. After a pot-luck dinner, the group of about 50 people gathered in the hosts’ garden, surrounded by trees strung with lights and paper bag lanterns scattered along the ground. Each person held a candle to light the pages of printed music, and the flickering of candlelight gave a beautiful ambiance to the evening. Carols were sung to the accompaniment of a keyboard and verses were read as the group sat perched on chairs, benches, and on woven mats on the ground. It was a bit surreal to be sitting outside in the warmth of a Tanzanian evening singing Christmas carols, but nonetheless it brought back all the nostalgia of an American holiday. I couldn’t help but think of one of my favorite traditions of the holidays back home: the midnight service on Christmas Eve. Not only is this service my favorite of the entire year, but it also marks my favorite part of the Dailey family Christmas tradition. The songs, the lighting of the candles at the end of the service, the happy buzz in the air – all these things contribute to the “feel-good” atmosphere that the midnight service creates. It also is one of the few times that my entire family goes to church together, as our activities usually do not find Jennifer, Christina, and I home at the same time. Of course, however, we have to admire Dad from afar, as he has his priestly duties to uphold! Though I am excited to make new traditions this year, this is one I will be sorry to miss.

Our work in the office is winding down, and only four working days remain before the long-awaited holiday break. We finished off our distributions for the year at the end of November, visiting the parishes of Mayamaya and Izava. These two distributions made a great end to the year, as they were among my favorite villages I have visited thus far. The people – though friendly at every village – were very talkative and outgoing, and the children were also more vocal and engaging. I was also given a Chigogo name at Izava, which is a dialect spoken in most of the villages in addition to Kiswahili and some English. Callum and Liz had received their Chigogo names at a previous distribution (Callum’s means “Chief”, while Liz’s means “Our Beloved”), so it was decided that I needed one as well. After a brief consultation, it was decided that my name would be Mamvula, which is the word used for the season when the rain comes. I was given this name because it was indeed raining when we arrived, and since the Tanzanians see rain as a great blessing, I guess I can’t complain! I was encouraged to add this name to my ordinary introduction spiel in the church, which everyone found to be quite amusing. The end of the distributions mean that we have one less working day a week, but as December and January are slow months for us, Pastor Noah was quite content for us to work from home, which we were all happy to hear. I’m not sure I could handle an additional day per week in our hot office, not to mention that my productivity level is substantially higher at home.

After finishing up work, Liz and I will catch a bus on the 22nd to Dar es Salaam before continuing by ferry to the island of Zanzibar. A day later we will meet up with Leane and her son, Josiah, along with Maaike, Liaane, and another missionary and her daughter. From there all of us will be traveling to the opposite side of the island for our stay on the beach. It will be nice to spend Christmas Day with the people that have become my closest friends here, and being on the beautiful beaches of Zanzibar will not be difficult to get used to! After a few relaxing days on the white sands of Bwejuu beach, I will travel back to Dar es Salaam to meet my parents at the airport. Though it seemed that they might not make it here during my stay, their tickets are finally booked, and I can’t wait for them to arrive! It will be wonderful to be able to share my experiences of Africa with them, and for them to see where I have lived and worked for the past several months. I’m not quite sure what our itinerary will involve during their stay, but Dar, Dodoma, and a safari along the way are all on the list. Although it will be hard to see them go at the end of their two-week stay, I have a sneaky suspicion that my final months here will fly by – maybe faster than I’d like – and that I’ll see them again soon enough.

We’ve had a few new additions to the Dodoma family of missionaries lately, two of which moved into Liz’s old apartment a few feet away from my door. Scott and Nikki Wheeler are 25-year old New Zealanders who are here for three months to help out with various programs around Dodoma. They have seamlessly joined into our weekly routine of dinner and movie nights (and a newly established poker night for the guys), and it has been wonderful to add a few more young adults to the ranks. Scott is really hoping to make their stay a little longer, but as Nikki would say, “He has to convince his wife first!” We have discussed the possibility that he could help fill the gaps in Carpenter’s Kids after I leave, a prospect which he is quite excited by. It will be interesting to see how their plans progress. Another newcomer is Brandon, a 21-year old American taking a year off between his second and third years at Westpoint. He is volunteering at St. John’s University, and he has also joined in on our weekly festivities. His Army mentality left many people amazed (and cringing!) a few days ago after he ate a live scorpion, so he has definitely been a dynamic addition to our crew!

Last weekend a group of about 15 of us took a long-anticipated Saturday outing to climb Lion Rock, a small “mountain” on the edge of town. I have been looking forward to climbing to the top since I arrived, so I was happy that we had finally arranged a trip. We headed out fairly early with our Tanzanian guide to beat the midday heat, and after a brief walk along a flat trail we found ourselves briskly climbing up a steep path. Several rock landings along the way made great photo-ops, and the view of Dodoma below us as we climbed got better and better as we rose in elevation. After a short but steep climb, we found ourselves near the highest point after about 40 minutes. Though most of us would not attempt to climb the highest rock at the summit due to the scaling that was involved, Callum impressed us all by his seemingly effortless scamper up to the top. We all stood below and hoped he wouldn’t slip off the steep face, but to our relief he made it up and down safely. After comments by all about how easy he made it look and his insistence that it was easy, we did discover that he had done a bit of mountain climbing in the past: “Oh, I just won a few national climbing competitions back home.” After that statement, none of us felt quite so athletically challenged any longer! The group spent a long time at the top of the rock, taking photos and enjoying the amazing view. It’s always great to see things from a different viewpoint, and this view was no different. It was interesting to look across Dodoma and see how quickly the landscape changed from being clustered with buildings in the city center to the dirt roads and mud-brick houses of the outlying villages. After a precarious and slippery walk (or slide!) back down the hill, we found ourselves hot and tired at the bottom, but appreciative for the great view and good company we had enjoyed. I hope to make climbs up Lion Rock a more frequent occurrence, and I’m already looking forward to our next trip.

Though there are days that I feel can’t pass by quickly enough, I hope that the next few weeks are exactly the opposite. I’m looking forward to our holiday trips and my parents’ visit, and I want to enjoy every minute. Spending Christmas in Africa could turn out to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I plan to take advantage of it. I am finding that the saying about friends is also true of making new traditions: “Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold”. The memories I create this year will be just as precious as all the old ones I know I will miss, but I plan to treasure them all just the same.

Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year from Tanzania!

Out of Africa

2008-11-24T14:38:00.011+03:00

A couple of my friends and readers of this blog remarked that it had been a while since my last post. They essentially demanded that I write a new one, so here I am! The events of the last few weeks really hadn’t given me much to write about, as spending Tuesday – Friday in the office and visiting villages on Saturdays were all events I have written about numerous times. As things become more routine I find that I do have less stories stockpiled to pour out in the short novels I write here, so I apologize that my posts have become less frequent. I try to keep what I write meaningful and interesting, and the monotony of the everyday doesn’t quite meet that criteria. I hope that when you do stumble across and find a new post that you enjoy reading it, and that the time it may take me to write a new one is worth the wait. This past weekend gave me plenty to write about, however, so here I am again, settled in for the few hours it usually takes me to complete my perfectionist cycle of writing, proofreading, and editing these posts!

On Friday morning at 7am Magi Griffin and I settled into our front-row seats of one of Scandanavia Bus Line’s shabby coaches to make the seven-hour ride to Dar es Salaam, the former capital of Tanzania. Magi is a fellow Atlantan and a missionary working in the diocese as Special Projects Advisor to Bishop Mhogolo, and her office is just two doors down from The Carpenter’s Kids. Magi and I both studied art in school (and also discovered that we lived in the very same dorm room in Brumby Hall at UGA several decades apart!) and thus we were traveling to Dar to attend the Mukutano Arts & Crafts show. Though the bus ride was long (we traveled for 7 hours with one 10 minute stop halfway) and got progressively hotter the closer we got to Dar, the ride was much less miserable than the one I remembered from my first day in Africa. I guess after spending 24 hours on planes the eight hour trip was a bit much to handle. Nevertheless, we arrived in Dar where Magi’s usual taxi driver, Frank, picked us up and took us to the Lutheran hostel where we would be staying. After checking in and taking a brief walk-through and photo-op at the beautiful Lutheran church next door, we headed out in search of lunch. As Magi lived in Dar for two years before beginning her time in Dodoma, she knows her way around quite well, and thus we soon arrived at our destination which was a short walk from the hostel. We entered what was almost like a small food court, which had several fast-food options side-by-side. Among the choices were pizza, ice cream, a deli, and even a Western-style burger joint with fries, milkshakes, and the US’s artery-clogging creation of triple cheeseburgers. Magi and I both sat down to an assortment of salads from the deli, and already I was happy to be in Dar. Real salads are the food I miss the most from home, as they aren’t really available in Dodoma. Salads made from cabbage are common, but ones with real lettuce are rare, not to mention that you put the welfare of your stomach at risk anytime you eat fresh vegetables from a restaurant! After lunch we stopped next door in Novel Idea, one of a chain of bookstores in Dar. We spent quite a bit of time just browsing the shelves and enjoying the air conditioning, and I picked up some great little handmade cards. Though we had been in the slow-paced city of Dodoma merely eight hours before, I already felt as if we were worlds away. The high-rise filled, traffic congested, and bustling city of Dar es Salaam is a far stretch from the Africa I have come to know, and this realization became all the more apparent as the day went on.

After leaving the bookstore and finding a cab, Magi and I made our way across town to Jubilee Hall, where the Mukutano arts and crafts show was being held. We paid our 3,000 Tsh entry (about $3) and found ourselves in a huge warehouse-style building with stall after stall of artwork, jewelry, housewares, crafts, and clothing. Many of the stalls displayed crafts made by disabled people and men and women of the Masai tribe, and the proceeds from these sales went directly to their cause. Needless to say Magi and I had no trouble spending money, and I had pulled out my wallet within the first five minutes of arriving. We spent several hours meandering around the different stalls and admiring all of the amazing work on display, every so often finding things we had to have. Excluding the more expensive items of furniture and artwork, most of the small crafts can be purchased for extremely low prices, and even these can be bargained down. Most purchases leave you with the feeling that you’ve gotten a real steal, as even the beautiful and well-made items come at such a low cost. Many of the stalls had great clothes made from the bright kangas that all the African women wear, and as a lover of clothes and somewhat of a shop-a-holic, I particularly enjoyed these. Even though at home I spent exorbitant amounts of money on clothes and would have been shocked to find things I liked at these prices, I couldn’t bring myself to spend the equivalent of about $30 on these clothes. The knowledge that I could buy the fabric AND have things made in Dodoma for about $10 got the better of me, and I reluctantly left all these great things behind. My favorite part of the show was the stalls that displayed furniture and household accessories. Several places had some of the coolest raw wood furniture I’ve ever seen, all of which I wished I could take home. These items were so well made and so unique that they would have cost several hundred or thousands of dollars in the U.S. One mzungu furniture designer had on display an L-shaped couch made of raw wood, the supports of which were made to look like pier posts (rope and all) and one end of which was carved into the bow of a canoe. Though this may bring images of tacky beach house or cliché mountain home furniture into mind, it was actually a very sleek and modern piece. I complimented the designer and she told me that she’d be busy making couches for months, as she had received many orders for it. If only I had my own house and tons of money, I would have gladly taken one home as well! One jarring feature of Mukutano was the huge amount of Wazungu there! Though in Dodoma it is not uncommon to see small groups of Wazungu walking around town, there are usually only a couple together and most likely you’ve seen them before. In Dar, however, they are EVERYWHERE!! The Tanzanians actually seemed to be in the minority in this huge warehouse, and there was a great number of accents that could be picked out from the cacophony of voices. Most of the wazungu seemed to be either chic young couples with adorable children or fashionable 20-somethings, and I couldn’t imagine most of these people living in Dodoma!

At the end of the day there was a small concert, and Magi and I were relieved to sit down and listen after our long day. The concert featured several groups, the first of which was by far the best. The group played traditional African music and all wore traditional African clothes. Two little girls were the feature of the show, as they tirelessly performed intricate dances and acrobatics along with the music. Though attempts by one of the girls and by a singer from another group to pull myself and others up to the stage to join in the dancing, I was fortunately able to stay rooted in my chair! About 9pm we made our way out into the heavy humidity and got a cab to head to dinner, which Magi told me would be her treat. We arrived at a hotel near our hostel and took the elevator to the top floor, which opened to an upscale Thai restaurant overlooking the harbour, complete with waiters who pulled out your chair and placed cloth napkins in your lap. I hadn’t been anywhere this nice since leaving home nearly 4 months ago, and once again I had to remind myself that I was still in Africa! From this elegant restaurant overlooking the city lights of Dar es Salaam I could have been in any city restaurant in the United States. Magi and I enjoyed a huge three course meal, after which we managed to hobble back to our hostel in order to make the nightly 12am curfew. Entering my hot and stuffy room was made even more unbearable after enjoying the relief of air conditioning for the previous few hours, and after a cold shower I was immediately hot and sweaty again. Nevertheless I put the fan on full blast and crawled under my mosquito net for the warm night ahead.

The next day Magi and I continued our shopping quest, beginning with a hunt for a pair of sandals I had seen a few girls wearing the day before. I was told that a French woman sold them out of her home, and despite attempts to find the described location, we momentarily gave up our search. We then continued on to Slipway, a shopping district which I had heard about from friends in Dodoma. I had assumed it was another craft market with decrepid wood and sheet metal stalls like the one we visited back in August with the NY pilgrims, but boy was I wrong! The place we arrived at was essentially an outdoor mall, complete with stores, restaurants, and open courtyards, right on the coast of the Indian Ocean. It was beautiful! On one side of the building there was a stall-style market setup that is only open on Saturdays, and Magi and I slowly made our way through the sweltering aisles. Though not as stressful as my experience in August, I still found it to be somewhat overwhelming. Vendors are constantly yelling out at you to come look at their wares, which are nearly identical to the 50 previous tables that have come before them. We browsed the tables making mental notes of things we wanted before taking a break for great fruit smoothies and returning to quickly make our purchases. We spent the next several hours wandering through the shops and admiring the breathtaking view, enjoying the cool relief the stores provided from the humidity outside. I accosted a couple more women who were wearing the shoes I was searching for, one of whom was wearing some sold by the French woman, who by that time in the day would have been closed. The other girl told me she had a shoemaker make hers for her in Tinga Tinga alley, and this is where Magi and I headed next. Tinga Tinga Alley was a street lined on both sides with the small wood and metal shops, many of which sold artwork. One of these stores was where the shoemaker, Clement, worked, and this was our first stop. One sole pair of the infamous shoes laid on a shelf, and amazingly they fit. Unfortunately, however, one strap was too short, and Clement was not at the shop. We had Musa, a tailor at the shop, to call him for us, and he said he would be there in 30 minutes to fix them for me. Magi and I happily made our way through the other shops to pass the time – managing not to buy a thing! – before returning to meet Clement. Clement took the necessary measurements to fix the shoes for me, and sat down to start his work. Lukily he spoke English, and we sat and chatted with him for the next 45 minutes or so, at which time my shoes were finally done! After paying the bargain price of 25,000 Tsh (about $25) for shoes that would have cost over $100 in the US, and after taking measurements for a custom pair for Magi, we said goodbye to Clement and Musa. I promised him I would be back in January to order a few more pairs, and I plan to stock up before coming home!

A short stop at the hostel and a walk through town in search of a restaurant Magi had been told about found us in an empty vegetarian Indian restaurant. We perused the menus having no idea what most of the words meant, and finally took the advice of the owner on what to order. The food we were presented with was of the likes that Magi and I had never seen, and we dug in with interest and curiosity. Once again we were stuffed at the end of the meal, and complimented the owner on all the wonderful food we had been served. Magi did what she could to investigate what spices had been used in what we ordered, and remarked that she was curious how they had made it. To our surprise the owner then offered to show us the kitchen! So the three of us squeezed our way into the tiny kitchen to see the chefs at work. We left the restaurant full, happy, and having felt like we’d been given the royal treatment. As it was only 8:30 we decided that as wonderful as the stifling heat of our hostel rooms sounded, we did not want to go back yet, so we decided to go for a drink. Magi had heard of a great hotel that opened within the past few years which she had not yet been to, so we walked the couple of blocks to The Kilimanjaro Hotel. Immediately upon walking up we knew we were entering a different world, as palm tree-filled pools and a red-carpeted porte cochere led up to the façade of an elegant hotel. The lobby was amazing, complete with a fiberglass back-lit check-in desk, high end boutique stores, gorgeous wood paneling and marble floors, cozy seating areas, and a spiral staircase suspended over candlelit pools. After wandering around the lobby in pure tourist fashion, we took the elevator to Level 8, the hotel’s rooftop bar. Not only did this place feel like it was much too nice to be in Africa, it also topped the list of one of the chicest places I’ve ever been in my life. Tuxedo-dressed Tanzanian waiters led us to a small private seating area with cream leather couches and chairs next to floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the water. The room was dimly lit by delicate paper light fixtures and candles, and Magi and I sat for hours enjoying the atmosphere. It felt strange ordering drinks that cost more than some people in Africa see in a month. Magi and I discussed how unusual it would be to bring one of the guardians of a Carpenter’s Kid or even one of the guys in our office – who are all well-educated – to a place like this. There is absolutely no connection between their world and places like The Kilimanjaro Hotel, and it’s strange to think that many of these people will never leave their villages, much less see a place like this one. I felt like I needed to pinch myself every few minutes as a reminder that I was still in Africa and that in less than 24 hours I would find myself back on the dirt roads of Dodoma.

After another sweltering night in my room at the Luther House hostel, Magi and I attended the Anglican Church on Sunday morning. Though I found it a bit hard to concentrate due to the incredible heat, I still felt more at home in that church than I had in any service since arriving here. The service followed the liturgy I have been accustomed to since I was a little, and it was nice to hear the traditional hymns as well. Magi and had to leave right after communion in order to grab our things and catch a cab to the bus station, but nevertheless I was glad we had attended. The return trip to Dodoma was very hot (I’m sure you’re noticing a theme here…..Dar is HOT AND HUMID!) and seemed a bit long, and we were both glad to arrive safely back in Dodoma after the long weekend. It was nice to escape for a few days and to enjoy some of the luxuries that the simple life in Dodoma cannot provide. On my previous brief trips to Dar I had decided that I did not like the crowded, noisy atmosphere, but after seeing more of the pretty parts of the city I really enjoyed it. At the beginning of the trip I couldn’t help but think of how nice it would be to live there and to have access to all the great things Magi and I were able to do. After a while, though, I realized that this experience wouldn’t be what it should have been if I were not in Dodoma. While being able to go to Slipway or to The Kilimanjaro Hotel regularly might be nice, it would in no way be the “Africa” that I think it is meant to be. While the dirt roads, no air conditioning, and few restaurants of Dodoma leave a bit to be desired at times, it is what it is, and I’m happy for that. I feel that being here and seeing how people live enables me to somehow connect with the people that The Carpenter’s Kids serves. Living in a place like Dar would make it too easy to cast aside the hardships of these people and forget. As one Carpenter’s Kid said, “We felt like we had been forgotten by the world”, and I feel like it is my duty to remember them.

Wishing everyone a Happy Thanksgiving from Dodoma, Tanzania! I hope you enjoy spending the day with your families and giving thanks for all that you have. We truly are blessed.

People, Places, and Wide Open Spaces

2008-11-09T15:52:00.000+03:00

I have some new photos up at www.picasaweb.google.com/sarahldailey. Enjoy!

A chicken and a Goat

2008-11-03T13:31:00.008+03:00

It’s been a while since my last post, so I guess it’s time for an update in the Dodoma happenings of this certain Mzungu. Liz and I have become quite annoyed at having this yelled out to us multiple times a day, as yes, we realize we are “white ones” and are not impressed by this statement of the obvious. In moments of irritation I’ve been tempted to respond the equally observant exclamation, “African!”, but thankfully I’ve managed to restrain myself thus far. I recently found a group on Facebook (that all-encompassing social network site that eats up much of my internet money) entitled “I went against the guidebooks’ advice and actually chose to live in Dodoma”. The group page contains a “For those of you who….” list which with poignant accuracy details the uniquities which become a part of daily life here. Here are a few for your enjoyment:

For those of you who….

7. Grew a second skin of sunscreen mixed with dust
12. Watched 3 seasons of Dawson’s Creek because….well…you could.
15. Were able to moan like the upper classes about lazy night watchmen or complacent house maids who left peg marks in your clothes or baked bread as hard as a rock
20. Actually tried on multiple occasions to explain that England, USA and Australia are in fact not on the same continent, or to crack the stereotype that all wazungu are shillingi billionaires. And failed miserably.
30. Will never miss squat toilets, mosquito nets, mosquitoes for that matter, t-shirt tans, ugali, obnoxiously noising fridges, people that walk behind reversing cars, WAITING, and everything else that makes Dodoma that little bit 'special'.

One group member left a comment about being addressed as “Mzungu”, and said that she had come up with a solution. When being addressed in this way, she would exclaim, “Wapi?” (where?), and look around confusingly. I must try this next time!

The past couple of weeks have passed by fairly quickly, which is something I haven’t experienced so far, as time usually seems to drag by. (Just to update my usual tally: 3 months down, 5 ½ to go.) I had gotten myself quite stressed out over all the work I suddenly had to do in the office, and my “to-do” list seemed to grow exponentially with every passing day rather than getting smaller! One day last week I chose to abandon the office and work at home, which proved to be well worth it. I cranked out a sizable chunk of my list in about a 7 hour span, which with the distractions (and heat!) in the office would have taken me days. I still have quite a bit to do, but I feel that it has been reduced to a manageable size. Life in Africa isn’t meant to be stressful, as the phrase “Hakuna Matata” (which means “No worries” for you non-Lion King watchers) is one which is taken at full value. People don’t really get stressed here, and they just take things as they come. This is also the reason that doing anything takes about ten times longer than anyone in the US would find normal or even acceptable, which has definitely been something to get used to, as well as a test of my patience.

We had a group of 5 visitors from VA join us a couple of weeks ago to explore how they could contribute to The Carpenter’s Kids. Though their trip was short – only 5 days – we enjoyed having them here. The group was led by Buck Blanchard, Director of Missions for the Diocese of Virginia. He is also an avid supporter of the program as a part of the Friends in Colorado group, which supports a village of 200 children. The two remaining couples and he are all members of the same parish. Liz and I were particularly excited for their arrival because Buck had kindly agreed to bring an extra bag for all the things we had decided we were missing and couldn’t live without. For weeks we had been compiling lists which we then sent to our parents who gathered it all and sent it on to Buck in Virginia. When Buck arrived we felt a bit guilty at the size of the bag he had lugged over for us, and even guiltier when we found out that one couple had lost both of their bags in the journey, while ours had arrived safely. Nevertheless, we were quite excited to receive these items from home, and it was almost like Christmas morning looking through our wares! While my mom had included only things which I had asked for, Liz’s mom had thrown in a few surprises. We got a kick out of a few of them, the best being a few sets of brightly colored buttons in the shape of African animals. We are quite determined to find a use for them!

The group was initially interested in exploring healthcare in the Dodoma region, so their visit was filled with trips to various health centers in the area. Some of the staff was able to accompany them on their trip to Dodoma General Hospital, which Liz and I pass by everyday on the way to work. There are always huge groups of people waiting outside for visiting hours to begin, and families are expected to provide much care for their sick family members. The hospital does not provide food for its patients, and thus the family members have to bring in their own. We were given a tour of the hospital, and it was nothing short of shocking, though by Tanzanian standards it is probably seen to be quite nice. The hospital campus is composed of many different buildings, each of which is dedicated to a different ward of the hospital. One of the first buildings we visited was pediatrics. We entered to see a bench full of women and their children awaiting treatment by one nurse, who sat administering an IV to an infant. We made our way through the building, passing bed after bed of women lying with their sick children. One woman held a screaming child, part of whose head was bandaged but the rest of which revealed bright pink skin in some stage of healing from severe burns. A visit to the maternal ward was possibly even more disturbing. Women who had either just delivered their babies or in various stages of labor lay uncomfortably in beds no more than one foot apart from each other, some with their newborns right there beside them. A visit to the neonatal ICU ward was slightly more promising, as at least some care was shown in keeping these susceptible infants from the exposure of the rest of the hospital. The mothers sat chatting with each other on their beds in one part of the room, while their babies were kept in a separate room behind closed doors. We also visited an empty ICU with three beds – and wondered whether the fact that it was empty was a good or a bad thing – the eye unit, the dental clinic, and Radiology. The hospital’s capacity was 420 beds, and yet they had one sonogram machine and one working X-ray machine, which are the only ones available for use by several regions. The sonogram machine had been donated to the hospital in the early 1990s, meaning that by now it is extremely out-dated. We also visited the wash room, which I was worried would be nothing more than women scrubbing sheets in vats of cold, soapy water. I was pleased to find that they did have high-temperature machines to wash the linens, but the remarks of the two men operating them and the sight of the stained sheets hanging outside to dry proved that they the machines left a bit to be desired in terms of sterilization. The closest comparison I can make to what I saw at Dodoma General is to that of war movies, where metal beds with thin mattresses are lined up in close succession down the entirety of a long, narrow room, each filled with a patient afflicted by some illness or another. The visit to the hospital left me with a renewed sense of just how far ahead the western world really is, though I had to remind myself that these patients were lucky to be near the hospital, as many of the distant villages provide little or no opportunity for medical care. I am continually reminded here that the world of medicine is one which I am intrigued by, and maybe if I can make it through Chemistry (the second time around!), that I may find myself in this field one day in the future.

We have had quite a few exciting social events over the past couple of weeks, which at least gives us something to look forward to on weekends and evenings. Dinner parties with Leane, Liz, and the Holland girls (Miaaike – “Micah” – and Lianne – “Liana”) have become the norm, and each Thursday night finds us sitting out in the courtyard at Leane’s beautifully set table, candles and all! (PHOTO: me, Lianne, Miaaike, Leane, and Liz) Recently we’ve also been making our way through our various DVD collections, and just the other night we took a walk down memory lane with a Disney night, watching The Lion King and Anastasia! Liz, Miaaike, Lianne, and I also decided a few weekends ago that it was time we had a little dinner party of our own when Leane was out of town, but what began as the four of us eventually escalated into a full event with 11 guests! Liz and I volunteered for the main course and planned to make pasta. While we had done our shopping a few days before, the news that there were 11 people coming sent us back to the store for more supplies. By some reasoning we decided that three bags of pasta would be sufficient, which we quickly discovered was an enormous amount! Nonetheless, we sat down to enough pasta and sauce to feed an army, along with various other dishes which had been contributed by the other guests. We finished off with boxed cake mix with homemade vanilla icing (Magi helped us out with this), fresh fruit, and tea, and with the satisfaction that we had managed to pull off a successful and enjoyable dinner. It did take two more pasta dinners (prepared in a variety of ways) and a total of 20 people to finish the massive amount we had prepared, so we definitely learned our lesson! Leane also had a birthday party recently at the Dodoma Hotel, to which she invited about 25 people. A table was set up poolside, and she had pre-ordered 30 small pizzas for everyone. The waiters brought them out 10 at a time to be shared by everyone, but by the time we were all stuffed and people were leaving to go home, the final 6 or so appeared. Needless to say we knew what dinner would be the following Thursday! It has been so nice to spend time with the people around me on such an informal basis, and we all look forward to our dinner parties with great anticipation. These people have become my stand-in family, and it has been nice to come together and have each other to share both our joys and our trials of each day.

We have continued with our weekly distributions in the villages, which generally are all very similar. Recently, however, I visited the village of Fufu with John, John Joseph, and Willie, three of my Tanzanian co-workers. (The rest of the group stayed with the VA visitors at another village.) While being the only Mzungu among the staff and villagers is always quite the experience, this village provided additional excitement. I learned upon our arrival that due to the village’s size, the kids were actually divided between two different parishes about 30 minutes apart. We got to the first parish to drop off the supplies we would be distributing later in the day, but of course we had to stay for a while to be served chai and chipati. We then continued on the other village, which proceeded to serve us chai for the second time within the hour before we continued with the distribution. With only about 25 children the distribution went quite quickly, so we then got back into the Land Rover to return to the first parish. We arrived and climbed out of the car to enter the church, and a tiny little girl of about a year was standing right beside the car. I bent down to say hello to her and reached out my hand, and was somewhat surprised when she wrapped one of her tiny hands around my finger. I then reached out for her and she willingly came to me, so I entered the church carrying this sweet little girl. She sat with me at the front of the church for a while until she decided it was time to go find her mom, and at her wiggling I set her down to go tottering back down the aisle. Though we only spent a few minutes together, my little “rafiki” (friend), as John called her, definitely was a special part of the day. After the distribution was complete they told us they had gifts to give us, which is a normal occurrence. The gifts they presented, however, were anything but normal, as first a chicken and then a goat were handed over to us! The generosity of these people is amazing, and I can’t help but feel like they are showing us too much gratitude, as it is the supporters in the US who are providing these things for them. We are simply the deliverers! While groups have been presented with goats and chickens before, they are often left in the village for “safekeeping” by the parish priest, so I was somewhat taken aback when I opened the door to the car to climb in and found both of these animals settled in for the ride back to Dodoma! With no other choice I carefully stepped over them to sit at the front of the car, and was followed by a few village members whom we were giving a ride into town. So it was like this that I traveled the two hours back into Dodoma: John Joseph driving with John in the front, and Willie, me, the Tanzanian women, the goat, and the chicken. We eventually picked up even more people along the way, which made for quite a packed ride. To top it off, one of the Tanzanian women sitting near me got a bit car sick, which prompted a scolding from John Joseph and a stop for a quick change of clothes. Needless to say I was very happy when we finally arrived back home! John and John Joseph both happily took their new animal friends home with them, and I inquired as to whether they had been eaten yet just the other day. They are thankfully both still alive, though John has plans to fatten up his goat for Christmas dinner! I expressed to Liz that I don’t think she will ever beat my trip to Fufu, but I’d sure like to see her try!

When I was still in school – just last year, which seems so long ago! – this time of year seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. The end of October meant Fall Break, three weeks later was Thanksgiving, and two weeks more of classes and then exams meant the long-awaited Christmas holidays had arrived. I am curious to see whether this time will pass as quickly here, as I do not have these series of breaks to split up the weeks. I am anxious for Christmas, however, as Liz, Lianna, Miaaike, and I have planned a two-week getaway to Zanzibar Island off the coast of Tanzania. I will thus spend Christmas day lounging on a beach somewhere, and I simply cannot wait! I have heard that Zanzibar is a beautiful place, so I am greatly looking forward to it. Though the trip there will be anything but fun – requiring an 8-hour bus ride and a 2 ½ hour ferry – I am hoping that our time there will make it well worth the horrendous travel. Leane and her son who will be visiting and a few others from Dodoma will be there as well, so we have plans to spend Christmas together, which will help us all to forget that we’re missing Christmas at home. I’m sure it will be here before we know it, and I know that decorations have already started appearing in stores in the US! It will be strange to miss out on the Dailey family traditions this year, but I guess it’s not every year I’ll get to have an African Christmas.

The past few weeks have been much easier, and I am finding that the longer I’m here the easier it gets, which is a nice feeling. One of the Virginia visitors remarked that one of his favorite parts of his trip was seeing The Carpenter’s Kids staff all joke around and interact with each other, and he stressed how we should enjoy it while we can, because it won’t last forever. I know that I will miss these people when I’m gone, so I’m trying to appreciate every day with them. Liz and I have developed quite a unique relationship, and much of what we say to each other is either laced with sarcasm or is picking on the other in some way. It’s been quite fun to have people to joke around with, and Liz and I enjoy thinking of all the things I’ll get to taunt her with when I’m back home enjoying the luxuries of Western life while she is still here! I look for the joy in things everyday, and whether it’s joking around with my new friends, sharing candlelight dinners and movie nights, or by being shown kindness and generosity by those who have so little, they all add to my appreciation for my time in Tanzania.

A Carpenter's Kids Video

2008-10-16T19:13:00.003+03:00

One of the visitors from the NY pilgrimage group in August prepared a short video about the Carpenter's Kids. He shot nearly 20 hours of film during the trip, which he plans to make into a longer film. This short 14 minute version follows one group as they visit their link parish and distribute gifts which they brought with them. Though it isn't a distribution like the ones I attend every Saturday, it still gives a great impression as to what these events are like, singing included! My blog and pictures can't quite capture the spirit of these events, so for those of you who are interested this video is a great way to see what I've really been up to!

http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=carpenters+kids+and+st.+barts&hl=en&emb=0&aq=f#

Lights, Camera, Action!

2008-10-14T16:06:00.006+03:00

It’s a Tuesday afternoon and I’m enjoying yet another national holiday by relaxing at home. Just a couple weeks ago we had two days off for the celebration of Eid, which commemorates the end of Ramadan. Since there is such a substantial Muslim population in Tanzania it is celebrated as a national holiday, and as a result we enjoyed a few blissful days off work. Today’s holiday is in remembrance of the death of Tanzania’s first president, Julius Nyerere, and once again the office is closed. While Dodoma doesn’t provide many things to do on our days off, I have been quite content to stay at home and work my way through a few books. Last week was quite a busy one in the CK office, and thus the break has been much appreciated.

The CAMS compound has received a couple new residents in the past two weeks. With Liz having moved to the other compound I was left as the only American, but as of today I am not alone! Peter, who will be teaching at CAMS for an indefinite amount of time, arrived from Dar today. We were also joined by Brian Atkins from Stratford upon Avon in the UK who has arrived for a 7 week stay in Dodoma. Brian is the Business Advisor for the diocese and plays a large role in the finances and organization of the Carpenter’s Kids. He spends a few months out of every year in Dodoma, and he has once again moved into his small apartment in the CAMS compound. Immediately upon arriving he set to work resolving any issues we have been dealing with in the office, and he is a very aggressive worker. When he sets out to do something it gets done, usually with a speed unparalleled in Tanzania! It’s been nice having a new neighbor in the compound, though he doesn’t seem to spend much time here. He is constantly off meeting with various people in the diocese, and for a man in his 70s he sure has a lot of energy!

Much of last week in the Carpenter’s Kids office was spent with Roger and Angela Turner who arrived from the UK to film a promotional video about the Diocese of Central Tanganyika. Roger worked for BBC for many years and has generously given of his time and skills to shoot and prepare the film. Carpenter’s Kids has been given the opportunity to appear in this video, and thus last week was spent traveling around the diocese with Roger and Angela in order to record the various activities of the program.

On Thursday morning Roger, Angela, Liz, Brian, and I set out for Intuka Primary School about 30 minutes outside of Dodoma. We were there to film the Mama Lishes – the women who volunteer to make the children breakfast – serving breakfast to the 50 Carpenter’s Kids whom attend the school. We were met by a large group of school children, and the teachers had quite a hard time gathering them back into their classrooms. While we waited for the children to have their morning break when they would be served breakfast we visited some of the classrooms. The classrooms of what would be equivalent to 4th or 5th grade in the US were of a relatively manageable size, and though they were a bit crowded, all the students had a desk and chair. When we entered the classrooms of the younger children, however, I was astounded to see how crowded they were. In one small classroom there were 200 children, all sitting on the floor and using their laps as desks. While in the US we think that overcrowding and lack of teachers is a problem, it was nothing compared to the conditions in which these children learn. After visiting the classrooms we went and watched the Mama Lishes making the porridge in a huge cauldron, and I must admit it didn’t look very appetizing! When the children finally appeared for their break they neatly lined up – girls on one side, boys on the other – and took turns taking a small plastic mug in to get their porridge. They then sat on the ground to eat it, but it was quite some time before it cooled off enough to eat. The pot of porridge was still half full after all the children had been served, and many went back for more. We were told that they received 20 minutes for their break, but they definitely were given longer than that on the day we were there. We couldn’t help but wonder whether they were usually given the opportunity to get the second cup they are meant to receive, as it seemed that by the time the porridge cooled enough to eat they would be called back to their classrooms. This small meal is all these children would eat for the most of the day. We were told by the principal that many parents can only feed their children dinner in the evenings. The parents go out and work all day in order to have enough money to buy food for their families that evening. It is scary to think of how many people here earn and spend their money one day at a time, and it definitely makes you thankful for the lives of privilege we lead.

Friday and Saturday were both occupied with very, very long distributions. The two villages we visited on these days – Lufuto and Chilonwa – had been informed that filming for a video would be taking place, and thus they held nothing back in preparing for our visit. On Friday we visited Lufuto where we listened to various choir groups sing and dance, and we had been sitting there for three hours before we even began the actual distribution! Just when we thought there couldn’t possibly be any more singing, choir after choir would file up to have their turn. Though the music here is beautiful and their dancing is very entertaining, the hot church and uncomfortable chairs meant that we had all reached our limit of tolerance by the end! As always, however, it is wonderful to see how happy and excited the people are at our being there, and we are always welcomed with such warmth and hospitality. Everyone in our group was given fabric as a gift, which they presented to each of us in turn and tied around us. Saturday was no different, and once again there was no shortage of choral entertainment for our enjoyment. Throughout the day we heard from 19 different groups, each of which had prepared one or two very long choreographed songs. Being a new distribution, the people of Chilonwa had come out to the event in huge numbers. As their church building was not completed we were seated outside, shielded from the sun by a cornhusk roof. It was almost unbearably hot under the shade, but I definitely had sympathy for the hundreds of people who were left standing in the sun for the 5 + hour duration of the distribution. Once again we were all given gifts, and Roger and Angela were even given a goat, which thankfully we left in Chilonwa to be cared for by the parish priest. I don’t think there would have been any room in the car for a goat on our ride back to Dodoma! Though the two days were extremely long and exhausting, I think the footage that Roger received will make a great addition to the diocesan video. Brian remarked several times that he wished he could bottle the music and liveliness of the atmosphere at these events. He said that you can’t know what it is like unless you’ve been there, which is definitely true. While my photos can capture a small fragment of the vivacity of a particular moment, they are nothing in comparison to the celebration which ensues at these events. They truly are remarkable experiences, and I’m trying to cherish each one.

Sunday provided yet another opportunity for filming as we headed out to Pastor Noah’s parish church, Chadulu, to partake in his weekly service. His parish is in the middle of building one of the largest churches in Dodoma, though they are currently at a standstill due to lack of funds. They have poured the concrete foundation and begun pouring the second level, which is to be a balcony. There are no walls yet save for the concrete support beams which mark out the boundary of the walls. Despite its unfinished state, however, wooden benches and plastic chairs were gathered under a canvas tarp where the service would be held. As guests we were once again seated at the front of the church beside the small table which was serving as the altar. The couple hundred children attending the service were seated on the floor to the left of the altar, and Liz kept them entertained by taking their photos during the two hour service. Liz and I were recruited to follow the Swahili readers with an English reading of the first and second lessons, and it was nice to take part in the service. Though the service was in Swahili it was much closer to what I’m used to from home, and I was able to somewhat follow along from the book Pastor Noah held next to me. The service would not be complete without the drums and singing of the church’s multiple choirs, and the visitors were once again presented with small gifts. At the end of the service we filed out to shake the church leaders’ hands, and we were then directed to get in line beside them so that the congregation could shake our hands. Literally hundreds of people, children included, passed by to shake our hands, after which they would join the end of the line and shake hands with everyone else who came after. The last person out of the church had quite the job, as they then had to slowly make their way down the line, shaking hands with everyone who had been in the service! It was quite a site to see, and I can’t imagine that ever happening at home!

I have passed the 2 ½ month mark of being in Dodoma, meaning that in 6 months from today I will be back in Georgia. I still am amazed by how long it seems I have been here, and to think that I still have half a year to go is a little difficult to absorb. I am definitely being challenged every day, and my strength and determination is being put to the ultimate test. I am humbled and astounded by the people who come to Dodoma – or to any foreign country really – and dedicate years of their life to volunteering and serving other people. Just the other day I came home to the two girls from Holland sitting outside in the courtyard, one of which was in tears. She had just talked to her parents and was suffering from a bout of homesickness, coupled with what sounded like the symptoms of the same illness I had shortly after I arrived. Though Dodoma is a wonderful place and we experience wonderful things on a daily basis, it is still a struggle to get by without the people you love close by. I’ve definitely come to find that for me, home is where the heart is, and I still miss it everyday!

Thanks to the Grace Church staff for their thoughtful card. It definitely brightened my day!

The Road Not Taken

2008-09-22T08:58:00.003+03:00

The events of the past couple of weeks have passed by in a blur of days and activity. With Miriam’s last day in the office having come and gone, Liz and I have been left to our own devices. My compiled list of all the tasks I have to complete filled about three printed pages, so I have had no problem finding things to keep me busy. Callum, along with Liz’s help, has been writing a proposal for the healthcare component of the program. This document will be submitted to an organization in the United States this week, and we hope they will agree to fund a pilot of the program, to be followed later by a full implementation. Following this submission, Callum will begin working on a plan for the dioceses of Atlanta and Virginia, which Bishop Mdimi will take to the United States when he travels there in October. The work of The Carpenter’s Kids seems to be constantly evolving and expanding, and it’s been great to witness these changes.

One of the big events in the diocese this week was Synod, which is a yearly meeting of all the priests of the diocese. For the past few years, however, there hasn’t been enough money available to hold the convention, and therefore this year marked the first Synod in three years. Pastor Noah, the director of The Carpenter’s Kids, is also a parish priest at a church in Dodoma. He spent the week in Mvumi (about one hour outside Dodoma) at Synod, and we hoped at some point that he would have a chance to address the group about the program. As the schedule was very tight we were unsure whether this would be a possibility, but Noel and I nevertheless prepared a Power Point presentation with photos I had taken at villages and information about the program. On Wednesday afternoon, Pastor Noah called to tell us there was a chance we would be given a brief amount of time later that evening, and that he would like the whole staff to come to Synod to be present for this. So, after spending almost a full day in the office, Liz, Noel, Mmoti, John, Callum, Daudi, John Joseph (the CK driver), and I set out on the hour drive to Mvumi. After waiting around for about four hours for all the priests to assemble at their nightly meeting, we entered the convention hall and were seated in front of 600 people. This large group included all of the diocesan parish priests in addition to one other member from each parish, as well as the head staff of the diocese which included Bishop Mdimi. We were luckily given time to give a brief presentation, and therefore we were all required to introduce ourselves. Liz and I have become quite accustomed to giving our short intros in Swahili in the villages, but doing it in front of 600 people was intimidating to say the least! Callum read out his introduction which the guys in the office had helped him write earlier that afternoon. As always, however, the group was very appreciative – and somewhat surprised – at our use of the language, especially after Pastor Noah told them we’d only been here for a short time. After Pastor Noah’s brief summary of the program, Bishop Mdimi elaborated greatly upon the background and benefits of the program. He is one of the few bishops in Tanzania who accepts help from the Episcopal Church of the United States, and most other bishops refuse this connection due to the issues of homosexuality and the ordaining of women. Bishop Mdimi is a very knowledgeable and forward-thinking man, and it was wonderful to hear him speak so generously of both the United States and of The Carpenter’s Kids Program. After the presentation the staff finally headed home, arriving back in Dodoma about eleven p.m. We were exhausted and weary from the long day, but renewed in our pride for The Carpenter’s Kids.

I am finding one of the more challenging aspects of being here is the environment in which I work. I have come to realize from past work experience that I am definitely not an “office worker”, and I am much more suited for work “in the field”. Put me in a hospital or a retail store (both of which I have experienced) and I’m fine, but put me in an office, and I tend to get exasperated fairly quickly. The office also seems to grow infinitely warmer with each passing day, which doesn’t ease the situation in the slightest. I am finding my wonderful colleagues to be a blessing, as without them I’m not quite sure I’d be able to make it through the day! Part of the difficulty of this situation comes from the fact that I entered into this experience thinking it would give me a break between school and getting a job, and in essence what I have done is come to Africa and started a job! This is not to say that I’m not enjoying the work that I’m doing – because I most definitely am – but I will say that I look forward to our Saturdays in the villages, which are hands down my favorite part of the week. Just yesterday we visited the villages of Chiuftuka and Chibelela, both of which were quite a distance from Dodoma. It was a first-time distribution at Chifutuka, and it quickly became clear that Liz, Ainsley (a visitor from Australia), and I were the first white people these villagers had ever seen! While we are used to the attention that Wzungu receive in Dodoma and in other towns of Tanzania, I don’t think we were quite prepared for the spectacle we became in this village. The children were all very excited at our being there, and everyone – adults included – was constantly lining up to have their photos taken. It was possibly the first time they had seen a camera as well, and seeing themselves on the digital screen was a source of endless entertainment. As always we were warmly welcomed, our imperfect (though improving!) Swahili was regarded with surprise and applaud, and John was even presented with the gift of a chicken – which then rode with us inside the Land Rover for the remainder of our journey. Overall it was quite an interesting day!

The Ex-Pat community in Dodoma is quite large, and I am always somewhat surprised upon walking around town to see Wzungu whom I have never seen before. Part of this is because it seems as though the people here are constantly changing. There are always new people arriving, people leaving, and people visiting, so there is ample opportunity to meet new volunteers like myself. I have enjoyed spending time with everyone I’ve met so far, and the people in our compound are no exception. Our compound is made up of 8 apartments, two of which were empty until just this week, and the rest of which are lived in by Ex-Pats. Aside from Liz and I there is Leane, who lives two doors down from me and teaches at the CAMS school across the road. She is from New Zealand and is the mother of two college-aged boys (they will be visiting for a month or so in November, so she is very excited about that!), and she plans on being here long term, meaning 8 to 10 years. She has been a wonderful friend to both Liz and I, and it has become somewhat of a ritual to have dinner with her in the courtyard on Thursday nights. Another apartment is occupied by Catherine, who is also from New Zealand and teaches at the school. She too, has been very helpful, and always extends an offer for us to tag along when she’s heading to town. KuSum, who is from India, is another one of our neighbors. She is doing research on neonatal and maternal deaths, and she is usually very busy with her work. Her husband is currently in Vietnam on work business, and I think she is finding it hard to be away from him. She came and chatted with me the other night and began talking about how her husband keeps telling her she should leave her job here so they could be together. She said that as appealing as that option sounded, she could not just leave her work. She said, “Though you may want to, you can't run away from life. It will always haunt you to fail. You'll regret it for the rest of your life.” Her words really struck a chord with me, and I keep reminding myself of them. Even though sometimes I may find it difficult to be here, and there will be times that I’ll want to pack up and come home, I know that I would be disappointed in myself for doing so, and I’m not sure whether that is something I’d be able to forget. Another apartment is occupied by Corey, who works at the hospital in Mvumi. She only lives here on the weekends, and I think have only seen her once in the month and a half that I’ve been here! The other two apartments, which had been empty, are now occupied by two 21-year-old girls from Holland. They just arrived on Tuesday and will be here for five months. They are speech therapy students and will be working at the school for the deaf as the final part of their studies. The two of them joined Liz, Leane, and I for our weekly dinner, and they are both very sweet girls. It will be nice having a few more young people here to hang out with! Liz will be moving out of her apartment in about three weeks and into Miriam’s apartment at the lower compound. It will be strange not having her ten steps outside my door, but at least she’ll only be about a five minute walk away. I believe that Peter – a teacher from the U.S. returning for his second trip – will then move into Liz’s apartment. There’s no telling who will come and go around here, but it’s nice to be surrounded by such a wonderful group of people.

Some of my most enjoyable moments of the past week have been centered around a usually unenjoyable engagement for me – running. I ran cross country and track all through high school and have since attempted to continue this habit, but the truth is that I usually hate every minute of it. I perform this dauntless task for no other reason than without it I feel lazy, but my dedication to the sport ebbs and flows with great inconsistency. I’ve done a bit of a better job here, and for a time I was doing my running in the late afternoons. The increasing heat and my tiredness after work have provided two good excuses to talk myself out of going, however, and thus I regrettably dragged myself out of bed before work on a couple occasions last week to get it over and done with. While I had been running a loop consistent with our daily walks to the office – into town on the main road and returning home on the back roads, with maybe a few loops around the school thrown in – on one of these mornings I decided to head south of our compound and in the opposite direction of town. Less than five minutes after heading out, the paved road quickly gave way to the dusty and rock-strewn roads typical of Dodoma, and a clustering of mud brick houses lined the periphery. I continued on this path for a while towards one of the mountains of craggy rocks which seem to enclose the town, passing men, women, and children on their way to work and school. I usually receive a substantial number of odd looks – as people’s diets and lifestyles leave little need for exercise in Tanzania – and a variety of greetings to most of which I know the appropriate responses. At one point I decided it was a time to walk for a bit, and not long after I was joined by a little girl of seven or eight who had emerged from one of the houses along the path. Due to my small repertoire of Swahili and hers of English, we quickly exhausted the little information we could extract from each other, and thus were left to simply walk side by side. Monica – as I discovered was her name – took my hand, not seeming to mind that we’d met mere seconds before, and it was like this that she and I walked together, not saying a word. We came to a point and decided to turn around, and in passing back by her house she indicated that she wanted me to come with her. I was a little apprehensive about this, as I wasn’t sure whether we’d encounter her parents – who would surely wonder why their daughter had brought a strange Wzungu to their home – but nevertheless I went with her. I timidly set foot into the dirt floors and walls of her living room, and soon realized that no one else was home. I was able to gather from Monica that her parents were at work and she was left home alone, as she did not go to school. She encouraged me to sit in one of the upholstered chairs, and she disappeared behind one of the three curtained doorways of the small house. She came back with paper in hand, which she proudly handed over to me. The papers were letters from her pen pal, a girl named Zoe from Colorado, and she insisted that I read each one of them. It was clear from the dates that these letters had been written years ago, and I wondered whether this correspondence still continued or whether she had safely stowed these crumpled letters as one of her few possessions. It made me feel guilty about the child a friend and I had sponsored through World Vision in middle school. After receiving only one letter in many months we had decided that $22 per month was too much to spare from our babysitting allowances, and thus abandoned our African pen pal. After a few more minutes I indicated to Monica that I had to go to work, and while she was intently trying to communicate something to me in Swahili, I reluctantly had to say goodbye and leave her without understanding a word she said. I told her that maybe one day I would come visit her again, and I hope that a future running journey will enable me to do so. I was touched by the simplicity and the warmth we had shared in our short time together, and I couldn’t help but feel a little bounce in my step and smile on my face as I headed towards home.

After going to church this morning and then spending a few lazy hours poolside at the Dodoma Hotel, I decided yet again that I should probably go on a run. Despite the fact that it was the hottest time of the day, I knew that whenever a running urge strikes I have to snatch it up, else it disappears as quickly as it came. The extreme heat brought about the rebellion in me, however, and for once I decided to cast aside the spandex Under Armor pants that I had taken to wearing under my running shorts. It had been instilled in us that modesty is of utmost importance here, and shorts are seen to be inappropriate. It was my logic, however, that running was a different story, and if the Olympic photos on the front pages of the paper were any indication, then even Tanzanians knew that people exercise in shorts! So, I set out – barelegged and all – and headed out to search for a route which Callum had told me about. I seemed to receive no more or less unusual looks from passersby, so I convinced myself that the shorts were obviously not too terrible of a thing! I ran for a while before I found the turn-off Callum had described which apparently led to a large water hole. I began my trek down the small and very rural footpath, and was immediately in awe of the landscape around me. I imagine that my surroundings were very similar to what you would find in Arizona, though I have never been to this part of the United States. Everything had a slightly orange tint from all the dust, and the leafless foliage, unusual shaped trees, and craggy hills lent a very desert-like feel to the landscape. I continued along the path, my only company being goats and cows, who would begin trotting along at my approach, leaving a dusty wake for me to follow. At one point I climbed a small hill and saw the “water hole” below me. My vantage point afforded me a great view, and what I saw around me was a beautiful sight. Children and animals alike were seeking respite from the midday sun by swimming in the water, and a few older boys were lounging on the banks. I continued to follow the trail which swung in a wide arc around the water, and after exchanging a few greetings with the children swimming, headed back towards the road. When I was almost back into town I took the opportunity to stop and talk to a few women who had greeted me in English on my way past the first time. One of the women said she had lived in Pennsylvania while her husband was in school there, and we talked for a bit about what I was doing in Dodoma. I took this opportunity to ask (as she was a Tanzanian who spoke very good English) whether the shorts I was wearing were a bad thing. Her reply gave me much relief, as she explained that in normal life yes, shorts are bad, but that they are fine for exercising. I was grateful for her advice, as well as for the conversation, which provided a short break from my laborious running in the intense heat! I was reminded of cross country days in high school when we would gather to run in the almost unbearable heat of August in Georgia. This time, however, I was glad that stopping to walk cast only disappointment upon my own conscience, and there were no coaches there to frown at my lack of endurance. Though I arrived home exhausted and dripping with sweat, I realized that I actually had enjoyed my run. It has become clear that discovering things on foot and straying from my normal path is the best way to experience things. On both of these excursions I have been blessed – whether it be by the company of a sweet little girl or by having the beautiful landscape of Africa lain before me– and as Robert Frost wrote in his famous poem, “I took the [road] less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”

This past month and a half has presented me with many new roads down which to travel. I’ve encountered road blocks and many a pot hole, but now and then I find one which has the smooth ride of a newly paved road. I’m trying to take all these things in stride, and I never know what will be waiting for me just around the next bend. Though I know I’ll continue to encounter minor bumps during my time here, I also know that each new road brings new joys as well, and they’ll help me find my way.

Phone Number Edit

2008-09-10T08:00:00.001+03:00

I got news that the phone number I posted on here didn't work, and I think I was missing some numbers. Here is the updated one:

011 255 787 599 511

The World Wide Web

2008-09-09T21:21:00.016+03:00

Well, I am writing this blog post from the comfort of my cozy African abode, meaning that I finally have internet! It's been a long month of using the unreliable internet in the office and racing against time and money in internet cafes, and I'm so relieved to finally have it at home. It's going to be a challenge reminding myself that every MB I download is costing me money, and the convenience of flat monthly rates does not exist here. I've spent quite a bit of time on here this evening doing various things, and I'm sure I've run down my prepaid credit quite a bit. I figure it's worth it though, and it puts it in perspective to think that I probably won't come close to spending on Internet per month what I did back home on clothes! I have finally posted pictures as well, and they can be viewed at http://picasaweb.google.com/sarahldailey. I hope you enjoy viewing them as much as I enjoyed taking them. I think Liz finds it humerous (and possibly somewhat annoying) that I often make her stop on our walks around town because I see something I want to take a picture of! I guess it's nice to know that no matter what my memory may forget over time, the pictures will be there to remind me.

Liz and I spent our days off this weekend painting the office, and I think everyone is happy with the results. We tediously painted the new Swahili logo on the door and on one wall of the office, and it definitely brightens up the room! Before I came to Africa I didn't expect to be spending so much time in an office. Now that I've realized I'll be there quite a bit, we're doing all we can to make it an enjoyable environment to work in. The next improvement might come in the form of a fan, as it's started to get very hot in the afternoons. It's strange that the weather is beginning to warm up here, whereas at home the opposite will be happening in a month or so. Although I usually hate the cold of winter, I might find that I'll miss it this year!

I have officially had the first wedding proposal of my life, and let's just say that it wasn't all I'd hoped my first proposal would be! Liz and I were walking home from the office on Sunday when we were approached by a man. After introducing himself he bluntly explained that he was hoping to be married soon, and that he wanted to marry a white woman. His next sentence caught us a little off guard, as he said "Do you think that would be possible?" Liz and I quickly realized that he was wondering whether it would be possible to marry either one of us! Liz quickly explained that no, she wasn't going to be getting married anytime soon. With that, he turned to me and said, "Well maybe you will be the one I can have this conversation with." I explained that I was not looking to get married either, and we said goodbye and continued on our way. This conversation definitely provided us with some laughs, and I have remarked to Liz that we should have asked him how many cows he would have offered for us. Apparently it is common to offer livestock in exchange for a bride here, and the number and quality of animal is representative of how worthy the bride is seen to be. Miriam told us that she was once offered three cows, and I would have been curious to know how many of God's little creatures Liz and I would have fetched. Maybe next time we'll be prepared with questions of our own!

I finally got the recipe for the cake that Margaret, my housekeeper, makes. I thought I'd share it with you all! Though there's nothing African about it, it is just plain good, and worth the time to make! I haven't tried out the recipe myself yet - who needs recipes when I have a cook! - so you're on your own with this one!

MAMA MARGARET'S CINNAMON CAKE
Ingredients for cake:
- 2 cups flour
- 1 1/4 cups sugar
- 1 tsp salt
- 3 tsp baking powder
- 1/2 cup margarine
- 2 eggs

Ingredients for topping:
- 3 tbsp sugar
- 1 tbsp cinammon
- 1/2 tsp margarine

Mix cake ingredients together until smooth. Pour into a greased and floured cake pan. In a saucepan, combine the ingredients for the topping. Set on low heat and mix until small clumps are formed. Sprinkle on top of cake. Bake at 350 degrees for 30-45 minutes. Enjoy!

I hope that with my renewed connection with the rest of the world that I can be better about posting and replying to emails. It's hard to remember how we survived when the internet didn't exist, back when encyclopedias were the norm for referencing facts! It's amazing to reflect on how far the Western world has come in these past few decades, and being here makes you appreciate the convenience of our home so much more. This part of the world is still behind, and many people here don't even have access to running water, much less computers. I have to wonder when - if ever - technology and modern advances will reach the remote villages of Tanzania and other parts of the world, but there are so many more necessary things which need to come before this. Things we've never had to live without - running water, electricity - some of these people have never had. Hopefully the turtles of the world will eventually catch the hares, this time with no anomosity at the finish line.

Day by Day

2008-09-05T16:34:00.001+03:00

Written Thursday evening September 4, 2008

As of today I have officially been in Tanzania for one month, but I’m finding it a little difficult to come to terms with this fact. When I realize that I’ll only be here for a little over seven more months it seems as though this first one has gone by rather quickly; but on the other hand, it seems like one month is far too short to account for the time that has passed since I said my final goodbyes and boarded my plane in Atlanta. During my four years of college it was normal for a month to pass between visits to Gainesville to see family or friends who didn’t attend UGA, but with my hectic schedule of classes, work, and busy weekends, these months passed without much thought. Perhaps it was the fact that I always knew that I could drive home or to see friends at a moment’s notice which made these distances bearable. Being 9,000 miles across the globe puts a different perspective on things, and I am definitely finding it more difficult. The first UGA football game of the season was this past weekend, and though I never was a huge football fan by Georgia standards, I found myself wishing I could be there. You miss what you know you can’t have!

We have definitely settled into a routine now and I’m finding that the days are passing by quite quickly. Every morning Liz and I make the 15 minute walk to work, arriving in the office by about 8:30. We have been busy the past week and a half working with Miriam to learn what jobs we will take over from her when she leaves the office next week. It’s hard to believe that she has done all this work alone up to this point. There is quite a bit of work that Liz and I will be splitting, and we have both been assigned to our own areas of expertise – complete with flashy job titles. Liz is now the Program and Policy Development & Management Advisor. She will be in charge of the business side of the program. My title is the International Communications & Development Management Advisor, which pretty much means I am in charge of all forms of communication between the diocese and the parishes here, as well as with the supporting parishes in the U.S. I am also in charge of all of our graphic design, and I was happy to find that I could put my major in art to good use. I have already revamped the newsletter which we send out every month, and hope to get the August issue out within the next couple days. I also designed a Swahili version of the English logo which was designed some time ago, and I have begun implementing this into our publications. We’ve also been working on improving the condition of the office. I quickly set about rearranging the furniture, and Liz and I got rid of the ugly, ripped floor covering which was laid on top of the concrete. Though plain concrete floors don’t seem that appealing, believe me – it’s better than the alternative! I’m also planning to cover the bulletin boards with some of the great fabric which is sold here, and I am going to paint the new Swahili logo on the door and one of the walls. As Miriam says – I’m putting my mark on the office already!

Aside from the ten of us that work in the office on a daily basis, there are constantly people filing in and out, and it is usually pretty crowded. There is barely enough room for everyone to work, and Liz, Miriam, Callum, and I have been bringing our laptops to help ease this situation. About a quarter of our office space is currently occupied by mosquito nets and other supplies which are given out at the weekly distributions. We have plans to move these to make room for more workspaces. It will be much easier to get things done when we aren’t sitting on top of each other!

The many visitors which crowd the office each day are all here for various reasons. Many of these are Carpenter’s Kids and their guardians who have come to Dodoma to seek treatment for some illness. After they visit the clinic on the floor below us they come to the office to be reimbursed for their treatments. Although the healthcare division of the program is still being developed – Callum is currently working on this – we do have an Emergency Healthcare fund which these reimbursements come from. Medical treatment is very inexpensive here, but with the volume of children who come to our office for help, these costs add up quite quickly. It will be great when the Healthcare policy is up and running, and the dioceses of Atlanta and Virginia are ready to pitch in their support in this area.

We usually leave the office at about 4:30 and head home, after which I try to find things to fill up the rest of the day. I occasionally bring some work home to finish, though after already spending 8 hours in the office, this isn’t my favorite way of killing time. I’ve been trying to run most days, I’ve been reading quite a bit, and I’m quickly making my way through Liz’s DVD collection. A combination of tiredness and having nothing to do usually has me in bed by 11pm, which is much earlier than I’m used to. I’m glad to have finally settled into a day to day routine, and it’s something I’ve been waiting for since I arrived. It’s clear to me now that Liz and I will have our work cut out for us, and I know that there are many things which wouldn’t be done without us here to take over for Miriam. There are so many things which contribute to the running of The Carpenter’s Kids, much of which I am not even aware of yet. It will be interesting to see how Liz and I cope without Miriam’s guidance, but I know we’ll figure it all out eventually. The guys in the office are busy with their own tasks, but they are always willing to lend a helping hand as well.

The church situation is one that Liz and I are having a little difficulty adjusting to. Before I left I expected church to be the one thing which would be familiar about my life here, but I’m finding that this is not the case. The Anglican cathedral holds three services on Sundays, two of which are in Swahili and one which is in English. We have been attending the English service lately, but as I mentioned before it is much different than what I’m used to. Everything that I like about the Episcopalian method of worship is taken to the opposite extreme. The traditional hymns are replaced with contemporary songs displayed on a Power Point presentation, and Liz and I have started referring to this as “Happy Clappy Music”. Whereas at home I can almost recite word-for-word what part of the service my father is coming to next, the service here follows no distinct pattern. Even the Bible readings are edited to include more modern language, and the prayers I’ve had memorized since childhood have words omitted or changed. The English congregation does not have a priest, and the service is led by several missionaries. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with this style of worship - and I know that many denominations choose to worship in this way - I find it strays too far from what I consider ‘normal’ to be enjoyable. Church is meant to be a time of relaxation and reflection, but I find I spend this hour each Sunday slightly irritated and wondering when it will end. I guess being a Preacher’s Kid and attending church nearly every Sunday for my entire life has made me a true Episcopalian! Liz and I are considering attending the 7am Swahili service this week. We have been to this service once before, and though we can’t understand a word of the service, it somehow all makes sense. The service is led by actual priests who follow a set liturgy. The music during this service – though not traditional hymns - is beautiful, and when the congregation sings they sound like a trained choir. The church also has several youth choirs which sing throughout the service, and they are incredible as well. Though this service is different from anything I’ve ever experienced, the fact that it is a traditional African service makes it normal. Maybe if Liz and I can get ourselves to church by 7am we’ll become regulars at this service, though I’m sure we might be the only “Wazungu” there!

I received the sad news a couple days ago that Liz will be abandoning me in October to move about two blocks away to another CAMS compound. There are a few more missionaries coming to teach at the school, and Liz’s apartment has been promised to one of them. Liz will therefore move into Miriam’s old apartment when she returns to New Zealand. Aside from the fact that it will be strange not to have her next door, it also ruins our internet plans! We have been waiting for weeks for an internet provider in town to receive wireless routers from the U.S. Though their service is expensive to install, we were optimistic that we would have both been able to share one router, thus splitting the cost in half. They also charge a flat monthly rate, which is much better than the other providers in town. The service which most people use, a company called TTCL, is not wireless, and they do not charge a flat monthly rate. Their installation is less expensive, but they charge you by how many megabytes you download, which can add up quite quickly. It seems as though we now have no choice in the matter but to go through TTCL, and had we known this I could have had internet weeks ago! I will be calling them as soon as possible, so hopefully I won’t be without internet for too much longer. I feel extremely cut off from the rest of the world with our limited access, and I am very anxious to change that!

A lot has happened this past month, and I am grateful for all that I have seen and experienced thus far. I can only hope that the remainder of my time here continues to be as enriching, but I have no doubt that it will prove to be. I’m in a beautiful country surrounded by wonderful people, and I’m learning new things everyday. I could not ask for more.

Tanzanian TV Land

2008-08-27T14:59:00.001+03:00

I started off my last post with a bit of good news, but unfortunately I must begin this one with some bad news. About twenty minutes after I put up my last post we headed to a roundtable discussion and final lunch before leaving Dodoma with the NY group. All the pastors of the various parishes were there to see off the visitors and to share their thoughts on the distributions at the roundtable. The pastor from Iringa Mvumi was in attendance, which was the parish I visited with the terribly sick 28-year-old man. The reverend unfortunately was the bearer of bad news, as he told us that the man had died that morning. It was in fact AIDS that killed him, and it was also this terrible disease that killed his wife two years ago. It is hard to imagine what will happen to the five children he and his wife left behind, and I can only hope that their grandfather and other family members are able to care for them. Eight percent of Tanzania’s population is infected with HIV, and many people are not even aware they have it. People either do not have access to testing services or they choose ignorance over enlightenment and forego testing altogether. Of those who are aware they are infected, however, I’m sure there are many who cannot afford the medication. Miriam told me a story soon after I arrived here which still angers me to think about. One of the Tanzanians she knows was telling her what they had been taught about AIDS in school. He explained they had been told that the disease was created in an American laboratory and was introduced to Africa in an attempt to eradicate the population. It is shocking to think people would teach children this, and I am sure that many of these now adults still consider this to be true. Miriam asked her friend whether they still believed this and only got a shrug of the shoulders as a response. It’s unbelievable!

These last few days have been blissfully boring and uneventful, as we were given a few days vacation after returning from Dar es Salaam. I was greatly looking forward to sleeping in to ungodly hours, but unfortunately this is an indulgence which has been taken from me. Three weeks straight of early mornings has ingrained a habit on me which 8am classes never could, and I find myself up everyday at 8am. The fact that I do not have solid glass windows doesn’t help matters either, and the squeals of the children at the primary school across the road eventually force me out of bed with the realization that there is no hope for more sleep. Aside from short trips to Liz’s door to borrow DVDs, I have rarely left my house – much less the compound – and I have thoroughly enjoyed it. I’ve watched an entire season of a show called Psych, and though I’m not sure whether it would hold my attention at home, it has definitely provided me with hours of entertainment! I’ve now moved on to Christy, which brings back memories of home. My mom used to like watching this show when it made its one-season appearance on TV years ago, and I can remember watching it with her on Saturday nights. Liz and I are a bit concerned about the day we make it through our sparse DVD collections. Hopefully by that point we will have internet access, which we all know can cause hours to pass in the blink of an eye. Tomorrow we go back to work, and we have a new staff member starting work with us this week – another New Zealander! Callum and his wife Laura arrived last week, and while Laura will be teaching at the CAMS school, Callum will be working with us. They are friends of Miriam’s from home, and from our first meeting they seem like great people. It will be nice to have new company both in and out of the office.

Our trip to Morogoro and Mikumi with the New York group was successful, and I think everyone enjoyed the trip to the National Park. We arrived in Morogoro on Wednesday night and checked into our hotel, which I was pleasantly surprised to find was very nice. I had my own room with a huge bed and a TV, and the best shower I’ve had since arriving in Tanzania. I was feeling a little under the weather again after our long ride from Dodoma, so I skipped dinner and settled in hoping to find some Olympic coverage, as I have not yet had the opportunity to watch even one event. My search yielded no results on the 10 or so channels the hotel provided, so I was resigned to watching terrible South African soap operas before I collapsed in exhaustion around 8:30pm. Whatever it was that I had last week – the headaches, soreness, and fatigue – had returned, and this time it settled in to stay for about 5 days. Any movement or activity was exhausting and simply standing made my throbbing headaches even worse. I put on a tough face for the Mikumi National Park visit the next morning, however, and it was another great trip. Though we still didn’t see any lions, we did have a wonderfully close encounter with a herd of elephants, which had been somewhat scarce on my previous trip. Everyone enjoyed themselves and we returned happy and exhausted to the hotel.

The next morning we packed up and made our way to Dar es Salaam. We stopped on the way to the airport at a carvers market which had tons of stalls set up where merchants were selling fabric, wooden carvings, jewelry, and art. As soon as we got off the bus the merchants were yelling at us, urging us to come into their stalls. When we entered the shops we were quickly surrounded by people showing us all the wares they had to offer, claiming they would give us a good price. I have found there are hardly any set prices in Tanzania, and everything is based on who you are and what else you buying. Tourists are charged much higher prices for the same merchandise as locals are. (This also stands true for buying produce at the market in Dodoma, which is why I think I’ll be sending Margaret – the woman who cleans my house – to do my shopping! I’ll get back to Margaret later on…) It is understood that you never take the first price you are offered, and bargaining is a fact of life here. This has never been something I’ve been very good at, but I think I managed to do a pretty good job this time. Even when merchants claimed they were giving me the ‘local’ price and not the ‘Mzungu’ price, they were still extremely high, and I would make lower offers. If they didn’t accept, you have to show no further interest and walk away, when they will usually call you back and accept your offer. I made the mistake of showing interest in a canvas painting, though I was not interested in paying what they were offering. For the next 30 minutes or so I had men coming up to me claiming their shop had more and better paintings, and they would even go so far as to bring them to me and lay them out before me on the ground. I politely refused and continued on with the group, but these paintings kept catching my eye. I went to another stall and found one I loved, and proceeded to bargain with the artist and other men for about the next 30 minutes. He started out trying to charge me 100,000 Tsh for it, and though it was large (about 3’x2’), there was no way I was going to pay that! I used the fact that I was an artist as leverage, and told them I could go home and paint it myself for a very low price. I eventually got them down to 35,000 Tsh, which I still thought was a little high, but I was stressed and exhausted, not to mention it was time to leave. I am quite happy with my purchase – though I haven’t yet figured out how I’m going to hang it on my concrete walls – but I found the entire market experience to be highly stressful and not at all enjoyable. I prefer the method of shopping in which everything has a price tag, and this bartering business will take some getting used to!

I found the task of seeing the group off at the airport to be a bit challenging, as I knew they were going home to the U.S. and I was staying here. It’s hard to imagine being here for another 7 months and 18 days (but hey…who’s counting?!) when these past 3 weeks have seemed like forever. There is a quote I have found to be true which says something along the lines of: “The difficulty of a task gives it meaning. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be worth doing.” If leaving home and coming to Africa wasn’t going to be challenging, I don’t think I’d be here. I came looking for something new, and I’ve definitely found it. I know it will get easier as I find my niche, and I’m hoping being back in the office and learning our official jobs will help create that feeling. After saying our goodbyes and leaving the group at the airport (along with Miriam, who was headed with 2 of the women off for a vacation on the island of Zanzibar for a few days) the rest of the staff and I made our way to a Catholic and Episcopalian hostel to stay the night. I spent the rest of my birthday (I turned 22 that day) trying to sleep off the headache which now seemed like a permanent fixture in my head. Later on I was able to use the hostel’s internet (which was very fast and cheap…a rare combination) to respond to many emails I’d been waiting to get to. Calls from my grandparents and parents later on that night were a welcome end to the day, and it was so nice to hear voices from home. The next day Liz, John, Mmoti, Noel, Pastor Noah, Musa (our driver), and I made the 8-hour trip back to Dodoma. We were much more comfortable with the loss of 17 people from the bus, so we were even able to stretch out a bit, which made the trip much more bearable.

We arrived home to the wonderful smells of Margaret’s cooking, and though it was close to 5pm, she and her adopted daughter Maria were still hard at work. It is expected here that “Wzungu” hire someone to do cooking, cleaning, and laundry, and Liz and my help has come in the form of Margaret, a wonderfully kind and hardworking woman. Though we had originally decided she would come on Wednesdays for Liz and Thursdays for me, after one week she discovered she had too much other work to do. She told us she could come on Saturdays and do both of our houses at once, bringing along Maria to help with the extra work. Since the CK staff works on Saturdays this arrangement worked out fine for us, and we arrived home with her in the midst of her work. She and her daughter must have spent about 9 hours cooking, cleaning, and doing our laundry, all for a very small price. We were told she gets paid 3500 Tsh per day, which is an astonishingly small amount equaling about $3.00. She even does our shopping for us, which is a blessing. Although the market was exciting and new on our first visit, I found my second one to be slightly intimidating, and I feel very out of place there. I think Liz and I will be sending Margaret for a while at least, definitely until we know enough Swahili to communicate without help. After she leaves I find myself with a stack of clean clothes and a fridge full of food. This week she made me both cookies AND a cake, and I think she’s in on the scam to make me gain weight here! I plan to get the recipe for the cake to share, as I know my mom in particular would love it. I think I will be quite spoiled by Margaret, and it will be hard to return to home and doing these things all myself!

I’m going to try to stretch out and enjoy this final day of our vacation as much as I can, though I guess I may try to make one outing to the Internet Café to post this on my blog. I’ve received numerous emails and comments from people saying how much they are enjoying reading it, and that is wonderful to hear. It’s difficult to put what I see and experience here into words, and though I try, I know it doesn’t come close to describing what it’s truly like. I think telling the story is all I can do, and having someone there to read it makes it all worthwhile. Thank you for your continued interest in my journey, and I’ll try to keep my writings worth coming back for.

NOTE:
I thought I’d provide my contact info for Dodoma in case anyone needs it:

Cell phone: (255) 787 599 511
I’m not sure what it will cost you, but I can receive both texts and calls from the U.S.

Address: Sarah Dailey
Canon Andrea Mwaka School
P.O. Box 228
Dodoma, Tanzania
East Africa

It Takes a Village to Raise a Child

2008-08-20T09:34:00.007+03:00

Written Tuesday evening August 19

I guess I should start off with some good news…..I do not have Malaria! Though I had a few days where I wasn’t quite feeling 100%, I have fully recovered now and am feeling back to normal. Whatever I had made its way through the CK office, as both Elizabeth and John (one of the Tanzanians who works with us) came down with similar symptoms only a few days after me. I think everyone is better now and thankfully no one was sick for more than a couple of days.

The group of 16 visitors from the diocese of New York has now been here for almost a week, and since their arrival our days have been filled from morning to night with scheduled events. The group is representative of five parishes from the NY diocese, all of which are linked with one or more parishes here through the Carpenters Kids program. The group is made up of 14 women and 2 men, most of whom are middle-aged. Three teenagers did accompany them, however, and there are two girls who were 17 and one who is 13. I think the group has really enjoyed their time here, though they have definitely had their share of bad luck. At least half of the group has been sick at some point from either the food or water, and everyday we were missing one or two people who were too ill to leave the hotel. Despite this and other hardships (including a car breakdown which left one group stranded for over an hour, many long and uncomfortable journeys, and a packed schedule) the group has remained in amazingly high spirits. Though I know myself and the rest of the CK staff are exhausted from all the work this week as well, it has definitely been wonderful having them here. We’ve all had a great time.

Much of our week was spent visiting the parishes around Dodoma which are sponsored by the five churches represented by the group. Each morning we would meet at the hotel and go off in groups of about 8 people to visit these various villages, and each group was made up of both NY visitors and CK staff. Just this week I have been to four villages, each of which are strikingly different and yet similar all at the same time. In each village I visited – which included the villages of Chamwino, Humekwa, Iringa Mvumi, and Mvumi Muungano – our car was met outside the village by large groups of people who were singing songs to welcome us. The group would then surround the car and lead us on our final leg of the journey to the church, which often was quite a far distance. Many times we would get out and walk with them, sharing in the celebration. Upon arrival we were taken into the pastor’s home and served chai (breakfast), which usually consisted of coffee and tea, chapatti (like a flour tortilla with more grease!), some kind of fried dough (almost like a doughnut hole), and occasionally some variety of meat as well. After finishing, we were taken on a short walk around the village and shown some of the homes of the CK children. Most of these homes are made of mud bricks and are extremely small. We went into the home of a little boy named Jackson in Iringa which consisted of two tiny rooms (about 10’x10’), the roof of which was about 5’ from the ground. All of these homes have dirt floors and no furniture apart from perhaps small wooden stools. The doors are made from twigs or pieces of scrap metal, and if there are windows they are usually very small and high off the ground. It is hard to imagine living in these tiny dark spaces, and even harder to imagine that entire families occupy them. It puts it into perspective to think that in the States a home of 2.000 square feet is thought to be quite small, and yet here there are families of four and five living in about 200 square feet. How’s that for size?!

We were also shown the water sources for the villages of Iringa and Mvumi Muungano, both of which were appalling. Iringa’s water source was basically a large hole which had been dug in the ground to collect water during the rainy season, while in Muungano the men were digging holes to find water deep enough under the ground, where it was then pulled up with buckets. Both of these sources produced extremely murky and dirty water, and yet the people use it for everything – including drinking. As I’ve mentioned before, the water here must be boiled to remove impurities before it can be consumed, and yet in the villages they often do not do this, resulting in a large number of illnesses. We take for granted being able to turn on the faucet at any moment and get clean water, but here clean water only comes in bottles, which are too expensive for them to buy.

Iringa-Mvumi was perhaps the most heart-wrenching visit I have experienced thus far. Not only did we visit the home of Jackson, who had two clubbed feet, but there were also other members of the village who elicited strong emotions as well. Out of the 50 Carpenters Kids in this parish, one child stood out blatantly from the rest. He wasn’t any shorter or smaller or skinnier than the others, but he was an albino. From the moment I saw him I could see the pain he struggles with everyday, and he seemed to shrink into himself as if it people would just look past him. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for this child to live in a place where everyone around him has dark skin, serving only to accentuate his situation. I have a cousin in the U.S. with this condition, and though I can’t speak for him, I believe that there this ailment is not given much thought. I, for one, just think of him as being a little paler than the rest of us, nothing more. It was clear there was more to it for this boy. He wore a baseball cap pulled down over his face and sunglasses to shield much of him from the sun, but painful sores were still visible on his cheeks. Whereas all the other children in the group were excited and bubbly, this one little boy sat with his head bent, constantly trying to cover his face with his hands. I don’t think I have ever wished I could speak Swahili more, because at that moment all I wanted to do was to be able to tell him how handsome I thought he was, so that maybe for a moment he might sit up a little straighter and join the fun around him. I can’t help but wonder what will happen to him as he gets older, and I hope he is able to find the self-esteem he is entitled to.

We also visited the home of another member of the village whose son had been sick for quite some time. The man asked if Rev. Ellen O’Hara, one of the priests from NY, would come in and say a prayer for him. We all filed into the small house and entered the room where his son was sleeping. The boy didn’t stir as we gathered around him and Rev. O’Hara gave her blessing, but I could tell that the form underneath the covers was extremely frail and thin. All that was visible was the top of his head and the outline of his hip and leg bones protruding though the thin blankets. When we asked the man how old his son was, I expected an age of 8 or 9 based on the size of the boy I’d seen in the bed. I wasn’t quite prepared when he replied that his son was 28 years old and was the father of 5 children. At that point it became clear that there is no getting better for this man, as no 28-year-old could look that way and survive for much longer. The children’s mother had already died, and their father is most likely soon to follow. It is children like these that the Carpenters Kids program aims to help, but it was overwhelming to be confronted with it head-on. I think this family needs many many prayers.

After being shown around the villages by the priest and members of the church, we would then gather with the Carpenters Kids and the village members for the distribution of gifts to the children. Sometimes we were outside and sometimes we were inside the church itself, and today there must have been about 700 people literally sitting on top of each other to join in the festivities. After introductions are made by the church staff and committees, the visitors are asked to introduce themselves. I finally mastered my introduction in Swahili today and was able to recite it with no help from my notes!
This is what I said:
Ninaitwa Sarah. Ninawalatea salaamu toka Kanisa la Neema katika Georgia, Marekani.
Nitafanya kazi ya Watoto wa Seremala kwa miezi nane. Nimefuraha kuwepo hapa na asenteni kutukaribisha.

Which means:
My name is Sarah. I bring you greetings from Grace Church in Georgia, America. I will be working for Carpenters Kids for eight months. I am happy to be here and I thank you for welcoming us.

I think the crowd was somewhat surprised to see a Mzungu stand up and speak in Swahili! After introductions the village presented us all with gifts. Men are given the royal treatment here, and each day the man with us was dressed up like a leader of a tribe. The women were given gifts of gourds, baskets, jewelry, peanuts, and Kangas (traditional fabric which they use as clothing). Following the presentation of our gifts, it was time for the NY visitors to distribute the gifts they brought for their Carpenters Kids and the church staff. The group I was with for much of the week gave out T-shirts, pencils, candy, and socks for the kids, while adults were given dish towels, I love NY T-shirts and hats, pens, and tote bags. Each village has a number of singing groups, and throughout each day we were constantly given performances. Many of the songs had been written especially for our visit, and each song was accompanied by dancing and drumming. Some of my favorite performances were by the Carpenters Kids, and as Miriam said, those kids have more rhythm in their pinky fingers than I do in my entire body!

After closing remarks and usually more singing and dancing, we were then served lunch. Rice, beans, some kind of stew with potatoes and meat, cabbage, and soft drinks are usually served, and there is TONS of it!! While all of the visitors prepare our plates with modest servings, the people here pile pounds of food on their plates, including the children. I am always amazed to see how much these kids can eat, and then I remember that this may be their one meal of the day. It is also likely that rice is somewhat of a treat for them, as they usually are fed Ugali, which is a traditional food here which I am told is between mashed potatoes and grits. While the Carpenters Kids have been included in the meal on our last two village visits, it has been hard to watch as the hundreds of other village children stand outside. It is clear they too are in need, though it isn’t yet possible for them to be included in the program. There are hopes to expand the program so that eventually every needy child in each parish can be included, but it will take time and money for this to become a reality.

After shaking hundreds of hands and extending our thanks for the hospitality we have been shown, the group finally loads up and hits the dusty trail back to Dodoma. Each day offers new insight into what the lives of these people must be like, and I think it has been wonderful for the NY group to see what they are supporting. The people here are so generous. They may not have much, but they give whole-heartedly what they do have. The children are remarkable as well. I have yet to see a child be reprimanded for misbehaving, and that isn’t because the parents don’t discipline them. I am amazed by how patient and well-behaved they are, and they can sit quietly for hours without complaining. I think this may have to do with the pace of life, as things run much slower here. In the U.S. everyone is in a rush to do everything and is constantly stressed out, which influences the way American children behave. Here, however, things happen as they happen, and as a result the children are willing to wait.

Tomorrow offers no break from the busy schedule, as we are off to Morogoro and to Mikumi National Park. I’ve been here only two weeks, and yet I will have already been on safari twice! Maybe we’ll get to see lions this time! After spending two nights in Morogoro we head to Dar es Salaam, where we will leave the NY group at the airport. The CK staff (we are ALL going on this little journey) will stay another night in Dar, returning to Dodoma on Saturday. The office will be closed until Thursday next week, so it will be nice to have a little time to breathe!

I have had a few questions about the food and the weather, so I will try to answer those. I think I have already explained what kind of food is served here, and most of it is pretty good. I thought I might come to Africa and starve, but I am finding this is definitely NOT the case! I feel as though we are constantly being fed, and I have probably eaten my weight in rice since I arrived. Practically everything we eat is carbs, and a lot of food is fried. I have been running more in the last week here than I did in the last month at home, which I feel is absolutely necessary to ensure I don’t come home having put on a few pounds! I am finding that the one thing I miss most from home is good salads, as they aren’t served here (not to mention you have to be careful about eating raw vegetables). I’ve tried a variety of mystery meat, and today John (TZ from our office) made me try some liver we were served at chai. Let’s just say I wasn’t a fan, and I will not be eating it again! Unlike the NY clan, though, I’ve been lucky enough not to get sick from any of the food here, and I’m crossing my fingers that it stays that way.

The weather is quite nice here at the moment, though mornings and evenings can be pretty cold. (50s) It is winter now, so I’m trying to enjoy what little relief there is from the heat before it gets really hot in a month or two. It warms up a lot during the day, but without the humidity of Georgia it is much more bearable. It is extremely dry and the rainy season doesn’t start until November, at which point I’m told everything in sight turns green. I’m looking forward to seeing that!

I have also met Bishop Mdimi Mhogolo, and from what I can tell he is a very charismatic and wonderful man. He has great ideas about plans for the diocese, and he is very informed about his people and what is happening around Dodoma. One point I feel I must make about him, however, is that he is definitely not a man of few words. I have been in his company a few times now where he has been given the opportunity to speak, and his intentionally short speeches are usually quite long. He is in fact a man of many, many, many words. And when you think he’s done, he throws in a few hundred more just for good measure! I think everyone finds it quite humorous actually, and they know that when Bp. Mdimi has the floor, you better settle in your seat. You might be there a while!

I apologize for the extreme length of this post, but I feel I had a lot to write about. I’ve been hoarding all these thoughts that I intended to write out, so hopefully I got them all! I’ve just hit the two week mark of being in Dodoma as of today, but in terms of what I’ve experienced it feels like a lifetime. It will be interesting to see how time changes as I grow more accustomed to being here. I think it will get easier when I feel like I am no longer a visitor, though how long that will take I’m not sure. Only time will tell, and I guess I’ll have to wait and find out.

Hustle & Bustle

2008-08-12T09:28:00.005+03:00

Written Monday evening, August 11

It has been a busy week here in Dodoma, and it’s hard to believe I only arrived one week ago today. It seems as though it has been several weeks at the very least, perhaps because we have packed so much into every day.

We had our first day at the office last Thursday, and Miriam had us doing things to prepare for the New York pilgrimage group that will be arriving on Wednesday. On Thursday afternoon Andrew, a missionary from the UK, took us to a Nane Nane festival, which literally translates to Eight Eight, a holiday celebrating agriculture and farming. There were booths set up to promote different agricultural programs and crops, stands selling crafts and jewelry, and a section of animals taken from the national parks. It was interesting to take part in this event, especially as “Wzungu”, or white people. We often get called this walking down the street, and walking to town recently Liz and I heard the comment from a child who couldn’t have been more than a year and a half old! I guess they teach them young!

On Friday morning at 4am we boarded a bus with about sixteen other missionaries and made the four hour journey to Mikumi National Park for a day-long safari. Although our guide told us that the dry conditions and the time of day were not ideal for seeing animals we still saw many, and all we missed were the lions and tigers. I’ve never seen animals so close and in their natural habitat, and the trip provided ample opportunity to use my new camera! After leaving the park we traveled a short distance to Morogoro where we had dinner and stayed at the Lutheran Junior Seminary (private high school) and Language School. Morogoro is in the mountains and experiences a much more frequent rainy season than Dodoma. As a result the town looked completely different from what we were accustomed to, as everything was lush and green opposed to the dry dusty conditions in Dodoma. The next morning we went to another Nane Nane festival before heading back to Dodoma.

Sunday morning we went to our first service at the Cathedral which was in English and much more contemporary than I’m used to. Apparently the Kswahili service, which is at 7am on Sundays, is much more traditional, and I think we usually will attend this service. The Cathedral is quite pretty, although it looks more like a mosque than a Christian cathedral. After church we headed out on our first Carpenters Kids distribution in Mwitikira. The CK staff loaded up two Land Rovers with all the supplies we had to give to the children and made the hour and a half long trip on an unpaved and very bumpy road. I have a feeling we will be doing lots and lots of traveling during my time here!

I guess I should give a brief background of the Carpenters Kids program…..
The program was started as a partnership between the Episcopal Diocese of New York and the Diocese of Central Tanganyika. The program links a parish in the U.S. with a parish here, and AIDS orphans and underprivileged children from these parishes are selected to be “Carpenters Kids”. These children are given school supplies, a school uniform, and breakfast every morning. When a parish is selected they are asked to identify about 75 of the most vulnerable children in their parish, after which a screening committee travels to the parish to conduct interviews with the children and their guardians. The list is then reduced to about 50 children, though this may vary depending on how many children the U.S. parish chooses to support. After the children are chosen they are measured for uniforms and shoes, and these are then made back in Dodoma. Every Saturday the CK staff goes on distributions to these parishes, on which day all the uniforms and supplies are given out. Currently there are about 4,300 Carpenters Kids from about 73 parishes in the diocese, supported by various churches in New York, a few in Virginia, one in Australia, and by a group of college friends from Colorado. The Atlanta diocese also gives some support, though they are not directly linked with a parish here. It costs $50 to support one child for one year, and $2500/year seems like such a small price to pay to enable these 50 or so children to go to school.

When we arrived in the village, which has no running water or electricity, I was amazed to see the large crowd of people which awaited us. We piled out of the cars and went into a small house where Suzanne, a missionary from the church linked with this parish, had been living for the past 6 weeks. She had been teaching at the school there, and it was amazing to hear how touched she had been by the generosity of the people of Mwitikira. She arrived planning to sleep on an air mattress during her stay, but was surprised upon her arrival to find a nice bed in her room. It was not until her final week that she realized the bed must have been placed there for her use, and in fact it belonged to the priest of the church and his wife. They had given up their own bed in order to make her more comfortable, which truly shows the compassion and generosity of these people.

We were served a meal of rice, chicken, and beans before we went outside to begin the distribution. This was the second trip to the village for CK, as last year 50 children were given uniforms. This year, however, an astonishing 136 new children had been selected to be added to the program. So, in addition to giving the 50 ‘veterans’ their second uniforms, we were also able to give all these new children their uniforms, school supplies, mosquito nets, and mattresses. There must have been several hundred people gathered under the shade of the trees, both Carpenters Kids and people from the village who had come to watch. The church choir was singing and dancing, and Liz, Miriam, and I went and joined them. This was one of the most unique experiences I have had thus far. Even though I couldn’t understand what they were singing, they made every effort to include us in their celebration. Finally it was time for the distribution to begin, and each one of the CK staff was asked to introduce themselves. Miriam and Noel (one of the wonderful Tanzanians who works in the office) had written out a brief introduction in Kswahili for Liz and I, and though I made an attempt, I am uncertain whether they were able to understand a word I said!

Each child was called up by name with their guardians to receive their supplies, and then they went and changed into their new uniforms. It was amazing to see the crowd of children slowly transform from a group of children in dingy and tattered clothes to a group in their bright new uniforms, and you could see on their faces how happy they were. Several of their guardians and parents came up to the staff and shook and kissed our hands to extend their thanks, and it was touching to see the effects of this wonderful program. I feel honored to be working for an organization which does so much for people who have so little, and I am grateful for the parishes in the U.S. who have chosen to support it. I only wish they could all visit these villages, as I have now done, to see what a difference their donations are making. I am glad the group from New York will be able to experience this feeling next week, and we will be going on several more distributions during their visit here.

I think the continuous excitement and activity of this past week is getting to me, and I awoke this morning not feeling quite 100%. My stuffy sinuses, achy body, and headache made for a long day, and Liz and I joked that perhaps I have contracted Malaria. Even though the symptoms are similar, I think this was a slight overreaction, and I hope to be back to normal tomorrow! I hope also to be able to post pictures soon, but I have yet to have access to a fast enough internet connection in order to do so. Thanks so much for all your thoughts and well wishes. Your encouragement is greatly appreciated. Until next time, Tutaonana! (Goodbye!)

I Made It!

2008-08-07T11:11:00.006+03:00

After many long months of anticipation I have finally arrived i

After many long months of anticipation I have finally arrived in the place that is to be my home for the next 8 ½ months: Dodoma, Tanzania. I’ve barely been here over 24 hours but already I have found this place, along with the journey I took to get here, to be quite an adventure, and I know there are only many more to come.

I left Atlanta at 4:40pm on Sunday August 3^rd and embarked on the first leg of what would become quite a long trip. I settled into my seat and prepared for the 8 hour flight I had ahead of me, and having just made my final goodbyes, found myself in a somewhat of a depressed mood, enhanced by my feelings of anxiety for what lay ahead. It wasn’t long, however, before I met Adam, who was seated across the aisle from me. Ironically, he was also headed on a mission trip, and we began talking about our trips and what both of us would be doing. Aside from helping to ease the boredom from the long flight, Adam also helped remind me of what a great experience I was about to embark on, which greatly improved my mood and renewed my excitement about arriving in Tanzania. After all, I was headed to Africa, how could I be upset about that? After a short layover in Amsterdam I boarded my next plane, which with a stop in Kilimanjaro was about a 10 ½ hour trip to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. I arrived in the airport, waited to be approved for a Visa, gathered my bags, and walked outside to find Magi. Magi is an appointed missionary for the Episcopal Church from Griffin, Georgia, who also works in Dodoma. She had been my primary contact for organizing my trip for the past few months, and it was such a relief to see her waiting for me. We then got in a taxi and Frank, our driver, took us to a hotel not far from the airport.

I awoke excited about my first day in Tanzania and I immediately went out to explore. I was pleasantly surprised to find I was directly on the coastline of the Indian Ocean, and although I was in one of the larger cities in Tanzania, the hotel’s location made it feel somewhat secluded. After exploring the grounds I was sitting on the small porch outside my room when I saw a small animal run by, which I quickly realized was a REAL, LIVE MONKEY! I immediately grabbed my camera and followed it to where it had retreated into the trees, and there it was joined by 4 or 5 others. I hadn’t expected to see any exotic animals, except on safari, and for anyone who knows my childhood obsession for monkeys, this pretty much made my first day in Africa….and it was only 10am!

After Magi returned from picking up Elizabeth, another volunteer from the U.S. whom I will be working with, we caught a bus and began our 7 hour ride to Dodoma. This was by far the most exhausting part of the trip. The bus was similar to a run-down Greyhound bus in the States, though very cramped and without the comforts of a bathroom or AC. I was gratefully given a seat in the first row, which allowed me the benefits of leg room, a great view, and an open window. My neighbor, Naftal John Mallel, attempted to teach me a little Swahili on the way, and as a result of his quizzing I had picked up a few things by the end of the journey. The bus ride afforded me the opportunity to see what life is like for people here. All along the way there were people selling produce and other wares outside their mud brick houses which lined the desolate road, and at any point where the bus slightly slowed they were running up to try and sell whatever they could through the windows. We stopped for one 10 minute break the entire journey, so by the time we reached Dodoma we were extremely relieved to be there! We were greeted at the station by Miriam, a missionary from New Zealand. She told us the unfortunate news that she had locked the keys in the car of the Land Rover, and after calling a few people for another car, we finally arrived at what is now our new home.

Elizabeth and I both live in a compound of apartments which belong to the Canon Andrea Mawaka International School. I have a small unit which is made up of a kitchen, living area, bathroom, and bedroom, complete with furnishings. I was relieved to know I will not have to live without hot water here, the only difference being I have to flip a switch on the wall in order to turn on the heater, which takes somewhere around 30 minutes to heat. A few new changes, however, include the necessary evils of boiling and then filtering all my water, and also sleeping under a mosquito net. I am also being allowed to live here rent-free, and Carpenters Kids – the program I will be working for – is generously covering this expense for me. Miriam and Magi also live in units which are part of the school, though they are a compound about 2 blocks away.

Today was quite packed and exciting, as we spent our day traveling around town to get all the necessary things we would need. Miriam and a friend picked us up and first took us to get Tanzanian currency, which is the Tshilling (100,000 = about $100.00). We then visited the Carpenters Kids office where we will be working, bought cell phones, and bought groceries. We took our first visit to the market, which was an incredibly unique experience. It is an open-air market where vendors sell fruit, vegetables, rice, beans, and spices. We bought woven baskets to carry all our purchases, and wound our way through the stalls to collect various things. I don’t know what we would have done without Miriam and Jo there to help us, and it is obvious that though many people do speak English here, speaking Swahili is a necessary skill. After the market we went to a few Western-style grocery stores for additional items such as dish soap, milk, and sugar. Cereal does exist here, which I was worried I would miss, though it comes at a high price. A small box of Special K cost me the equivalent of about $6. Prices for things are quite different here, as everything fresh from the market was very inexpensive, which would be the more expensive items in the US, whereas everything which we had to buy at the Western grocery stores was more expensive, the cereal for example. Gas prices are perhaps the most shocking, however, and while Georgians are complaining about $3.98/gallon, just know it could be much, much worse. Gas here is the equivalent of about $8.00/gallon!

Tomorrow begins our first day of work at the Carpenters Kids office, which I will explain more about later. I am so happy and excited to be here, and so far I have met some wonderful people and had some wonderful experiences. Although I know my life here will be quite different from what I’m used to, I’m going to try and make the most of it, and I know I won’t have any regrets.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2008-07-20T04:01:00.006+03:00

My bags are packed, and I'm ready to go.

Well...not quite. I am definitely ready to go, but the task of packing a bag to travel halfway across the world for 8 1/2 months is quite a daunting one. I have an unfortunate tendency to pack everything I could possibly want or need when going on vacation, which usually means that on a weekend trip my luggage could sustain me for several weeks. This trip does not allow for such extravagance, however, and my goal is to pack everything - aside from 2 carry-ons - into one (very large) duffel bag. It will be a miracle if I actually accomplish this task, although the fact that airlines are now charging for your first checked bag is somewhat of a motivation to keep it to a minimum. We'll see how it goes.

There is still so much I need to get in order to feel prepared for my trip, although I'm not sure whether it's even possible to be prepared for what I'm about to encounter. The fact that I will be leaving everything I currently know is starting to weigh on me, and I can only hope that once I arrive that I will share the fondness for this place that so many others have expressed. As with any new chapter in life I embark on this journey with mixed feelings: excitement for the amazing experience I'm about to be a part of, sadness at missing such a large part of the lives of the people I'll leave behind, and apprehension about going to a place which I know very little about, not knowing a single person. Despite these mixed emotions, however, I have no doubt that this is something I will cherish and remember for the rest of my life, and I feel so lucky for the opportunity. My parents are going above and beyond to make this trip possible for me, and for that I am extremely grateful. At this point in my life they should be rejoicing for getting one more daughter off their payroll and out into the 'real world', but instead they are preparing for yet another year of supporting me. This trip is going to be quite expensive to say the least, and without their willingness to fund it I would not be going. It's as simple as that.

I received an email I a few days ago from one of my contacts in Dodoma which gave me a new outlook on this experience. It was an article written by the Rev. Lauren R. Stanley, an Appointed Missionary of the Episcopal Church who is serving in the Diocese of Renk, Sudan. She writes,

Living and moving and having your being in a place that is foreign to you in almost every aspect forces you to look at God’s people in new ways. It forces you to let go of all those things you are used to, all those things you have always taken for granted, and makes you reset your priorities. Sometimes, those priorities are small: clean water for bathing, for example. Sometimes, they are huge.

It forces you to decide what is important, and what is not, what you will cling to, regardless of the harm that may come your way, and what you can let go of, because in God’s greater scheme, it’s not all that important any more.

I hope that during my time in Dodoma I can make a difference, even in a small way, and help those who are less fortunate than I am. After all, isn't that why I'm traveling 9,000 miles across the world? It is, yes, although I know there is so much more to this journey. I want to help people, but I think this trip will have a profound impact on me as well. I hope to return to the U.S. in April with a renewed outlook on life, ready to take on whatever challenge comes my way. There are so many trivial matters in our day to day lives which cause us so much anxiety and stress, and I'm hoping to learn not to sweat the small stuff, because as Rev. Stanley said, "it's not all that important anymore."

So in 14 days, on August 3rd, I will be leaving Atlanta, arriving in the coastal town of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania about 24 hours later. It's strange to think that the trip I've been talking about for months now, which at one point seemed so far away, is here. And it's real. I'm actually going, and I can't wait to see what's in store.