Sarah's Holiday Vacation, Part I: Zanzibar Island

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!

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

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

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

A chicken and a Goat

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

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!

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!